bathrobes was thrown over a beach chair pushed askew on the deck. Celeste could see Nick’s figure bobbing in the turquoise water.
“Hey!” he greeted her enthusiastically. He swam to the side of the pool and rested his tanned arms on the edges.
“Hi,” Celeste said warily, as she set the tray down on a side table. “Here’s your stuff.”
“Thanks,” Nick said, not even glancing at the tray. He stared up at her. His straight blond hair was plastered to his forehead and he wore a pair of baggy navy swimming trunks. In one clean motion, he hoisted himself out of the pool, the wiry muscles in his arms flexing, and stood in front of Celeste, dripping and panting. She couldn’t help notice that even though he was skinny, his abs and chest muscles were clearly defined and his shoulders were broad and strong looking. Celeste realized she was staring and looked away.
“Well, I’m really busy,” she said, turning away, “so have a good swim and—”
“Wait!” Nick said. Celeste turned back.
“What?”
“Don’t you want to go for a swim? My parents are gone all day and we could order lunch… .”
Celeste had to consciously restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “Nick,” she said, as if talking to a kinder-gartener, “I’m working right now. That’s like a job, you know? Actually, maybe you don’t know.” It came out a little harsher than she intended and a faint frown crossed his face. “And shockingly,” she said, softening her tone,
“I didn’t think to bring a bathing suit.”
Nick smiled devilishly. His perfect teeth flashed in the sun and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. He stepped a little closer and Celeste caught a whiff of deodorant and warm skin. She felt her skin prickle at his nearness and inhaled sharply. “So what?” he said, grinning. “We don’t need suits… .”
Celeste jerked her head back and suddenly realized how close they’d been standing. She stepped backwards, fast.
Nick laughed. “Or we could just play Scrabble,” he said, collapsing gracefully onto a lounge chair. “Strip Scrabble.”
Celeste gave him her dirtiest look and spun on her heel, marching through the empty guesthouse without looking back. She knew that if she did she’d see Nick staring after her with his nuclear-powered grin. “Nuclear”
was also a good description for what Travis’s reaction would have been to that little conversation.
Celeste stalked down the path, barely managing to fire a pleasant Pinyon-employee smile at an old lady tottering by with a walker. She blew air out of her nose like an elephant, trying to calm her pounding heart.
As her heart rate slowed, she felt her phone vibrate.
Damn it! He just never quit! Forget Dad’s warning. This was too much. Celeste grabbed the phone out of her pocket and flipped it open so hard she almost broke it off its hinges.
“No!” she shouted. “No, I am not bringing over more towels! Or swimming with you. Or skinny-dipping. Not now or ever!”
There was a moment’s silence on the other end.
“Okay,” a voice said dubiously. “But are you sure about the skinny-dipping?”
Celeste stopped walking. “Oh my God. Devon?”
“Yeah,” Devon said. “Now will you go skinny-
dipping with me?”
Celeste’s knees felt weak and wobbly. “I’ve just had the worst half hour you can ever imagine,” she said, now walking very slowly, like an old, old lady.
“Well, it’s about to get a little worse. You have to get over here ASAP. Travis is out back asleep and your dad was just in the office, asking where he was. He’s gone to look for him.”
“Damn it! Distract him, do something!” The only
thing worse than having Travis and Nick in the same place all summer would be not having Travis around at all. And while “sleeping on the job” wasn’t specifically on her father’s list of fireable offenses, Celeste was pretty sure it went without saying.
“I can’t, he just left.”
“I’ll be right there.” Celeste clicked her phone shut and broke into a run.
Chapter Eight
Celeste flew down the path to the main building, almost knocking over two of the sous-chefs wheeling a tower-ing pink-frosted cake toward one of the guesthouses.
“Hey, Celeste!” one of them called after her, but she didn’t turn around.
What was he thinking? she wondered as her deck shoes pounded the red sandstone. Now Travis would be fired and go back to the beach and she’d see him twice all summer! Or Travis would be fired and her dad would sue him for the golf cart money and he wouldn’t be able to pay it, so he’d have to go to jail instead of Arizona, and she’d still never see him. Or …
Celeste skidded around the corner of the kitchen off the main building. Travis lay peacefully under the big tree, his arms stretched over his head and the cool green light from the leaves flickering over his face.
“Travis!” Celeste hissed as loud as she could.
“Wake up!”
He opened his eyes slowly and smiled dreamily.
“Celeste,” he mumbled. “You’re here. I was having a dream… . You were there. You were wearing this red silky thing … and cowboy boots.” He propped himself on his elbows. From behind her, Celeste heard the kitchen door bang.
“Get up, get up, get up!” she whispered frantically, tugging at Travis’s hand. “My dad!”
His eyes snapped open like window shades and he
scrambled to his feet. “Your dad?” he said, whipping his head around. “Where?”
“Here, now!” Celeste thrust the discarded weed-
whacker into his hand and pressed the start button just as she heard her father’s voice from behind her.
“Travis, I was just looking for you.”
Celeste turned around. Travis was industriously
whacking the grass around her feet. He straightened up, wiping his forehead as if he’d spent the last half hour trimming every blade of grass at Pinyon.
“Hi, Dad,” Celeste said, wondering how her voice could sound so calm when her heart was still throwing itself wildly against the inside of her rib cage, like some sort of crazed hamster.
“Hey, Mr. Tippen,”
