get all sympathetic, these girls wrote their own ticket here. Hot showers were never part of the deal.”
Luke looked down at the fan and swore, realizing he’d just put an entire piece of it back in upside down. If Gabi didn’t cover up that swimsuit—and soon, dammit—he’d never get anything done today.
“You don’t have any sympathy for Gabi, at least?”
“Not right now, no. Oliver and I were begging for a work crew for the summer, once we saw the never-ending project list from hell. What did Briarwood send?” He waved a hand at the window. “A bunch of prep school kids and their preppy little housemother, or whatever she’s called. How am I supposed to work with them around, getting in the way?”
Noah looked out the window again, and Luke realized the shrieking had finally died down.
“Are they out? Or are they dead?”
“They’re not dead.” Noah tipped his head. “Hey—any chance you’ve seen Gabriela in her bathing suit?”
“Yes, and stop looking.”
Noah grinned. “Why?”
“One—Piper would kill you. And two—just … don’t.”
Shit. He closed his eyes, knowing damn well that Noah heard the territorial directive he hadn’t meant to give. Heard it loud and clear.
“Gotcha.” Noah nodded slowly, his smile still in place. “Is somebody crushing on the hot housemom?”
Luke raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody twelve? No. Nobody’s crushing on anybody.”
Noah shrugged. “Hey, four weeks is a long time. You’re stuck here, she’s stuck here … you never know, right?”
“I do know. And no. Not my type. Not my lifestyle. Not happening.”
“Whatever you say.” He looked out the window again. “Little piece of advice, though—definitely don’t look at her when she gets out of the water. You might decide her type might be exactly your type.”
“Noah?”
“Fine. Not talking about a hot girl in a hot bathing suit.”
“Thank you.” Luke looked out the window, then forced his eyes back to the fan. They only stuck there for a brief second before returning to the window, though. It looked like Gabi was thinking about trying to teach the girls how to—fish? Seriously? Where had she found those old poles?
Noah tipped his chin toward the admin cottage. “How’s Oliver feeling about having them here?”
Luke dropped a screw and swore when it rolled so far under the table that he couldn’t reach it. The man who’d spent his life pouring his every minute and every penny into young men everybody else had given up on was now looking at his entire mission going down the drain. He’d finally admitted that his age was getting the better of him, and it was killing Luke every time Oliver sat down, because for as long as he’d known him, Oliver had never sat still.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered Noah. “But the only thing that’ll kill him faster than retirement will be to see this place turn into some rich girls’ summer boarding school.”
“So what are you doing about it?”
“Going through my list of incredibly wealthy contacts, trying to convince one of them to buy the place.”
“Well, obviously, yes. But say that doesn’t pan out? Given that you have no incredibly wealthy contacts?”
“I’m toying with going straight to the Briarwood board, actually.”
Noah’s eyes widened. “And saying what?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Luke shook his head. “But there has to be at least one sympathetic person on that board—one soul who would be willing to try to understand what we’d be losing if this plan goes through. And then maybe that person could somehow convince the others.”
“You don’t sound very optimistic.”
“I’m not, but I have to try. I can’t just sit around here all summer and turn this camp into something it was never supposed to be, then pack up my stuff in September and try not to let the proverbial door hit me in the ass.”
Noah returned his gaze to the beach. “You have a med kit handy for the first hook that lands in somebody’s cheek?”
Luke looked up, watching Gabi spread the girls out on shore, then try to demonstrate how to cast. He shook his head, but found himself smiling. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing, but damn, she was earnest about it. If she kept this up all day long, he suspected the girls would all go to bed willingly tonight, if only to get free of her chirpy little camp-activities list.
“What’d you do to your thumb?” Noah pointed to Luke’s hand, which he’d whacked with the hammer an hour ago. “Get busy looking at Gabi and forget where you were aiming?”
Luke