by Ellie Hall
“If you’re sure, then I support you.”
“Good, because I need a favor. Turns out Adam’s been keeping tabs on me all these years. I need to do a deep dive on his social media so he and I are on a more even playing field.”
“Makes sense. You can use the nurse’s office. It has a computer with internet.”
We chatted some more while I prepped and cooked about how the first day with counselors had gone, the impending arrival of their upscale guests tomorrow, the plans for the big opening celebration dinner, and how Juniper was the world’s perfect baby.
Ben came out as I was plating the first omelet and sounded relieved that I wasn’t there to murder him. “You’re welcome in the office,” he said. “I’ll be in and out handling the chaos, but I don’t mind the company.”
An hour later, he settled in behind the front desk to return emails and phone calls, and I holed up in the nurse’s office to start my crash course in Adam. I’d barely finished reading the first article in my Google search when there was a loud crash in the office. A clatter of chair parts followed, mixed with some cursing that would earn Ben about a hundred camp demerits.
I smiled and stayed where I was.
He appeared a minute later in the doorway, holding the seat of his desk chair in one hand and a caster in the other. “I’m guessing you loosened all these?”
“It’s a sign that the camp gods love me that it fell apart on you while I was here.”
He glowered at me. “I have no time for this today. And you’re not going to put it back together, are you?”
“Nope.”
That was met with a growl and a short silence. Then, “Does this make us even?”
“Yep.”
He nodded. “Fair.” Then he disappeared back to the main office.
I was still grinning. Camp Oak Crest was turning out to be just as fun as I remembered.
Two hours later I emerged into the sunlight, blinking. I’d gone back years into Adam’s Instagram history. He wasn’t a prolific poster, but I’d gotten glimpses into projects he’d worked on, trips he’d taken, occasionally a good meal he’d eaten. And weirdly, it added up to a whole picture of a man. One who was passionate about his work. Who embraced life and new experiences. A man, who if we lived in the same time zone much less the same city, maybe I’d even want to date.
I’d agreed to his dumb dare because I never could back down from one, but now…I was looking forward to it?
I considered the feeling. And…
Yeah.
Yeah, I was looking forward to it.
I checked in on the mess hall kitchen and they were doing fine, so I went back to my cabin and got dressed for our first activity: canoeing.
Adam knocked a half hour later, and I was ready, a swimsuit beneath my cotton tank dress, water-friendly sandals on my feet, sunscreened and ponytailed for the adventure.
“Hey,” he said, when I opened the door. He was dressed in the white trunks I’d glimpsed from a distance and a dark blue T-shirt, Teva sandals exactly like the ones he used to wear on his feet. He’d dressed like that every day of summer camp, but there was something about it that hit me so differently now. His chest had broadened and deepened, and his cheeks had lost their baby softness. I wanted to reach up and run my fingers along his jawline, but I refrained.
“You look great,” he said, “except for…” He reached out and brushed at my nose with his thumb. “Missed some sunscreen there.” But he smoothed it across my cheek, and a shocking amount of heat followed his touch before he wiped the rest against his shirt. “Got it.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. He was going to play dirty, I could see. That was fine. He could do his worst. There were 800 miles between Atlanta and New York, and even if I didn’t have a single other good reason that his backup plan was stupid, those were 800 reasons enough.
“Ready to get out on the water?”
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
He’d brought a canoe down to the new dock, and when we reached it, I checked out the gear he’d laid in the bottom. “Fishing, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking a friendly competition. Biggest fish. Loser has to cook the winner dinner.”
“Sounds perfect. Hope you have some good catfish recipes, because I’m going to catch a giant one.”
“Big talk, Winters. Get in the boat.”
We slid it into the water like we’d been doing it all summer, the routine easy and familiar, and paddled out.
“There’s a good spot not too far from the center of the lake,” he said.
“You come here often enough to have a fishing hole?” I was in the bow, so I had to call my questions over my shoulder, but that was okay. I wasn’t quite ready to sit eyeball to eyeball with him yet.
“I lucked into this one, to be honest. I only make it out here once a month and over holidays. I’ll probably come less in the summer and be back again in the fall when it gets quiet.”
“Are you in Atlanta the rest of the time?”
He laughed. “I’m not in any one place most of the time. I have projects everywhere. St. Louis. Detroit. Further east. I’ve got six major projects under development right now, and about that many smaller ones, so I have to pick and choose where I am.”
We talked baseball—I was still a Nationals fan and he still inexplicably rooted for the Braves—for a few more minutes until we reached his spot and put our paddles down. I turned and resettled myself on the small bench seat.
He slid out the fishing poles and handed me one. “When we played Five Questions the other night, I didn’t get to ask any of mine. I figured that’s what we could do while we fish. You up for it?”
“Trapped in the middle of a lake and obligated to answer any five questions you ask.” I dug into the tackle box for a lure. “Gee, Adam, you sure know how to woo a girl.”
“I mean, I watched a Bachelor marathon to get ideas, but I’ll be honest, dates at a summer camp do kind of revolve around a theme.”
