a laugh at the ridiculous name.
“Charles,” Mom corrected, giving me a pointed look. “I hear he doesn’t like Charlie. Or Chuck.”
“What kind of guy is he?” I picked at the strings hanging off of my jean shorts with nervous fingers.
“Nice, I’m sure. You don’t get to be the head of a camp for underprivileged children by being a jerk.”
“Hmm.” I would reserve judgement on that until later.
“You’ll be assigned a cabin with one other female counselor and ten to fifteen campers. They’ve put you with the thirteen-year-olds since it’s your first time.”
I nearly choked on my own spit. “Thirteen-year-olds? I thought I’d be with kids a little younger. Did you wait to tell me this until we were already in the car halfway there?”
Mom gripped the steering wheel and didn’t meet my gaze. She’d known what she was doing, all right. “It’ll be fine. The kids will be great. You were quite sweet as a thirteen-year-old.”
I shot her a look. “Like when I stole your credit card to buy that cell phone case online? I was thirteen then.”
“Oh, yeah.” She went quiet, the road noise filling in the silence for us.
A sign reading “Camp Shadow Lake Next Exit” took my anxiety to the next level.
My stomach clenched like a fist.
She followed the signs and turned down a long driveway lined with some of the tallest pines I’d ever seen. Beneath their branches, ferns grew and birds flitted about, their song filtering through the open car windows. This place was beautiful and serene. I inhaled the smell of loamy earth and conifer needles, letting it settle my spirit.
It would all be okay. I was ready. I could do this.
The camp entrance came into view, a wooden arch over the road that read “Camp Shadow Lake” in bold letters. Behind it, the trees pulled back and several large log cabins appeared on the left while a baseball field stretched out on the right.
Sports. Yay.
Mom puttered through, stopping when a group of seven teenagers strolled across the drive. I sized them up from behind my dark sunglasses. Four girls and three guys, all young and beautiful, acting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. While I watched, one of the girls pushed a guy flirtatiously, and he responded by snatching her hat and running off with it. She howled and darted after him.
Summer romance. That was one of the reasons counselors worked at these camps, right? Did I have any romantic notions? I hadn’t exactly dated since my dad’s death and the subsequent fallout. Still, I scanned the remaining guys, not feeling any spark.
Then, he crossed our path.
He was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen—tall and broad with a chiseled body and dark hair and eyebrows that contrasted with his surprisingly pale skin. My breath caught as I took in his sculpted physique and angular jawline. No one working at a kids’ summer camp was supposed to be this glamorous, right? He could’ve been a movie star or model, so what was he doing here?
His eyes darted toward us, locking onto mine with laser focus. An explosion of butterflies flitted around my stomach, and my mouth went dry. I felt trapped and set free at the same time. Did he know I was staring at him through my tinted sunglasses?
The deep frown that settled over his perfect features seemed to indicate that he might. Was that anger? Impatience? Revulsion?
He turned on his heel and stalked back the other way, shaking his head. I stared after him, confused.
Shit. What had I done to piss him off like that? Was just the sight of me so disgusting?
Mom began to mutter as she pulled into a parking spot, obviously having noticed the guy’s strange behavior. “I’m sure the other counselors are much friendlier.”
The ice cold finger running down my spine wasn’t so sure. I’d only seen the parking lot, and I was already feeling some bad juju in this place.
We stepped out of the car and into the sunshine, our feet crunching on gravel as we walked up the stairs to the camp office. It was another dingy wood building—this whole place would go up like a pack of matches, it was so combustible. The sign out front said “Camp Office,” in case there was any doubt.
“Original,” I muttered, garnering an elbow jab from Mom.
“Hello?” she called, peering around the screen door. “Piper Williams is here for registration.”
It was then I realized I should have insisted she wait in the car.
“I can