Last Chance Summer - Shannon Klare Page 0,34

ring of water at the bottom of my blue jeans. Nothing says uncomfortable like wet jeans.”

“Nothing says uncomfortable like getting mud all over your legs, while trying to keep yourself dry despite a rainstorm,” he said, arching a brow. “You want to go back and change?”

“And prove you right? Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head. I swiped the rest of the dirt off and started walking again, my plan failing as more dirt kicked onto my legs.

“Besides, I don’t think the girls want me around any more than I have to be,” I said. “Not that the feeling isn’t mutual. I don’t want to be around them either, if I can help it.”

“They’re so bad you wouldn’t go back to your cabin for sweats?” Grant said after a minute. “You do realize you’ll be out here for the next however many hours?”

I contemplated the answer for a minute, caught between being honest and being a snitch. It would be easy to detail the day-to-day power struggle among Brie, Jess, and me, but I wouldn’t. Not when he had things so easy on the guys’ side.

“I’m fine in shorts,” I said.

Grant chuckled, shaking his head as we passed the illuminated windows on the side of the nurse’s building. “They’re testing the limits, huh?” he said. “And you’re struggling to get ahead.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

“Fine,” he said, continuing to walk. “We’ll spend the whole night in total silence. Sounds fun.”

“Your sarcasm isn’t near as good as mine,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Never said it was,” he said.

Silence grew between us for a minute, the sound of rain dripping off the sides of the umbrellas and water sloshing beneath our feet the only noise around.

My thoughts drifted back to the cabin. There had to be a way to get ahead. Four juvenile delinquents had nothing on me. Nothing.

It wasn’t until we’d reached the pavilion on the outer line of camp that either of us spoke. Grant, his voice almost too quiet to hear beneath the pavilion’s huge metal roof, motioned toward one of the wooden swings lining the outside of the court.

“It isn’t the driest place in the world, but I’m tired of getting rained on. We can take a break until it lightens up.”

“Good. I’m freezing,” I said.

“And I have zero sympathy for you.”

“Because you’re coldhearted.”

I followed him across the concrete, taking a seat on one of the damp hanging swings positioned at the corner of the pavilion. He dropped his umbrella on the concrete in front of us, letting the saturated vinyl leave its drenched silhouette beneath it.

“You’re the one who opted out of going back to your cabin,” he said. “I made the offer.”

“I didn’t feel like going round one million and two with my campers,” I said, scrunching my nose. “With my luck, they’d complain some more about the wet spot in the roof. Or they’d want to know why they can’t go swimming when there’s a thunderstorm outside.”

“Then get them in check.”

“Great suggestion, Captain Obvious,” I said.

He let his fingers idly drum on the swing’s backing. This close, warmth poured from him strong enough to be comforting. I followed his gaze, watching rain drench the grass outside.

“Besides, I’m doing my best,” I said. “I’m not the one who has the advantage of having been a camper. Remember? Kira said it’s the reason you’re so good at your job.”

He shifted beside me, stretching out his long legs against the concrete. “Yeah? And what else did Kira say?”

“She didn’t tell me why you were out here,” I said, mirroring the movement. “She said it wasn’t her story. Whatever kind of stupid excuse that is.”

He glanced at me, a smile playing at his lips. “She’s a good friend.”

“She’d be an even better one if she would’ve given me the four-one-one,” I said.

He let out a long breath, his hand moving to the brim of his hat. “It isn’t really the four-one-one. It’s common knowledge I was a camper. People who know me know the full story. You want it? Get to know me.”

“I didn’t ask for the full story. I just want a fraction of it,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Besides, you aren’t exactly an open book. Your mood changes like the weather.”

“But I stay generally hot,” he said.

I scowled, and he let out a sigh.

“I had a problem with authority figures who thought it was necessary to tell me what I could and couldn’t do,” he said, shrugging. “It caused issues back home.