“Outdoor activities and camp games?” I guessed.
“Nailed it. But just to remind you before you jump in and try to swim back, this is a double dog dare.”
I laid the fishing pole across my lap and studied him. “I don’t actually want to get away from you.”
“That’s a relief.” Adam Reed wasn’t a shy guy. Never had been, but there was still a sincerity in his words.
“Have you thought this whole time that I hated you?”
“Maybe? Natalie’s made it pretty clear that you’d rather not occupy the same spaces as me, and I don’t blame you.”
“I don’t hate you.” I thought about it. “Well, maybe I did that first summer when I didn’t come back for camp, and I was working in a kitchen sixty hours a week during the hottest summer in Virginia history. I hated you a few times that summer.”
“I wish you would have,” he said. “Come back, I mean. That last summer wasn’t the same.”
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been the same if I had. Trust me, you had a better summer with me not around.”
“But not better food. We never had better meals than the summer you ran the kitchen.”
“I think that’s why I’m really here,” I told him, careful to keep my tone teasing. “You’re trying to reclaim the glory days of Oak Crest, and you know you need my cooking to do it. I think this kiss thing is a bonus you threw in when you realized I grew up to be hot.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned. “Busted. Except you were hot back then too. That’s not a new development.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” I studied him frankly. “Here’s the thing though. There’s not going to be some magic kiss that changes everything after three dates. When we were here as counselors, real life always stopped for summer camp. But real life doesn’t stop anymore, and you and I would never make sense outside of this place.”
He gave a low whistle. “I never thought I’d see the day that Tabitha Winters lost a double-dog dare.”
>
“I’m not. In fact,” I leaned toward him, “since I know how this will end, I’m suggesting we skip to the kiss and enjoy it. Good idea or great idea?” I wasn’t sure he’d even heard the question because his gaze was fixed on my mouth. I curved it into the slightest of smiles. An invitation. A challenge.
He leaned toward me too, and although this wasn’t my plan when we’d gotten in the canoe, I congratulated myself for having it now.
My smile slipped as we drew closer together. I’d very much like to know what he’d learned to do with that quick and generous mouth of his in the last nine years. When his face was inches from mine, my eyes fluttered closed, and I waited for the familiar feeling of his lips brushing mine, the skitter of electricity that had always come with it that I’d never felt the same way with anyone since. But right when I would have expected that first touch, he paused, and instead of his lips, I felt the softest puff of his breath, as he said, “No way.”
My eyes flew opened to find his staring right into mine. “Excuse me?”
“No. Way.”
“Are you…laughing at me?”
“I am definitely laughing at you. You said three dates, and I want all three of them. And then, Chef Tabitha, I’m going to kiss you so thoroughly that you won’t remember ever tasting anything else in your life but me.”
My stomach straight up flipped at the sexiness in that challenge. But I wasn’t about to let him see that he’d gotten to me, so I gave a thoughtful nod and straightened slowly, like I was truly considering his words. Then faster than he could blink, I had my paddle in the water and proved that I still had mad water battle skills. I scooped up an enormous spray, the bulk of it splatting right in his face and making him gasp.
I settled the paddle innocently in my lap again by the time he finished sputtering. “You’re right, Adam. I would never back down from a double dog dare.”
He blinked the water from his eyes and raised his eyebrows at me.
“Welcome back to Camp Oak Crest, Stretch. Game on.”
12
I woke up smiling Thursday morning. Adam had ended up catching a beautiful largemouth bass that outweighed the single bluegill I’d caught by a hilarious amount. We’d paddled back to shore and hiked up to his house where he’d offered to clean it for me. I’d only laughed at him, handling it myself while I made him list the contents of his fridge and pantry while I plotted dinner for us. Largemouth bass were tricky; people sometimes complained they had a muddy taste, but those people hadn’t eaten bass from a chef who knew what she was doing.
We’d ended up eating it pecan-crusted and grilled with fresh herbs he called the kitchen for. A counselor delivered them along with some wild rice, happily accepting his ten dollar tip before trotting back toward the mess hall again.
I stretched and climbed out of bed, smiling as I did my morning routine. It had been a good night, talking about some of our favorite memories from camp. When he’d walked me back to my door around nine, I’d smiled up at him. “It feels really good to go back to having happy memories of this place, not complicated ones.”
Today our date would be arts and crafts. I knew I didn’t need to be in the kitchen, but I spent most of the day helping Lisa anyway, until it was time to get ready.
At 3:00 sharp, Adam knocked on my door wearing black plaid shorts and a soft-looking gray T-shirt. My fingers itched to touch it.
I folded my hands beneath my armpits and leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear casual in my white cotton shorts and flowy tank top. “I feel like crafts are a trap,” I said. I was notoriously bad at them.
“I picked something I think neither of us can mess up.”
I straightened. “Challenge accepted.”
“We’re doing this at my house because there’s not a corner or a closet where you won’t trip over a counselor around camp right now.” He jerked his head toward the trail to his house. “Let’s go.”
