Trust Me Read online

  “Still mad at me?” he asked.

  “Still gives the impression there was a moment in time when I wasn’t mad at you,” I said.

  His grin broadened. Why didn’t he look dorky in his uniform? “Come on. There has to be some time when you weren’t mad at me?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t think of any.”

  “How ’bout last summer when I taught you how to feed the baby bird?”

  During one of the weekly scavenger hunts, he’d found a bird with a broken wing. It hadn’t been on the list of things to find that we’d been given, but nothing on the list had been as interesting. The robin had become the camp mascot. The counselors had put Sean in charge of caring for it. He’d let me help. It had been kinda neat. But sad, too, when it grew large enough that we had to set it free.

  I scrunched up my face. Which he must have liked because his grin got even bigger. How large a smile could he have?

  “Okay,” I admitted reluctantly. “The bird was cool.”

  “And how ’bout—”

  “Here you go,” Ed said, effectively halting our trek down memory lane.

  Thank goodness. Being duped into liking a guy who would lie and cheat wasn’t exactly my proudest moment.

  I stared at the length of rope Ed was dangling in front of us. It was maybe two or two and a half feet long.

  “Come on, little lady, take it,” he said.

  Okay, we had turned into a dude ranch while I slept.

  “What’s it for?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  He walked off. I looked at Sean—only because he was the closest person within eye contact.

  “Why didn’t he give you a rope?” I asked.

  Sean shrugged. “Maybe because I’m not a little lady.”

  He did a perfect imitation of Ed, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

  When Ed had finished passing out the ropes, Edna told us to tie one end around one of partner one’s ankles and the other end around one of partner two’s ankles. I could see where this was going and it was enough to cause my smile to fade.

  She said we were going to do synchronized walking through the woods.

  “Sounds like an Olympic event, doesn’t it?” Sean asked.

  I looked at him, realized I was smiling again, and wiped the smile from my face. I was not going to be charmed by a cheater. “She’s got to be kidding.”

  “Thought we’d already established that she does not kid,” Sean said.

  And just as he finished speaking, Edna explained that learning to hike through the woods, joined at the ankles, would teach us teamwork.

  Sean snatched the rope from my fingers, bent down, and began wrapping and knotting one end around my ankle.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said. “They’re treating us like kids. The whole reason I wanted to be a CIT was because I’m too old to do this kind of thing.”

  “It’s all part of the team-building mentality,” Sean said. “It’s like the way you teach a bunch of kids to get along. You give them common goals, something to work on together.”

  “You say that like you know all about teaching kids.”

  He peered up at me. He really did have beautiful blue eyes. “I have six younger brothers and sisters.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Unlike Edna, I do believe in joking, but not about that.” He began tying the other end of the rope around his ankle. “I’ve become pretty good at getting them to behave.”

  “Is that why they chose you to be a CIT?”

  “Among other things.” He stood up. “I think if we work hard at this we could score a perfect ten.”

  I thought he was referring to his earlier comment about the synchronized walking Olympic event. I couldn’t be sure, though. Something mischievous in his eyes made me wonder if perhaps he was talking about something else. Something more personal.

  Like us, maybe, as a couple being a perfect ten. Where did that thought come from?

  “Wasn’t one of your brothers at camp last year?” I asked.

  “Yep. Billy. He’s planning to come back this year.”

  “Brat-Boy,” I muttered because he was always getting into mischief. I guess that kind of thing ran in the family.

  “Okay, CITs, let’s go!” Edna yelled and trudged off in the direction of a worn trail that led into the woods.

  “Not fair. She and Ed aren’t joined at the ankle,” I grumbled.

  Sean chuckled.

  I started to head for the trail, but my foot got caught. Caught by the rope that Sean had tied to it. I stumbled back, right into his arms.

  “So you trust me now to catch you,” he said.

  “In your dreams.”

  In my dreams. Gosh, he seemed strong. When had that happened? Not that he’d ever held me in his arms before, but, sheesh. I worked my way free of his hold. I noticed we weren’t the only ones in an awkward position. The difference was everyone else was laughing, thinking it was funny.

  “You need to lighten up,” Sean said.

  “Are you saying that I’m heavy?” I asked, indignant. I so was not heavy. Maybe I wasn’t as thin as Liz—the vegetarian—but I wasn’t overweight.

  Shaking his head, Sean put his fingers on either side of my mouth and pulled the corners up. “Lighten up. As in your attitude. You are way too serious about this CIT training.”

  “You know at the end of the week, if we fail—”

  “Failure isn’t an option.” He took a small step and looked back at me. “We just have to work together.”

  Why was he being so reasonable? And why couldn’t I be? Wasn’t my ultimate goal not to be sent home by the end of the week? I didn’t have to date the guy. I didn’t even have to like him.

  All I had to do was endure.

  I could do that. Easy. No problem.

  Actually, once we got into step and adjusted our strides, walking joined at the ankles wasn’t too difficult. Of course, I didn’t see that it had much potential as an Olympic event.

  Sean and I were at the back of the pack. Every now and then, we’d hear a shriek and a grunt as someone stumbled. Embarrassed laughter. Twice I recognized Liz’s laughter. I wondered if she was tripping on purpose just to have Terrific Trent help her up.

  “So, how ’bout you,” Sean suddenly said. “You got any brothers or sisters?”

  What was he doing? Picking up a conversation from half an hour ago? I wanted to give him a pointed look or an are-you-a-doofus stare, but I figured any such action on my part would result in my falling into his arms. Literally.

  “A brother,” I admitted. We were, after all, in the midst of a semi-truce.

  “Younger? Older?”

  “Younger.”

  “Name?”

  I stopped. He kept going. My leg shot out as he stepped forward.

  I teetered. Shrieked.

  He spun back. Reached for me.

  I dropped to the ground. He fell on top of me. Grunted.

  Then he grinned. “We’re going to lose some points for this.”

  “Will you stop with the points already?” I shoved on his shoulders.

  He rolled off. I sat up. “Why do you even care what my brother’s name is?”

  He stood up, careful to keep his foot next to mine to avoid another fall. Then, to my surprise, he reached down and held out his hands.

  I thought about being prideful, getting up on my own, but in the end, I put my hands in his and let him pull me to my feet.

  Which was a big mistake. Because now we were standing really close. I was wishing he had freckles so I could distract myself with a quick game of connect the freckles. Instead, I had nothing to do except look into his eyes. They were the color of the lake and I felt like I was drowning.

  “Four summers,” he said quietly. “And I don’t know anything about you. Except you paint your toenails a bright red—”

  “I don’t.”

  “Gave it up, huh?”

  I shook my head. I was so n