Summer Nights

by Sanders, Jill

  She took the two lunches with her and made her way slowly toward the docks. She was almost ten minutes early but figured she could use a few moments to herself. She sat on a bench overlooking the water.

  She was having a hard time opening fully to Dylan. She knew that in the past, she’d struggled with people like her father and Bridgette, and now Ryan had taken on that role. They were the sort who enjoyed and used the power they held over others. That was something that Zoey despised the most.

  At first, knowing that Dylan had money had had her thinking that this was a possibility with him, but then she’d caught him helping an older man down the stairs near the pool, and she’d watched from afar how patient and kind he was with the guests.

  Then, she’d watched him closely around the camp guests, since he’d helped her out with a few volleyball matches.

  She’d enjoyed watching him interact with the guests and his enjoyment at being the referee for the “bubble soccer” match he’d organized a few days back. Seeing the guests run like hamsters in the massive transparent inflatable bubbles while trying to kick the soccer ball had been one of the best days of her life. Seeing Dylan laugh and joke as the guests bounced around the field had given her a deeper insight into the man.

  “Harry, you’re a cheat,” Dylan had joked with one older man. The fact that he knew all the guests by name impressed her. “Is that how you convinced Pam to marry you?”

  The older man had laughed and joked back with Dylan like they were old friends.

  “No, it was my big . . . smile”—the man had winked—“that convinced her I was the man for her.”

  “More like your big wallet,” someone else had joked. After almost a full week of watching Dylan, she had only seen a kind, caring man who loved to be outdoors.

  “Everything all right there, missy?” an older black man asked her, breaking into her thoughts. He was walking by on the trail, smoking a thick, rich-smelling cigar.

  “Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him. He moved over and settled down next to her on the bench.

  “Meeting someone?” he asked, looking at the lunches sitting beside her.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “How about you?”

  “No, taking a stroll, just a moment to myself. After almost thirty years of marriage, I live for these times.” He took another drag from his cigar. “I’m Chuck Vogel. You’re one of the ladies that runs this camp, right?”

  “Zoey,” she offered up.

  “Your sister’s the one that showed us around the first day.”

  “Scarlett.” She nodded. “How are you enjoying your stay?”

  “Oh, just fine. My wife, Tina, loves this place,” he added.

  “How about you?” she asked, hearing the hint of longing in his voice.

  “Oh, it’s fine. I was just hoping to get out on the water for some fishing.” He peered out toward the water.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “I could easily arrange for someone to take you out.”

  “Would you? It’s not on the approved list of activities.”

  “It’s more of a suggested list than an approved one.” She touched the man’s hand.

  “Chuck, are you stealing my woman?” Dylan’s voice sounded from behind them.

  Chuck laughed. “Hell, no, she’s too bony for my liking,” he said with a wink. “I’ll let you two enjoy your lunch.” He got up, grinding his cigar in his teeth.

  “I’ll have the front desk contact you to set up that fishing trip,” she said.

  “Sounds good—I know a few others that might want to tag along.”

  “I’ll add it to the list of suggested activities.”

  Chuck laughed and waved. “You do that. Have a good day.”

  “Nice man.” Dylan sat next to her. “What did you bring us for lunch? I’m starving.”

  “Didn’t you eat breakfast?” she asked, then quickly realized she hadn’t had time to eat anything more than a granola bar.

  “I had an apple and a soda,” he said as she handed him his bag. “Woohoo.” He opened a small container of chicken parmesan. He pulled out a plastic fork and started in on his lunch. “What did Isaac make for you?” he asked, nudging her.

  She opened her container to show him her favorite, tomato pasta salad. “Isaac is worth every penny we pay him.” She took a bite and sighed.

  “He packed me a brownie.” Dylan pulled out the foil packet.

  She looked into her bag and removed a large cookie.

  “You should give him a raise,” Dylan said through a full mouth.

  “You’re just saying that because you were hungry,” she said.

  “I’m saying that because he knows and remembers everyone’s favorite foods.”

  “True,” she agreed. “Scar was telling me that while we were gone, he made a special dinner for a guest who was celebrating her birthday—he actually called the woman’s mother to get the recipe of her favorite meal, then made it for her.”

  “Pure genius.” He waved with his fork. “It must have cost a lot to get him for the camp.”

  “It was all Hannah’s doing,” she admitted. “She pulled strings and got Isaac.” She finished off her food, unwrapped the cookie, and took a bite.

  Dylan had already finished his brownie.

  “You must have had a decent chunk of money to start this place back up?” he said while looking out over the water. His tone was casual, but the question had something tensing in Zoey. Was he still trying to be sneaky and ask her about the camp’s finances? They hadn’t talked about it before, but several alarms went off in her mind as memories of him hinting at the cost of things surfaced.

  She was about to ask him when she heard a noise and glanced up.

  She had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. There, a few feet away from them, a squirrel was hobbling across the grass, a full slice of ham-and-pineapple pizza in its mouth. The squirrel stopped for a brief moment, looked over at them, wagged its tail frantically, then continued on to disappear into the brush.

  “Did you just . . .” Dylan motioned to the space.

  “Squirrel. Pizza.” She nodded.

