I didn’t hear anything she said after that. I was busy gawking shamefully. The skirt was full, perfect for twirling and swishing. The accompanying belt hugged her tiny waist and accentuated her curvy hips. The blouse was billowy; its sleeves fell off the shoulders, drawing my eyes to her elegant neck and smooth skin. And then there was the corset… Not gonna lie, the outfit had my thoughts verging on inappropriate.
“Can you help, please?” Chloe asked twice before I realized she was still talking to me. She pointed toward her chest.
“You want me to lace up your corset?” My voice cracked. I looked over both of my shoulders. “Is this a trick? Is your dad standing by with a shotgun?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She smiled devilishly. “He prefers a crossbow.” My brows hit my hairline. She laughed. “And technically, I think it’s more of a bustier, because it laces in the front. Even so, I couldn’t pull the strings hard enough to get it really tight. That’s the only way to achieve cleavage when your boobs are as small as mine.”
I gulped. What she was asking me to do felt intimate, but she was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. I made a joke, because that’s how I dealt with uncomfortable situations. “You have a thing for those unseemly double oh words, don’t you? First poop, now boobs.”
“What’s wrong, Garland? Are they a little too taboo for you?” she teased, clearly finding herself hilarious. “Get it, too…and taboo…they both have double ohs.”
“Yes, dork, I get it.” She handed the bustier strings to me. “Are you sure I’m the one who should be doing this?” I asked skeptically. “If Clint sees us, he’ll probably try to kick my trash.”
“All dance partners do this kind of stuff for one another. Don’t make it awkward. Just pull the dang things as tight as you can, then tie them in a bow. It’s not that complicated.” She scrutinized me. “Unless you intentionally try to touch my boobs.” She emphasized the oo sound through her playful grin. “Then I’ll have to boot you in the boottom.”
I laughed at her corny attempt. “Yeah, that didn’t work.”
“You’re right.” Her nose scrunched, and she paused for a second before barking, “Quit being a prude, and tie me up already.”
“Excuse me?” I arched an eyebrow, mostly to get her goat.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Chloe started to snatch the strings back, but I yanked on them and laced her up. I was a complete gentleman, though I can’t say my mind didn’t wander a time or two. But the amount of grunting on Chloe’s end kept me honest. When I’d finished, she looked down at her chest and smiled. “That’s much better. Thank you.”
“I’m always happy to be of service.”
“I’m sure you are,” she mumbled.
I startled when Vivian rounded the corner. “You guys are up,” she said. My heart raced. If she’d arrived ten seconds earlier, the situation might have looked questionable.
Chloe grabbed my sombrero and plopped it on my head. “Lead the way, señor.”
Viv unhooked the microphone from its stand and held her arm out toward us. “For our final act of the afternoon, please give a hand to Chloe and Garland, who’ll be performing a flamenco dance.”
Chloe clutched my fingers. “Are you ready to do this?”
I took a deep breath. Despite all the improv sketches I’d done at school last year, performing still made me nervous. But it also gave me a thrill. “I was born ready.”
“Remember, this is for bragging rights.” Her cheeks plumped up with a smile. “Go big, or go home.”
While Chloe struck a dramatic pose and waited for the music to start, I surveyed the audience. They looked bored. We’d signed up for our time slot intentionally, even though we knew it was a gamble. Going last would help us stay fresh in the judge’s minds. But if the kids were tired of sitting in the hot sun, their apathy might be reflected in the applause.
An acoustic melody blared through the speakers, and Chloe sprang to life. After leading everyone to think this would be a formal performance, she switched gears and tried to get my attention while I ignored her. That earned a few chuckles, though not as many as I’d hoped. As she passed behind me, she grumbled, “Tough crowd.”
When it came down to being funny, everything really depended on me. Once I threw my dignity out the window, we started getting some good laughs. But Chloe’s sexiness was an equal contributor to our success. At the part where she leaned against my chest and shimmied, there was whooping and hollering. When she hiked up her skirt up to wrap her leg around me, there were numerous catcalls and a loud Marry me, Chloe!
