The Danger With Fireworks (Holiday Romance Book 3)

by Robin Daniels

  It took Chloe two complete practices before she admitted I was right. I knew she could see it after the first, but she was too stubborn to admit defeat. She was trying to teach me a salsa routine. Her poor toes couldn’t handle me stepping on them, so Thursday night she scrapped the whole dance and choreographed another one. I liked the new routine much better, and not only because I didn’t have to move. The choreography was funny. Humor came much easier for me than sexy did.

  She’d turned our act into a flamenco dance. But instead of me being her partner, I was more like her prop. She’d made up this detailed storyline where she was trying to seduce me, and I was trying to resist, but by the end I’d succumb to her feminine charm. Oh, the irony.

  For the performance, Chloe would wear a fancy dress while I wore my staff shirt and a sombrero. (That was my idea.) She had this big fan made out of feathers that she waved around while she twirled her skirt and stomped her feet. She’d run it up my arms and across my face, ruffle my hair with it…that kind of stuff. All I had to do was stand there, stoically brushing her hand away from my shoulder or peeling her leg off, when she wrapped it around me. I had to hand it to her, the whole production was pretty creative.

  “Ham it up a little,” Chloe said as she floated around, trailing her fingers down my jaw and resting her hand against my chest. “You’re an actor. Start acting.” She’d walked me through everything, and now we were practicing with the music. “You have to play the part. Otherwise you just look bored.” She paused, flashing her serious face. “And I look like a tramp.”

  I laughed. “What exactly is my character? A pole?”

  She went over to her phone and pushed pause on the music, then came back and stood in front of me, obviously annoyed. “No, smarty pants. You’re a man, tortured by desire, bridling his passion because he doesn’t want to be hurt by the temptress who’s luring him into a forbidden romance.” She pulled herself tight against me. I gulped. “Wrap your arm around my waist,” she ordered, and I complied. As she ran her fan down my cheek, I turned my head to avoid getting feathers in my mouth, but it didn’t work. I started spitting the fuzz off my tongue. She grabbed my chin and forced my face back to hers. “Focus!”

  “But it tickles,” I complained. “And I’m not a fan of chicken à la feather. I prefer my birds naked and fried.” She wasn’t amused by my joke.

  “Not funny.” She glowered at me. “Where’s the lust, the sensuality? I want to feel your hunger.” She grabbed a fistful of my shirt with her free hand and got up in my face. “I need you to smolder.”

  I snorted. “Smolder?”

  She dropped her fan and took a step back, losing the intensity in favor of whining. “Come on, Garland. You have to try, or you’ll ruin it. I’ve heard Clint’s song. He wrote it himself, and it’s really good. I want ours to be better. The winners get a trophy, ultimate bragging rights, and guaranteed use of a canoe during the fireworks.” She reached up, put both hands on my shoulders, and shook me. “Do you know how hard it is to secure one of those bad boys? Clint holds them hostage and sells them off to the highest bidder.”

  “Fine. I’ll smolder.” Being on the lake during the fireworks sounded cool. Plus, I’d do almost anything to beat Clint.

  “Show me,” she insisted.

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  “But I’m not in character yet.”

  She threw her hands on her hips and gave me the face that said I mean business. “This will help you get into character.”

  All the poking and prodding, combined with the talk of passion and romance, built up a surge of bravado. I don’t know what came over me, but without thinking, I grabbed Chloe and spun her forcefully into my arms. Then, never breaking eye contact, I dipped her quickly. Her dancer’s reflexes took control, her arm winding around my neck and her leg wrapping around my hip. I grabbed the back of her thigh, as if we’d switched to dancing the tango. Her eyes got wide, and her shallow breaths quickened. I could feel her heart pounding; it was beating almost as fast as mine.

  Finally, I conjured up a smoldering look—or at least what I thought a smolder would look like—and went for the kill. The neckline of her leotard was wide and low, giving me perfect access. I pressed my lips against her collarbone and trailed them up her neck until they grazed the lobe of her ear. “Were you thinking something like this?” I whispered.