When we climbed the stairs to his deck, I burst out laughing. He’d set up a folding table like the ones in the lodge for crafts, but this one was much more beat up than the new ones Ben had ordered with the renovation. On top of it sat a few bins full of string in every color imaginable. “Friendship bracelets?”
“Felt like the right move in the rebuilding phase.” He grinned at me, and I loved that his smile lines were carved a little deeper now around his mouth.
While he opened the bins, I studied the table top. It was scuffed and worn with years of old paint and glitter cemented to its surface, bumps where glue had dried, stray crayon everywhere. “This looks old enough to be one of our original camp tables.”
“It is, actually.” He sounded like he was working hard to sound casual. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he pried loose the last bin lid.
“Why hold onto it?”
“Never know when you’re going to need an extra table.”
I narrowed my eyes at the colors he selected. “Are those Nationals color or Braves colors?” The teams had the same colors.
He held red, white, and navy string, his face way too innocent. “These? They belong to the one true team.”
They were Braves colors. I snatched them from his hands and threw them off the deck.
He sighed. “Fine. Those aren’t the colors I really wanted anyway.” He picked through the bin again and came up with more navy plus yellow and white this time. I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out how he was trolling me. “The colors from your show logo,” he explained.
My heart went a tiny bit gooey. He’d paid enough attention to know the logo? I cleared my throat. “What are your college colors?” And I picked out gray, black and red when he told me. “Okay, so show me how to screw this up.”
“I’ve seen you spatchcock a turkey. You got this.”
I did not “got” this.
Twenty minutes later, I glared up at him from a hopeless snarl of knots. “Maybe this is the metaphor for our friendship.” I peered over at his. He already had a section of neatly alternating blue, yellow, and white lines. “Is this because you were secretly an engineer all these years? Is this why you can do precision knots?”
The tips of his ears reddened. “Not exactly.”
I wrapped my hand around his fingers so he couldn’t tie anymore. “Adam ‘Stretch’ Reed, tell me what you’re not telling me.”
He looked down at our hands and turned his so that our fingers tangled together. “I made my niece teach me how to do them. And then I practiced. I can help you if you want.”
I brushed my thumb along his. “I do want, Adam.”
He stilled and his eyes met mine. For a second, it fell so quiet around us that it was like every living thing in earshot had held its breath for a moment. Then his eyes slid away, and he turned on the bench, drawing one leg over it so he was straddling it. “Turn around,” he said. “I need to sit behind you to help.”
Uh…yes, please. I whirled on the bench so he could wrap himself around me for this friendship bracelet tutorial. He moved the string that had been taped on the table and resecured it on the bench in front of me.
“You do this,” he said, sliding closer. His legs bracketed mine, and he reached around me to pick up the loose strings. He placed a different color thread between each of my fingers and let a blue string hang loose. “Watch,” he said, and I kept my focus on his hands, weaving in and out of the strings around mine. I couldn’t meet his eyes or he’d see that in this particular moment, I wasn’t playing a game.
He finished a row of blue. “Got it?”
“Maybe. Hang out here while I give it a try.” I took the next string, a yellow one, and didn’t even try to copy what he had done, messing it up so he’d have to stay and tutor me longer. He offered corrections every now and then, which I would take, then promptly mess up the next time.
After the fourth knot, he rested his hands on my shoulders and gave a low laugh. “Maybe friendship bracelets were a bad call. Let’s find something else to do.”
He started t
o stand, but I reached up and kept his hands in place, and he sat back down.
“I might have sabotaged myself so you’d keep tutoring me.”
He grew still behind me. “Is that so?”
“That’s so.”
“What if I stay here as a supervisor and you try again?”
“I bet I could do a much better job if you did.”
“I’ll sit right here like one of those trainers in the corner of a boxing ring, keeping you loose so you can do your best work.” And then he settled into a gentle neck rub, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Is there a problem?” he asked when I hadn’t moved after a few seconds. His tone was knowing; he understood exactly what effect he was having on me.
“No, it’s just, I was thinking.” I made my next knot in the bracelet with no problem. I was beginning to understand better the rules of the game he’d set up. Friendly competition had always been part of our relationship, and he’d turned our kiss into a prize. Who would give it, and who would take it. Right now, he held all the power, and it was time to unseat him.
I turned my head slightly as if to see him better as I talked, a move calculated to put our mouths close together. “You’re right about the kissing.”
He was quiet for a second. “I am?”
“Yeah. We should definitely wait. Eliminate the mystery, you know? Then there’s no wondering if each moment is the moment I’ll find out what you’ve learned since college.”
He stood but only so he could swing himself around to face me on the bench now. “Glad you see it that way. So like, for instance, if I leaned over right now—” which he did, moving slowly, his eyes on my mouth— “to kiss you, you would definitely say no?”
Sneaky, sneaky, Adam. But I’d already decided I wanted this kiss on my terms, so I closed the gap until there was barely room for a breath between us. “Right,” I whispered.
Then I leaned back and went to work on my knots. “Hope you like this friendship bracelet.”