know where I’d like to stick them,” she muttered under her breath. She sat her glass down. “Herschel had triple bypass surgery a year ago, and he still has some brain fog. I’ll be right back.”
In the couple’s absence, Rick looked over the contract. It seemed to be standard, so he went ahead and signed on the line, then tried to get his mind off what he’d just committed to by sipping his tea and watching the bird taunt the dog some more. The dog’s yelp was irritating. He found himself rooting for the bird.
Suddenly, Peewee made a beeline toward the corner of the yard, giving happy little yips.
Rick’s gaze followed the dog. He blinked. Hell-pee-roo! A fairy had appeared through the wooden gate. He blinked again. Not a fairy, but a girl—maybe a tiny woman?—dressed in a fairy costume, complete with a long, full pink dress, a sparkling crown and wings.
“Stop it, Peewee.” The high female voice admonished the dog, who was springing up and down like he was attached to a pogo stick. “You’re going to get me dirty. Stop it!”
The dog paid no heed to the command.
The fairy stooped down and set her bag on the ground. It fell over, startling the dog, who yelped and jumped back a few feet. Then, with lightning speed, he darted to the bag, grabbed something and took off around the pool.
“Damn it, Peewee,” the fairy shrieked. “Give me back my wand.”
Rick walked over to the door and stepped outside, waiting until the dog came around the shallow end and headed his direction, then he moved directly into the dog’s path. “Peewee! Halt!” he bellowed.
The stunned dog dropped the stick and let out a yelp like he’d been kicked. He darted past Rick and launched himself into the arms of the fairy, who Rick could tell was most definitely a young woman now that he had a closer look. He picked up the stick lying at his feet.
“Oh, poor baby,” the fairy cooed, moving in Rick’s direction. “It’s okay. Calm down now.” As she neared, the dog shrank deeper under her arm, whimpering and trembling violently, and pushing her cleavage into a splendid presentation within the round neck of her gown. “Thanks.” She smiled with gratitude as she took the stick and held it for the dog to sniff. “But you nearly scared him to death.”
“Dogs, kids and marines—you have to let them know who’s in charge.”
The fairy’s chin rose a fraction. “And who’s in charge is determined by who yells the loudest?” Her smile wavered and then vanished completely. “I’ve never felt his heart beat this fast. You don’t think he could have a heart attack, do you?” Her eyes—the bluest Rick had ever encountered—grew wide with concern. She puckered her lips and pulled the pooch against her cheek. “Shhh. Shhhh. You’re my good little boy, aren’t you? Yes, you are. You’re my good little Peewee boy.”
The top of the woman’s head only came to Rick’s chest. He gazed down at an ocean of golden waves cascading down her back. Glistening in the sunlight, they created quite an intoxicating vision.
“I’m Rick Warren, by the way.”
“Hi, Rick.” She shifted Peewee to her other arm. “I’m—”
“Nubbin!”
Herschel’s voice boomed from behind them, followed by Agnes’s high-pitched “Summer! What are you doing here?” Agnes’s and the fairy’s voices were almost identical.
The fairy’s concerned expression softened into an angelic countenance when the couple appeared. “Hey.” She gave them hugs. “I had a little time between parties, so I thought I’d drop by.”
Herschel looked pleased, but Agnes’s brows pinched into a worried frown.
“Rick, this is our youngest daughter, Summer.” Herschel made the quick introduction. Rick wished now that Agnes had finished her earlier description of their youngest daughter.
“Summer, this is Rick Warren, the new assistant director for Camp Sunny Daze.”
The smile, which had returned, vanished again from the young woman’s eyes, instantly replaced by a hint of something that made Rick uneasy.
“Glad to meet you, Rick. Or should I call you Mr. Assistant Director?” The voice was a purr with a distinct edge to it.
“Summer runs her own business.” Agnes pointed to the dress. “Fairy Princess Parties.”
“I see.” Pretending to be a fairy princess. The idea was laughable. “Well, if the business doesn’t make a go of it, you can always get a job at a theme park, right?” Rick thought he’d made a joke, but the blue eyes shot a round of daggers his direction. He tried again. “What’s the thing—the, um, wand—made of?”