  There was complete silence. I couldn’t fathom what Chloe must be thinking right now if she was too stunned to speak. Loud applause broke out from across the dance studio. It was late, and I hadn’t realized we gained an audience. I tipped Chloe upright and turned around to find Marissa standing there with a wicked grin.

  “That was so hot. Like crazy, sexy hot. You should totally do that in your dance. It’d be the perfect way to end.”

  I glanced back at Chloe. She still looked dazed. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “That was great. We should use it for the finale… I need some water.”

  Marissa walked over to me. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

  “I can’t.” I laughed. “That wasn’t dancing; it was acting.”

  “Could have fooled me. Someone should give you a Tony. That was the most convincing ‘dance’ I’ve ever seen. The only thing that would make it more believable is if you kissed her.”

  Chloe choked on her water. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yep, just got a little down the wrong pipe.”

  “What do you think?” Marissa looked at Chloe, raising her eyebrows up and down.

  Chloe’s spaced out expression disappeared, and suddenly, she was a professional again. “A stage kiss might be good. Right after you dip me.” She looked at me hesitantly. I think she could sense my panic. I felt like a duck, calm on the surface but frantic under the water. How was I supposed to kiss her without kissing her? Stage kisses and real kisses were not the same thing. I wasn’t sure I could contain myself if our lips were touching.

  “Let’s run it through a few more times first. You can add a kiss, if you feel so inclined.” She sounded mischievous as she patted me on the shoulder. “I promise not to smack you.”

  Chloe went to restart the music, and Marissa headed for the door. “I better let you guys get to work. It looks amazing.” As she passed me, she whispered, “You’re welcome.” I felt the color drain from my face. She chuckled in an evil villain sort of way and walked out the door.

  Classes were canceled on Friday afternoon. It was all hands on deck, getting ready for the party. Chloe and I got one more practice in late Friday night. We did the dance half a dozen times, but I never kissed her. It’s not that I was a coward about kissing, it’s that I was a coward about kissing her.

  Saturday at lunch, Chloe was a ball of hyperactivity. “I’m so excited! Are you guys ready to get destroyed?” she asked the group at our table.

  “Destroyed isn’t a strong enough word,” Matt replied, stabbing at his fruit with unnecessary force. “Annihilated is a better choice, and you’ve got the outcome backward. We’ll be doing the annihilating today.” He reached his hands across the table to Marissa and Shelly, who gave him high fives in unison.

  “Honestly,” Marissa said, flashing Chloe and me a sympathetic expression, “I don’t think it will be a humiliating defeat. Your act is good.” She shrugged. “Ours is just better.”

  “Are you at least going to tell us what you’re planning?” I asked Matt. They’d snuck off for a clandestine practice early this morning. “Marissa’s seen ours. It’s only fair.”

  Shelly spoke up. “We would, but it’s an improvisational skit. We’re sort of making it up as we go.” Matt shushed her. She grimaced at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not ruining anything.” Looking back at me, she added, “I can’t give you any more details, or it won’t be as fun when you watch it.”

  Chloe’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “If it’s improvised, why did you guys get up at the crack of dawn to practice?”

  “It’s not that random. We do
have a plan.” Marissa grinned at her coconspirators. “Also, we had to drive into town for supplies.”

  The closest town was a thirty-minute trip, and we weren’t supposed to leave the camp without permission from Vivian. Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. “Does Viv know you left?”

  “Of course.” Matt scoffed. “We want to win, not get fired. That’s why we left so early. She said we could go as long as we were back by breakfast.”

  “There’s not much open at five thirty in the morning. Your skit can’t be that awesome if you could get everything you need at Walmart,” I taunted.

  He gave me a not-so-kind gesture. “We’ll still wipe the floor with you.”

  Vivian chose that moment to float by us with a plate full of food. She spoke to Marissa. “Did you guys find everything you need?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, good. It’s such a clever idea. I’m excited to see it.” Matt gave us a smug grin, but Vivian put a quick stop to the gloating. “Since you three are already prepped for your skit, would you please help Clint carry the sound equipment down to the amphitheater? There’s so much, and it’s so heavy…” Matt’s back was to Vivian. When his lip curled up, I smirked. “You guys can finish eating first, obviously.”

