Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
The fish cabin?
“Huh?”
“Oh.” Another forced laugh from Trent as he shifted to face me, letting go of my fist. His hand came down on my shoulder, as if he was holding me back. “I told him you were writing a book, so he thought the fish cabin would be a good idea.”
Keith’s lips were mashed together, his dimple showing (I hated his dimple). His shoulders shook with repressed laughter.
The prick.
The fish cabin had been given that name for a reason. That’s what it had been used for. Cleaning fish. They’d stopped using it for that purpose after a local game warden threatened to report the camp. He’d been half-joking, but the next week a camper threw up from the fumes, so Keith declared it abandoned.
Until now, apparently.
I’ve mentioned he’s a dickhead, right?
Fine. Whatever. I gave him a closed-mouth smile, though it was painful as hell to my cheeks. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”
He held up his hands. “I was just thinking about your writing. It’s the most private place on the island.”
For a reason.
He laughed. “Besides, it’s not that bad anymore. We’ve had it cleared out over the last few summers, so just spray some of that nice-smelling stuff you girls wear and it should be as good as new.”
“I’ll make do.”
The fish cabin was at the tip of the island, closest to where the bridge and road came on to the island. My cabin would be north of the main lodge in the center of the island, and to the west of the village that had the nicest cabins. That was Morningside. There was a patch of trees between the main lodge and the basketball courts to the south, so my walk would be a nice long one each morning.
“What about the staff headquarters?” I asked.
That was a building in Morningside that the staff used mostly during weekends. It was a bit more relaxed than the rest of the camp facilities, but I knew they had jazzed it up recently. I saw pictures of it on social media.
“It’s not available. All the rooms are booked up.”
The definition of asshole: exhibit A. Keith, such a bitch boss. He’d put me in the smelliest cabin, farthest from everyone I knew, and the closest cabins to me would be booked with campers—campers I still hadn’t identified. Lovely.
“Where’s Helen?”
At least she’d be a welcome change. In her early sixties, she was the main receptionist at camp. She didn’t live too far away from the island, so it was an easy drive back and forth. Plus, she hated Keith as much as I did. We’d bonded over it, and I missed her.
A flash of guilt settled in my gut.
She’d been another one I stopped coming back to visit, stopped checking in with. Crap. The last I knew, Helen’s husband had medical problems. He could be dead by now.
Way to go, Charlie. Way to drop the ball on everyone.
Keith’s nose wrinkled and he rested his hands on his stomach. “Helen won’t be here for the three weeks.”
“What? Why?”
Trent nudged my elbow, nodding toward the pile of NDAs on Keith’s desk. I got his implication. Helen sucked at keeping secrets—hence a very old friendship with her. My uncle had visited me from Missouri one time. He was going through the area and wanted to say hello. Keith made him sign an NDA.
My uncle still talks about how we must have had the country’s president at our camp.
He would’ve been sorely disappointed.
It’d been a group of sixth grade boys for fishing week. In fact, I was certain that’s when the camper had retched from being in the fish cabin.
“Because she had a family emergency.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Keith looked away, starting a drum solo on his stomach.
He was lying, but I got it. And damn, I was really wondering who these people were that were coming.
I sighed. “Just tell me if these people are going to be assholes.”
I realized who I was asking and rotated to face Trent. “Am I going to want to kill these people?”
He cocked his head to the side. His eyebrows went up, and he raised a hand to scratch behind his head. “Well…”
Fuck. I was.
“I mean, you don’t have the best record at liking people, so…” He faltered, his eyes locking on Keith’s. “Help me out here.”
Keith deadpanned, “You hate people. You’ll hate them.”
I hated him.
And I wanted to ask if a hot air balloon could ever use cold air instead.
I raked a hand through my hair. “Okay, then.” I punched Trent’s shoulder. “Help me move in?”
“Uh.” I didn’t miss the way his eyes returned to Keith. “I need to go over my talk.”
Right. Because he’d been asked to come here. I had been foisted on the camp. Got it. I swung around to Keith.
“So where’s the rest?”
I knew Owen and Hadley from our group had moved back from when I was still on the email chain. Even though I never replied, I’d been happy for them. Owen’s dream was to run this place. Though evidently he hadn’t gotten there yet.