Island Girls (And Boys) Read online

  We hugged one another, and I knew they felt the same way.

  CHAPTER 4

  I loved being on the island as dawn hovered, not quite there yet, still only a promise in the dark. There was something magical and romantic about it.

  I crawled out of bed and powered up my laptop. I�d set it up the night before on a little rickety desk that I think my grandma picked up at a garage sale. I liked to start each day by checking out my horoscope online�one of my little guilty pleasures. It seemed contradictory for someone as business-minded as I was to turn to the stars for advice, but I liked seeing how close the predictions were.

  Today�s was a bit disconcerting, though. An important relationship will not go in the direction you had hoped.

  What did that mean?

  It had to mean a bad direction, because I would only hope for a good direction. So was I going to have a falling out with someone? With whom? Chelsea? Amy? My employer? My summer list of important relationships was short.

  The house was quiet as I crept down the stairs in the dark. I went into the kitchen and flipped on the light.

  For some reason, I was always more hungry on the island. Maybe it was the fresh air. I opened a can of cinnamon rolls, arranged them in a baking dish, and put them in the oven.

  I made a cup of green tea and took it to the table. The kitchen didn�t have a traditional table. It had a booth set against the window. I opened the blinds. I could see the lights twinkling on the mainland. The sky was beginning to lighten. I crossed the room, turned out the light, and returned to the table. Sitting, I lifted my feet to the opposite bench and cleared my mind of horoscopes. I heard a foghorn blast.

  This is the life, I thought. Going to bed when I wanted. Getting up when I wanted. Cooking what I wanted to eat for breakfast. Every decision mine to make.

  Another foghorn sounded. It was such a lonely isolated sound. I could see the silhouette of a barge moving sluggishly through the canal between the island and the mainland.

  The timer went off. I took the rolls out of the oven and slathered all of the icing on half of them. I went back to the table, the aroma of cinnamon wafting around me.

  The sky was growing lighter. I could see four sleek, beautiful dolphins, leaping out of the water.

  What a fantastic way to begin the day! It promised to be the best.

  I�ll also have to add a five-dollar pain-in-the-butt charge to your bill.

  That�s what I was thinking as I smiled at the customer standing in front of me at the campground registration counter. What I actually said�with a sickeningly sweet smile�was, �Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Warner!�

  With a grunt, he picked up his copy of the registration form that I�d filled out for him. He trudged to the door and opened it. The bell above it tinkled. As the door closed, I could hear Mr. Warner still grousing about the absence of shade trees.

  Hello! I wanted to shout after him. We�re on the beach! Fun, sun, sand! It comes with the territory! If you wanted shade, you should have gone camping in the woods!

  But I didn�t shout at him. I kept smiling.

  This morning, after Chelsea and Amy joined me for breakfast, we�d discussed our budget for the summer. We were making minimum wage, only working thirty-six hours a week. We didn�t have to pay rent. But we did have to pay for food, utilities, our cell phones, and gas to get us back and forth to work, since the campground was on the opposite side of the island from where we were living. And, of course, we wanted to be able to party a little.

  Which was the reason that I�d smiled at Mr. Warner instead of telling him to drive his thirty-four-foot travel trailer into the gulf. Honestly, sometimes I didn�t understand campers. Camping to me was a tent, in the wild, away from civilization, roughing it.

  Although I probably shouldn�t talk. Working at Coastal Campground Resorts was actually the closest I�d ever come to camping. I�d given Chelsea and Amy the grand tour when we arrived this morning. Then Mrs. Plackette had given us our assignments and our uniform, which we dutifully changed into: tan cargo shorts, a red polo shirt with the CCR logo, and a name tag.

  She and her husband owned and managed the campground. What she lacked in height she made up for with energy. Even I had a hard time keeping up with her.

  The main building where Chelsea and I worked housed the registration area and a couple of cash registers at the front. But most of the building was a store that stocked just about anything campers and beach buffs might need: groceries, tackle equipment, snorkeling equipment, souvenirs.

  I could look through the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows and see the Beach Hut�the snack bar and arcade�where Amy was working. Campers parked between the two buildings while they came in to register. Mr. Warner was just now pulling his monster trailer through so he could take it to his designated site.

  And with no one in line behind him, I had to return to the grunge work. You�d think working at a registration desk was easy, but I wasn�t paid to stand around and wait for customers. I crouched beside a large box. Our summer souvenirs had arrived. I had to verify that we�d been sent exactly what we�d ordered. This box was supposed to have forty-eight �Beach LVR� T-shirts. I had counted thirty-six when I heard the bell tinkle.

  I shoved myself to my feet�and stopped breathing.

  Suddenly I wasn�t thinking about souvenirs or camp guests who complained about too much sand, not enough shade, or too many mosquitoes. All I was thinking was that I�d never seen eyes so blue. They were the color of a deep ocean.

  Framed by long, dark lashes, they were set beneath thick, dark eyebrows. And they were smiling. As much as his mouth�which had a crooked smile. One side a little higher than the other. Surrounded by dark stubble. Sexy stubble that matched the color of the hair falling forward over his brow.

  �Hi,� he said.

  His voice was a deep rumble that made me think of sharing secrets in the night.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew CCR policy was to greet each customer with a bright smile and a �Welcome to Coastal Campground Resorts. How can I help you?� But all I could manage was �Hi.�

  Totally wrong. I hoped no one reviewed the security tapes later.

  �We were wondering how much it costs to camp here,� he said.

  We. We. We?

  I snapped to attention, broadened my vision, and noticed the guy standing beside him. But his blond hair and brown eyes barely registered with me. I turned my attention back to Blue Eyes. �What kind of vehicle?�

  �Motorcycle.�

  I shook my head. I�d been asking about recreational vehicle. RV. Camping vehicle. �What do you sleep in?�

  �Our boxer shorts,� his friend said.

  Blue Eyes laughed. �Come on, Zach. That�s not what she was asking.�

  He dropped his gaze to my chest. I wondered if he was hearing the hard thudding of my heart and wanted to watch when it burst through my ribs. He lifted his gaze back to me.

  �Jennifer��

  My name tag. He�d been reading my name tag.

  ��we have a tent.�

  I swallowed hard, cleared my throat, and went into sales speak. �Uh, for a tent, we have several options. We have the actual campsites that are blacktopped. You could park your motorcycle on the blacktop and pitch your tent on the sand between the sites. You�d have access to an electrical outlet and a water hookup there. It�s twenty dollars a night.�

  He grimaced. �Ouch. You said several options. Let�s skip right to the cheapest.�

  �That would be the beach.� And truly the only other option. I couldn�t figure out why I�d said �several� when there were really only two: paved campsite or beach.

  �How much is that?� he asked.

  �Actually, the beach is free.�

  �That�s what we want,� Zach said.

  �Not so fast,� Blue Eyes said. �What�s the catch?�

  �It�s ten dollars if you want to use the camp facilities