  “The animals around here are strange.” He chuckled.

  Then she laughed. “We’ll call him Hamlet.” They joked about other animal names, some of which included Crusty, Mozzarella, and her favorite, Slice. Her worries about him questioning her faded to the back of her mind as they finished their desserts.

  Wiping the laughter tears from her eyes, she took a sip of her water and realized that he’d sobered.

  “What?” she asked, instantly thinking he’d continue his line of questioning about the camp’s finances. “What’s on your mind?”

  He turned to her. “Remember me telling you about my father?”

  She nodded and relaxed a little.

  “Well, he’s off . . . on one of his . . . adventures. At least that’s what we always called them. The times when he would disappear for months at a time.”

  “You’re worried about him?” she asked, genuinely concerned, since she could see the worry in his eyes.

  “Yeah, we all are; this time it’s different.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  He sighed and put his water bottle aside. “Almost half a year.”

  “What?” She set the empty container and bottle on the bench next to her. “With no word from him?”

  He shook his head. “The last we heard”—he turned toward her—“he was driving down here for a meeting.”

  “With whom?” she asked.

  His eyes met hers. “Elle Saunders.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dylan waited and watched Zoey’s brow furrow the moment his words sank in. Then she slowly stood up.

  “Your father . . . had a meeting with Elle?” she asked. He stood up and followed her as she walked over to the edge of the water. “My Elle?”

  “Yes. It was on his calendar.” He stopped with a hand on the railing of the dock.

  �
��Why?” She looked back at him and shook her head. “Why would he have a meeting with my Elle?”

  He shrugged. “We were hoping to find out.”

  Suddenly, her eyes grew huge. “That’s what you’re doing here. Spying on Elle. You think she’ll lead you to your father?”

  He sighed and took her arm. He’d been debating telling her ever since their first kiss had rocked his world. He hated keeping secrets from someone whom he was slowly growing very fond of. Besides, he trusted Zoey and believed she really didn’t know anything about his missing dad or the money.

  “What do you think Elle did? Murdered him and fed him to the gators?” She jerked her arm away.

  “No.” He frowned. “We think our dad is in hiding somewhere, enjoying himself too much to be bothered with contacting his worried kids. Calm down.” He gripped her shoulders until she turned and looked up at him. “If we thought he was in danger, there would be cops crawling all over this place.”

  She relaxed slightly. “Why would he have an appointment with Elle?”

  “We assumed it was to invest in this place.” He nodded around.

  Zoey frowned at him. “We had a few silent partner requests. But Elle decided to turn them all down.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded, but he noticed it was a slow, unsure movement.

  He pulled out his phone and flipped open a picture of his family. “Have you seen this man?”

  The photo was of the four of them the last time they were together. The sun was setting on the Destin beach. They had their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders.

  “No, I haven’t seen him.” Her voice was low, and she looked out to the water. “I . . . have to go soon. I have a tennis lesson I have to teach.” She walked over and tossed her trash into the waste bin.

  “Zoey.” He stopped her from leaving by taking her hand. “Can I see you tonight?”

  Her eyes met his as she shook her head. “I have a sunset sail I’m helping out on. I need time to think about . . . things . . . I have to go.” She turned and rushed down the pathway.

  He stood there and watched her disappear toward the river instead of on the path that would take her to the tennis courts.

  Tossing his trash away too, he started to make his way toward the zip line hut. He had a full schedule for the rest of the afternoon, and all he could think about was Zoey.

  He was so preoccupied with running through what had just happened that he didn’t see Ryan until it was too late.

  “Dylan,” she purred as she approached him. She was wearing the standard dining room work uniform, which consisted of a black button-up shirt, black slacks, and low black heels. “I was hoping I’d run into you. I heard you had yourself a little . . . trip”—her head tilted—“with Zoey.”

  “I took her to deal with her father’s death.” He started to move past her, but she grabbed his arm.

  “Do you think I’m playing around?” Her voice sharpened, causing him to give her his full attention.

  “No, Ryan, this isn’t a game,” he said.

  “Good.” A slow smile crept across her face, and suddenly he was reminded of the Grinch. She pressed her body next to his as she played with the collar of his shirt. “Since you’re so keen on leaving, I thought we’d head out on that private jet of yours soon, maybe hit Paris.” She sighed heavily, her breath falling over his face, and he thought he smelled a faint trace of vodka. “Then Milan; I’ve always wanted to go.” She giggled as she scraped a finger along his chin, and he held in a cringe. “But for now, I think we should meet later so that we can discuss our . . . future.” She brushed her lips across his chin, since he’d pulled his face farther away from hers.

  He gripped her wrist and pulled it away so that she wouldn’t leave a mark on him. “I can’t. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  He wished he could stop stalling her and tell her where to go. After all, hadn’t he pretty much come clean with Zoey? Zoey would certainly talk to Elle and the others. Which meant that Ryan didn’t really have any leverage. But until he talked to his brothers again, he had to keep stalling.

  “That’s okay. I work until midnight too.” She glanced down at his hand, holding her at bay. “How about after?”