As the dance was coming to an end, I knew we’d done well, but I wasn’t sure if it was enough to win. Chloe must have been thinking the same thing, because she went off script by ripping the sombrero from my head and throwing it into the crowd like a Frisbee. A bunch of girls in the third and fourth rows climbed over each other, trying to claim the prize.
Next, she took my hand and danced the feathers on her fan up my arm until they landed on my cheek. With her face shielded, she leaned in and touched her lips to my ear. Her warm breath tickled my neck when she said, “Kiss me.”
For such a miniscule contact, it had certainly been mind-altering. My ears heard “kiss me,” but my brain heard kiss me. The line between what she’d said and what I wished she said became incredibly blurry. I had two seconds to make the call, which wasn’t nearly enough time to be rational.
She wasn’t on her mark yet, but my hand snaked out and grasped hers. If she could improvise, I could, too. She tried to get away, so I spun her in quickly. My arm wrapped around her waist. Her body crashed against me, and we stilled. The resulting smolder incited a passion that looked almost as real as it felt. When I slowly plunged her into a low dip, all logic and reason disappeared.
And then I was kissing her.
I don’t think she believed I’d go through with it. Her shoulders tensed at first, but after a second, her body melted into mine. She wrapped her arms around my neck and wove her fingers through my hair. Even though she was as light as a feather, it took all my strength to hold her steady because her lips were so soft and sweet. The way our mouths moved together made me weak in the knees. This was no stage kiss. She was kissing me back.
Time stood still. I felt as if someone had set the fireworks off early and they were exploding in my chest. My heart raced, and my thoughts went blank until my ears started buzzing with the wild cheers and screams of the audience. I pulled back. Her eyes fluttered open. They were glossed over, and she looked totally out of it.
I tipped Chloe up and set her on her feet. Clasping her hand and raising it high in the air, I bowed, pulling her down with me. She finally shook whatever fog she was in and curtsied. When we ran off the platform, I caught Marissa’s eye. Her face held a mix of awe and satisfaction.
Chloe led me back behind the stage. We were alone, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. “That was amazing!” she cried. I wanted to take it as a compliment on my kissing ability, but I knew she was referring to the performance as a whole. “I hate to say it, but I thought you’d chicken out.”
She pushed up on her toes to hug me. The adrenaline that pulsed through her body leapt into mine, and I was suddenly feeling courageous enough to kiss her again. I was saved from catastrophe when Marissa and Shelly barged in on us and tackled Chloe.
“Oh, my gosh!” Shelly squealed. She turned to me. “I can’t believe you did that. Nobody was expecting it. Genius, I tell you. Pure, theatrical genius.”
“It looked so real, too.” Marissa grinned. “If it hadn’t been planned, I’d have thought there was something going on between you guys. Your chemistry was phenomenal.”
“I’ve never been kissed onstage before, but I have to assume that was an exceptional stage kiss.” Chloe glanced at me, then kept talking to the girls, not a stitch of apprehension about what she was admitting. “If you think it looked good, you should try being on the receiving end. I’ve had plenty of real kisses that weren’t as convincing
as his fake one.” Chloe bumped my arm with her shoulder and slipped her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. “Garland and I make an awesome team.”
I watched Marissa make a mental note of Chloe holding my hand and prayed that she wouldn’t say something. Partly because I’d be embarrassed if she called attention to it, and partly because I was worried that if she did, Chloe would let go. Holding her hand felt almost as good as kissing her.
Marissa opened her mouth but was cut off by Vivian’s voice through the speaker. “Okay, everyone, quiet down. The judges have reached a final decision. Can we please have all the performers onstage for the presentation of the trophy?”
Shelly and Marissa bolted, confident in their victory. Chloe followed, with our fingers still entwined. Bad news, since Clint was waiting by the stairs. When we passed him and he saw her holding my hand, he seized my arm and wrenched me out of her grip. Thankfully, she was sucked into the flow of traffic and didn’t seem to notice our abrupt disconnection.