  “We’d be happy to help.” Shelly smiled.

  “Thank you, dear.” She blew an air kiss at Shelly and drifted to a different table, doling out more unwanted assignments. It was standard practice to complain when Clint assigned a menial task, but nobody would dare argue with Vivian.

  Chloe stood and grabbed me by the hand. It was so unexpected that I flinched. I don’t think she noticed, though, and she definitely didn’t seem to be weirded out by it. “Come on, Garland,” she said with a snooty air. “Let’s go put the finishing touches on our winning performance.” She picked up our plates using her free hand, then yanked me to my feet.

  I glanced around, offering a look of fake pity, and motioned to Chloe with a jerk of my chin. “Sorry, peeps. I’d offer to help you haul speakers, but she’s the boss.”

  “Man, you’re whipped.” Matt laughed. “And she’s not even your girlfriend.”

  “What’s that saying? Happy mom, happy life?” I’d botched it on purpose. Shelly giggled.

  “It’s wife, dummy.” Marissa flashed me the same wicked grin she used after suggesting I kiss Chloe. “And I think Benji’s an ordained minister, if you want to be promoted to husband.”

  “Yeah,” Matt added. “Then she can officially boss you around whenever she wants.”

  Chloe clamped down on my fingers and started dragging me from the table. “Great idea, Matt. We’ll go take care of that right now.” I followed her blindly in a haze of consternation. This conversation had derailed quickly.

  Once outside, I dropped her hand. “I’m not sure getting hitched is the best idea right now. Marriage is like swimming. You’re supposed to wait an hour after eating.”

  “Thirty minutes is long enough,” she teased.

  “Even so, I don’t think Clint would be too happy if I stole you from him.”

  She shrugged. “Clint doesn’t own me. Besides, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  I couldn’t believe she had such a cavalier attitude. We were both joking around, but still… She’d been holding my hand ten seconds ago, as if it were an ordinary thing to do. Like she was my girlfriend. If I were Clint, I’d be pissed. I was torn right now between guilt and elation.

  “Did you really want to practice again?” I asked.

  “No, I just wanted to get out of there before Vivian found a chore for us.” She chuckled. “You want to hit the hammocks? Kick back, relax before the big performance?”

  This was a bad idea. Hammocks were on Chloe’s romantic-things-at-summer-camp list. A romantic situation was the last thing I needed. I came up with a lame excuse. “I probably shouldn’t. If I get in one of those, I’ll fall asleep.”

  “Don’t stress. I’ll wake you up before showtime.”

  She laced her arm through mine. I guess no was the wrong answer. When we arrived, four of the five hammocks were taken. Chloe hopped in the last one, patting the space beside her. “Come on. It’s big enough for both of us.” When I hesitated, she frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Against my better judgement, I joined her. “Nothing’s wrong,” I replied. Except I was lying, because everything about this was wrong. Especially the part where it felt right.

  “Next up we have a string trio: Jackie on the violin, Joel on the cello, and Madilyn on the harp.” Vivian ushered three instrument-wielding counselors onto the stage, and the audience gave a polite round of applause.

  Clint had gone at the beginning of the show. The song was a little cheesy, all lovey-dovey and whiny. Not exactly what I expected from him, but he wasn’t stupid. He was playing to his audience. All the girls swooned. I almost barfed. As much as I hated to admit it, he had a good voice and he was solid on the guitar. He’d give us a run for our money.

  “You ready?” I asked Shelly. “You guys are up next.” She was decked out, head to toe in white, and she looked apprehensive as she wrung her hands repeatedly.

  “Yeah. Matt and I have the easy part. Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “All we have to do is stand there and try not to wiggle or laugh.”

  I chuckled. “Sounds strangely like my role in Chloe’s and my routine.”

  Matt approached us, also wearing white. I gave him the once-over, then cocked an eyebrow and said, “Interesting costume choices. Are you two marshmallows off to a campfire after this?”