  He shook his head and said the first excuse that crossed his mind. “I’m helping out on a sunset sail. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Then I have an early morning . . .” He chose to leave it there, since the art of lying was to leave everything vague. Besides, he had thought about seeing if he could sneak in on the sail to be with Zoey: to have a chance to talk to her again and smooth things out.

  She sighed and tried to move closer, but he still had ahold of her wrist and repelled her. When her lips formed a moue, he dropped her hand and stepped back.

  “I have to go.”

  “Dylan”—she stopped him as his name echoed in the trees around them—“I won’t be ignored.” The last tapered off into a soft whisper as he continued to walk away from her.

  Damn, he thought. Now his mind was full of how to deal with Ryan as well.

  He tried to keep his mind focused as he flew through the trees on the zip line with the group of guests, but how Zoey had reacted to him over lunch kept resurfacing. Not to mention the threat of what Ryan might do.

  On the last run of the day, he was surprised to see Kimberly in the group. He walked over to her and said, “I didn’t know you were going to grace me with your presence today.” He smiled at the older woman.

  Kimberly beamed up at him. “I wasn’t, until I had a . . . shall we call it disturbing . . . visit from my daughter around lunchtime.” She touched his arm. “Can you fit me into the last run of the day?”

  “For you, anything.” He waved her into the group and started to go through all the standard safety procedures.

  As the group set off, Kimberly held back until it was just the two of them in the first tower.

  “I like you,” she said, surprising him.

  “Thanks—I like you too.” His stomach had been roiling at the thought of what the woman was wanting to talk to him about.

  “We all have our secrets.” Her eyes assessed him as she tilted her head. He waited, holding his breath. “Zoey told me a little about yours. I want my daughters to be happy, both of them. You and your brothers . . . have a mission, and I understand that your father is important to you, and that’s wonderful. But if you mess with my daughter . . .” She locked her harness carabiner into the line, then smiled over at him as she pushed off. “I’ll mess with you.”

  He chuckled and called after her, “If I wasn’t afraid of your family before, I am now.”

  He heard her laughter as she sailed through the air toward the next tower.

  After that talk, the mood lightened between them. It was obvious that Kimberly seemed to be really enjoying zip-lining. He told her that the next time she came by, she could advance to the expert run.

  She was happy at that news and told him that she’d schedule it for later that week. He was looking forward to seeing her again.

  After Kimberly shed her harness with the rest of the group, and as he was cleaning up for the night, she stopped to chat with him again before heading out.

  “You know, at my age—”

  “What are you?” he broke in. “Thirty?”

  “Don’t interrupt.” She patted his cheek. “I have a lot of regrets. I wouldn’t change a thing in my past that would hinder me having my girls, but there’s plenty I would change after. I stayed with a man who didn’t love me. One who was spineless and selfish and wouldn’t fight for me.” Her lips turned down into a frown. “Something tells me you’re not that kind of man.”

  “No, ma’am,” he assured her.

  “You know, it’s a beautiful night for a sail.” She looked toward the horizon, then turned and walked away without another word.

  He must have sat there less than ten seconds before he tossed the rest of the harnesses into the shed and locked it. He’d be
en building up the courage to head to the docks before she’d said something to him. He knew that he’d have to arrive early to finish cleaning up the mess in the morning, but he didn’t care. His only thought was of being with Zoey and getting a chance to talk to her.

  He arrived just as the last of the guests were climbing aboard the largest of the two sailboats docked by the boathouse.

  Zoey was helping a couple onto the boat and stilled when she noticed him walking toward her.

  She was wearing a pair of white shorts with the teal camp shirt, and her dark hair hung in a long braid down her back. She looked like she belonged in an ad for sailing.

  “Hi. Is there room for one more helper?” he asked one of the mates, avoiding Zoey’s gaze.

  “Sure.” The man smiled and shook his hand, then stood back and motioned for him to release the line from the dock.

  When he stepped onto the deck of the boat, Zoey narrowed her eyes at him and whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “Taking an evening sail.” He smiled. “It’s a perfect night for it. Don’t you think?”

  She sighed and moved to help the staff as the boat made its way out of the slip.

  “You can pour the wine and hand out the beer.” Zoey motioned toward the cabin. “Everything you need is down there.” She had turned to pull on a few ropes when Damion called out to her.

  He’d never really gotten into sailing, and if he’d been honest with himself before he’d jumped, he would have questioned his sanity for working for his first sail.

  Sure, he’d been in plenty of boats, but they had usually been speedboats, where he had been driven through the waters.

  As the sailboat slowly made its way out of the small mouth of the river and into the bay, he tried pouring wine into glasses, spilling more than he’d like to admit. He handed out cold beer to some of the men, all while trying to keep his balance and not fall overboard. Only a very low railing of a single rope was keeping him on the sailboat, which had him watching his step and holding on to anything he could to keep from falling out. It wouldn’t do his ego any good if he had to be rescued in front of Zoey.

  He knew that he needed to fill in his brothers on what had been going on, but at the moment, his only thoughts were to smooth things out with Zoey. He hated seeing the worry in her eyes as she worked around the sailboat. All he wanted to do was soothe her and assure her that he hadn’t thought she had anything to do with his father.