My instinct was to push him off. However, I’d just planted one on his girlfriend in front of the whole camp. He had a right to be pissed, and I had to own the consequences. He stared at me for a brief moment, flames of contempt raging in his eyes. Instead of unleashing on me, though, he took a deep breath and spoke with the calmness of someone far beyond anger. “Not cool.”
His jaw was set firmly, and his head was shaking, but the punch I’d been bracing for didn’t come. Clint plowed through me and up the stairs. If it hadn’t been for Chloe, beckoning me to take the spot next to her, I may have run off with my tail between my legs.
Chloe and I didn’t win. We placed second, though, and the rest of our roomies took the first prize. I wasn’t too disappointed, because they’d earned it. Especially Matt and Shelly, who’d both gone straight home to shower but emerged with skin tinted in various shades of gray and brown. Shelly’s hair was indeed streaked orange. It was good enough for me that our family came in first and second… and that Clint didn’t get anything.
“I’m stuffed,” Marissa moaned. We were sitting on a blanket under the big shade tree at the edge of the beach. I’d convinced her to eat a hamburger with a bun and cheese. She gave in after my relentless prodding and reminders that it was a holiday. Overeating was expected on holidays.
“But aren’t your taste buds happy?” I asked.
“Of course they are. It’s not my taste buds I’m worried about, though. My intestines haven’t processed this much grease in I don’t know how long. I should get up and run it off, but all I want to do is take a nap.”
I patted my belly. “Spoken like a true glutton.”
We were supposed to be eating as a family, though Matt had ditched us in favor of joining a dancer named Julie. He kept saying he wasn’t interested in her, but after watching him hit on her for a good half-hour, I concluded that he was full of crap.
“Where’d Shelly run off to?” I looked around. “She was here a minute ago.”
Marissa slid her sunglasses out of her hair and over her eyes, then lay back and tucked her hands behind her head. “I don’t know. She’s been all kinds of secretive lately, giving vague explanations for where she’s been, coming in late. The other night I asked her if she was running off to meet a guy, fully expecting her to deny it, but she just turned red and clammed up.”
“Definitely a guy,” I agreed.
“I’ve been trying to figure out who it could be, and I’m coming up empty. She’s not very open about personal things, and she’s the least flirty girl I’ve ever met. I haven’t seen her talking to any one boy more than another.”
“Shelly’s a tough nut to crack.” I leaned back and crossed one ankle over the other. “I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready. Maybe she doesn’t want to say anything because she’s worried how it’ll look.” I raised my eyebrows up and down. “Or maybe he’s a huge dork, and she’s embarrassed.”
“Maybe it’s a camper…” Marissa said in jest, though her tone implied that she thought it might be a possibility.
“Shelly’s too smart for that.” I wrote off the idea without a second thought.
My eyes drifted across the beach until they landed on Chloe. Somehow, I was always able to locate her in a crowd. She was talking to Clint, and the discussion appeared heated. Actually, it looked more like an argument. She had her hands on her hips.
I couldn’t see Marissa’s eyes because her glasses were dark, but I could sense that she’d caught me staring. She cleared her throat. “So…your dance…”
I should have known this was coming. “What about it?”
“Nothing. It just seemed very—” she paused—“oh, what’s the word I’m looking for? Authentic, perhaps?”
I played it off like I didn’t know what she was hinting at. “That’s because Chloe’s a good dancer, and I’m an excellent actor. Authentic was the goal.”
“But it felt really authentic. Particularly at the end. Almost like you were enjoying it.”
I could handle this in two ways. The first would be denial, but that would only seem forced because I had enjoyed it—immensely. The second would be to take the honesty route. A blunt admission might make me sound casual. It always worked for Chloe. Nothing ever sounded like a big deal with her because she didn’t make a big deal out of anything.
“Duh. I was enjoying it. Actors love what they do. They wouldn’t be actors if they didn’t. There’s not a lot of money or glory in the theater. Besides, what guy wouldn’t like kissing a beautiful girl?”