  “Zey are my canvas!” Marissa swooped in with a bad French accent. She looked the part of an artist, wearing a painter’s smock and red beret. She’d even penciled in a thin mustache over her lip. “Now go, before you ruin the magic.”

  I glanced to the top row of the theater. Chloe and Clint were up there, talking to the judging panel, who consisted of all the real adult staff, as Matt had called them. The winner was supposed to be decided by applause, but it was up to the judges to evaluate which act got the biggest and best reaction. Chloe was leaning on the table, looking at a piece of paper, and Clint had his hand resting on her back. At least it wasn’t on her butt. He’d really toned it down on the PDA lately.

  The front row of the amphitheater had been reserved for performers, so I went to the end of the nearest bench and took a seat. The trio exited stage left, and Vivian pointed to stage right. “The next act is a skit featuring Marissa, Matt, and Shelly. They’ve titled it ‘The Masterpiece.’”

  Shelly and Matt walked onto the floor, carrying a large canvas drop cloth. They opened it all the way, then stood side-by-side on the center of it. Both of them pulled a pair of snorkeling goggles from their pocket, which they placed securely over their eyes before clasping hands and nodding to each other.

  Music blared from the speakers. It was that famous piece from The Barber of Seville, which I only knew because of the Bugs Bunny cartoon where it’s playing while he torments Elmer Fudd with a straight razor and a can of shaving cream. Marissa came out, pushing a cart full of paint, brushes, and rollers. She walked around Matt and Shelly, sizing them up as if deciding how to create art out of them.

  Marissa told me she was a painter, so I figured she’d be doing something technical on Matt and Shelly’s clothes. I certainly didn’t expect her to start by picking up a paint roller, dipping it in a pan of hot pink paint, and smearing it across Matt’s face. The crowd gasped as she rolled it down his whole front, then roared with laughter. She did the same thing to Shelly, only using an obnoxious neon green color. Suddenly, the music selection felt very appropriate.

  Marissa spent the rest of the song completely covering the two in dozens of paint colors, using every application method imaginable. She splattered them with her brushes, smeared it on with a putty knife, wiped it all over their arms and legs with her fingers. They were drenched.

  Shelly squirmed the entire time, which was amusing in and of itself. She�
�s so prissy that I couldn’t believe she willingly agreed to participate. Personally, my favorite part was when Marissa took a squirt bottle of orange paint and drizzled it over Shelly’s head. She cringed, knowing as well as I did that her pale blonde hair would have orange highlights for a while. But the real crowd-pleaser was when Marissa pressed her paint-covered hands against Matt’s chest, creating a royal blue handprint bra. That’s funny for people of any age. For an audience of teenagers, it was comedic gold.

  When the song reached its finale, Marissa took a can of spray paint and tagged them with her signature. The music finished in a flourish, and the three of them took a bow. The crowd went nuts. And they got even crazier when Matt and Shelly tackled Marissa, making her the middle of a painted sandwich.

  Chloe slipped onto the bench next to me. “Oh. My. Gosh! That was insane! Can you believe they did that?” We watched our rivals slap hands as they dripped their way off the stage. “Can you believe Shelly actually let them do it?”

  I laughed. “I was literally thinking the exact same thing. They must have bribed her. I don’t know how we’re supposed to compete with that, no matter how much we ham it up.”

  Chloe gave me a dirty look and pointed her finger in my face. “Don’t you dare. Our dance is awesome. We just have to pull out all the stops.” She jumped from the bench. “Get up. We’re on deck, and I need you to stand guard while I change.

  Behind the stage, there was a makeshift dressing area. I held up a blanket to shield Chloe while she slipped into her dress. She already had her hair and makeup done, but she didn’t want to wear the full costume until it was time to go on. She thought wandering around in it beforehand would take away some of the wow factor. She was one-hundred percent right. When she told me it was safe to drop the blanket, all I could say was, “Wow!”

  “You like it?” She beamed. A faint blush crept into her cheeks.

  I nodded wordlessly for a moment. “You look incredible.”

  “It’s not what a traditional flamenco dancer would wear, but it’s the best I could find. Feels like I stepped off the set of Zorro.”