help us out on the food end as much as she can, but that’s it. You’re looking at Camp Echo as it stands right now. We just don’t have the manpower to create a surprise four-week program.”
“Understood.” She nodded, but the mad-spots on her cheeks hadn’t faded a bit. “I’m not entirely sure what I understand, but it’s too late to turn around, at least tonight. Maybe you could show us to our cabins, then? So we can be out of your way?” Gabi got her keys ready, like she was about to drive down some sort of flower-strewn pathway to her two-story cottage with its maid service and full bath.
“We don’t have camper cabins, Gabi.”
“What do you mean—you don’t have cabins?” She peered around him, and he knew she could see the admin cottage and the dining hall, but no other structures, since his own cabin was up over the hill. He could practically feel the fear, not to mention the barely bridled anger, radiating from her skin.
He crossed his arms again. “We have tents.”
“Tents?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not serious.”
“Dead serious.” He pushed away from the van, motioning for her to follow. “But I’ll be happy to show you to yours.”
She reached for his elbow, touching it lightly, then pulling back quickly like she hadn’t meant to actually do so.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
He turned around. “Look, this isn’t Camp Ritz. We have tents.”
“Oka-ay?” Her eyes darted left and right. “But what about … wildlife? I mean—because the girls will ask. What kinds of creatures do you tend to have … here?”
“You mean, which kind can get into tents? Or which kind doesn’t generally bother?”
“Not funny, Mr. Magellan.”
“It’s Luke.”
“It’s not funny, Luke.”
He put up his hands in a placating motion. “We have a lot of wildlife. But as long as the girls follow the rules, they shouldn’t have a problem.”
“Okay.” She took a shaky breath. “And you’ll tell us those rules before dusk?”
“If we have time.” Then he put up a hand. “I know. Not funny. Come on. Follow me. I saved you a special bearproof tent.”
“They make those?”
He stopped and turned, almost making her crash into him. The smell of her perfume did crash into him, and the sweet spiciness of it wasn’t at all what he expected. Dammit. He did not want to like anything about this woman, including how she smelled.
“Gabi, have you ever seen a bear?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen a picture of a bear?”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes.
“How about their teeth?”
“Um…”
He smiled, then turned back down the pathway. “There’s no such thing as a bearproof tent.”
Chapter 3
“You said we had a tent.” Five minutes later, Gabi stared at a twelve-by-twelve-foot plywood platform surrounded by pines. She’d grudgingly admit that the clearing was gorgeous—tall, tall trees, pine needles carpeting the ground, and a cacophony of bird sounds coming from every direction.
But there was no tent.
“It’s in the storage shed.” Luke pointed at the boards, right now covered with pale orange needles. “But it’ll go right here.”
“Who’s going to put it up?” She hated the words as they came out of her mouth, already having a pretty good idea what his answer was going to be.
“The girls should.”
Gabi laughed nervously, picturing her four girls having to figure out how to put up a tent. It was so not going to happen, even with her help. She’d never put one up in her life, either.
“Does it come with directions?”
“Nope. Just a lot of parts. But I’m sure they’ll figure it out. Tents aren’t all that complicated.”
“So you’re thinking that on day one of arriving here at Camp Echo, these girls should have to figure out how to build their own sleeping structure?”
He rolled his eyes. “They’re not building a sleeping structure. They’re putting up a tent.”
Then another thought struck Gabi. If there were no cabins, then what about bathrooms? “Just out of curiosity, where are the restrooms?”
She saw a tiny smile sneak over Luke’s face as he pointed a little farther down the trail. “Follow me.”
They walked for about thirty steps over a small rise, and Gabi almost tripped when Luke stopped and pointed.
“There you go.”
Gabi took a quick, appalled breath when she saw the three-by-six-foot wooden hut set just off the path. It looked like someone had gone a little wild with a paintbrush not long ago on its sides, so it was fresh and colorful, but good Lord, it was an outhouse. An outhouse.
“That’s. Not. A restroom.”
“Oh, but it is.”
“We were told—”
“Look.” Luke