I was still watching Chloe from the corner of my eye. Clint tried to pull her in by the belt loop. I hated when he did that. She stepped back so he reached for her hand instead. But she shook him off hard, opting to fold her arms over her chest. Marissa smiled lazily as I spied on the unhappy couple. “You think she’s beautiful?”
I rolled my eyes. “Any man who doesn’t think Chloe’s beautiful is either blind or gay. And most of the gay guys would probably still tell you she’s attractive.”
“I see.” She hummed. “And did you feel anything special when you guys were swapping spit?”
I felt a lot of things, but telling Marissa that was ill-advised. It would undoubtedly get back to Chloe, and I couldn’t take that risk. “Yeah, I felt like swapping spit was going to win us a trophy,” I retorted facetiously. “So much for that.”
“Sorry I ruined it for you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right.” She laughed.
Chloe threw her hands in the air, spun around, and stalked toward us. I didn’t exactly want to be discussing the kiss when she got here, so I tried to wrap up the conversation. “The things some people will do for a cheap hunk of plastic.”
Marissa was pensively quiet. I thought we’d moved on until she said, “It might interest you to know that Chloe liked it, too.”
Hold up. That wasn’t the kind of bomb one dropped when the subject of conversation was fifty feet away. My eyebrows furrowed. “She said that?”
Marissa grinned. “She didn’t have to.”
Yeah, that comment wasn’t going to mess with my head or anything.
Chloe flung herself next to me on the blanket and sighed. “Why are boys so much drama?”
“Because girls make us crazy,” I quipped. I was literally being driven insane right now.
She adjusted herself so that she was using my thigh as a headrest and Marissa’s stomach as a footrest. “I never thought of Clint as the clingy type, but sheesh.”
“Trouble in paradise?” I asked.
Chole huffed. “If this is paradise, I want a refund.” She and Marissa laughed. I felt like I was missing something. “Let’s not talk about Clint. Instead, we should discuss how I’m going to get my hands on a canoe for the fireworks tonight.”
I didn’t understand what all the fuss was over. Seemed to me like the beach was as good a spot as any. “What’s so great about being on the lake?”
“Well, for one, it gets you way cl
oser because the fireworks are shot off from a boat out in the middle,” Chloe replied. “And the reflection on the water intensifies everything, so it looks like you’re surrounded on all sides.”
“Trust us,” Marissa cut in, her voice purring. “It’s best if you go with a date”—she leveled me with a pointed stare—“but it’s cool regardless of who you’re with.”
Chloe propped herself up on her elbows and looked at Marissa, thankfully missing the insinuation. “How would you guys feel about adding a couple of passengers to your party?”
“Hmm.” Marissa pretended to think. “I might be open to it, if the price was right.”
“How steep are we talking here?”
“All my sweep shifts for the rest of the summer.”
Chloe shot up. “That’s outrageous! I’m not asking to take the dang thing from you, I’m asking to tag along.”
“Fine. I’d settle for you doing my laundry every week from here on out.”
“Deal,” Chloe agreed excitedly, then looked at me.
“I’m not sure I want to go out there bad enough to get stuck doing anyone’s laundry.”
Marissa rolled to her side and slid her sunglasses down her nose. “Sweetie, you can come for free.”
“Ah!” Chloe huffed and whacked Marissa on the leg. “What the heck?”
Marissa shrugged. “He’s cuter than you are.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Who said it had to be? And don’t forget that laundry is my price. I can’t speak for Matt and Shelly.” Marissa was being difficult, specifically to push Chloe’s buttons. It worked brilliantly. She was adorable, even when grumbling unladylike words under her breath.
“Why don’t you just get Clint to sign one out to you?” I asked.
“I tried.” She waved her hand in the direction they were arguing. “That’s what our little spat was about. He said he’d give me one, but I had to share it with him and nobody else.”
“Okaaaay?” I drug out the word. “I’m failing to see the problem here.” She frowned. I’d hurt her feelings again, but I wasn’t sure why.
The Danger With Fireworks (Holiday Romance Book 3) Page 8
