The Lunam Legacy (The Lunam Series Book 3)

by Nicole Loufas

  “That sounds romantic.” His tone doesn’t seem to agree. “And you have always lived in Meyers?”

  “Yep. Just a small-town girl.”

  “Living in a lonely world.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “What do your parents do for a living?”

  “You ask a lot of questions. Are you writing a book?”

  “Maybe I just want to know your story.”

  I’d like to give you more than my story. “Why don’t you answer some of my questions for a change? Like what’s your last name?”

  Before he answers, Justin and three other boys drop a kayak into the water upside down.

  “I gotta go help my boys. They aren’t as seaworthy as the girls.” He stands with a smirk, one that says, I have a secret, and I dare you to find out what it is.

  Challenge accepted.

  He jogs to the dock, where his campers are sword-fighting with their oars. If someone asked Michelangelo to sculpt the perfect man, Jay would be his muse. The way he stands—poised and confident like a roman statue—he’s sculpture worthy.

  “Drool much?” Trevor falls on the empty towel beside me.

  “Like you weren’t.” I give him a sweaty hug. “Where have you been?”

  “After I got back from Seattle, I had to stay in the city a few extra days to see the doc for another checkup.” He’s allowed to spend two weeks a year with his mother’s family in Washington. “Then Mom’s car broke down. Forces of evil were keeping me away.” He shifts his attention back to the lake. “I can see why you wanted first dibs.” He purrs like a cat.

  “He’s like an ice cream cone. I just want to lick him.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with uptight Abbi?”

  “I think he’s the one.”

  “Of course he is, look at him standing there, all sweat and skin.” He fans himself. “This is your last chance to fulfill your life-long dream of getting your name on the wall.”

  “Like you don’t want the same thing.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  I look at Trev. “With who?”

  “Mari St. George, last year. Not my proudest moment.”

  “Mari is a girl.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “But I….”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, you’re…?”

  “It’s cute how clueless you are.” He picks up the sunblock and rubs some on his arms.

  “I assumed you thought girls were gross.”

  “I love who I love. Who knows what the universe has planned for me? I could end up in love with Raine.” He makes a gagging sound.

  Ozzy was the first to bring a girl to the factory, and the first name on the wall. It started as a joke, then it became a competition. Having your name scrawled over that musty bed makes you a legend. I’ve had opportunities, but none of them felt right. The Jays of the world typically go for Raine. Not this time. Not this year.

  “And what does Miss Raine-in-the-ass have to say about you finally burning your V-card? I’m surprised she didn’t jump on the Jay-train before you.”

  “She tried.”

  “You mean that sex titan chose you over sure-thing-Raine?” Trevor gives me a high-five. “Good for you, Abbi.”

  My ego takes a bow. Raine is my best friend, but I tell all my secrets to Trevor. He’s less competitive.

  “I think Raine is brooding over Ozzy.” It would explain why she let Jay go without a fight. Not that we’d fight.

  “His absence is worth a moment of silence.” Trevor crosses himself in some ancient religious symbolism. Like I said, everyone was in love with Ozzy.

  “Why did you have to see the doctor? We’re not due for another checkup until after our birthdays.”

  “Dr. Wyatt said there was a problem with my bloodwork last quarter. I’m not sick or anything. He just needed more blood.”

  “Don’t they always?”

  We’re always giving blood, doing tests, eating vitamins. There was a time when Trevor and a few other kids stopped taking them. That’s when the quarterly check-ups began. Now we see Dr. Wyatt every three months in sickness or in health.

  Jay gets his last camper into a kayak, then straps on a life vest and picks up a windsurfing board.

  “Yes, please,” Trevor mumbles as Jay walks into the lake and climbs onto the board. He uphauls the rig out of the water, his arm muscles glistening in the sun. It doesn’t take long for him to catch the wind and take off across the water. His boys paddle after him, trying to keep up.

  “Where is holy hotness from? Tahoe?”

  “Oregon.”

  “An outsider! I love it. What do we know about him?”

  “He moved a lot as a kid. He has a grandmother in Oregon. He smells good.”

  “Oh please,” Trevor huffs. “Rusty digs deep before allowing anyone to step foot into camp. I’m sure he’s just as boring as the rest of us. Boring with a nice ass.”

  Trevor is right. If anyone knows Jay’s story, it’s my uncle Rusty. “Do you still have access to the office?” Trevor swiped a key two summers ago. Sometimes we sneak in at night to watch videos on YouTube.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you feel like putting your stalker skills to work?”

  Trevor sees the lightbulb above my head and jumps up.

  “Girl, I’m already on it.” He runs up the beach toward the main building. Trevor doesn’t have campers this year, he’s assisting staff and filling in where needed. I need him now.

  Chapter Eight

  Jay’s tattooed arms shimmer in the afternoon sun as he glides across the water. I count the minutes until we can be alone. Our time at camp is limited, and the majority of it will be spent babysitting moody tweens.

  Watching Jay windsurf is the highlight of my day. My girls are lined up on the dock beside me. Eventually, everyone made their way back to shore to watch the Jay-show.

  When the alarm on my watch rings, we return to reality.

  “That’s ninety minutes of my life I’ll never get back.” Suzy is the first to remove her life vest.

  “I promise to make it up to you tomorrow,” I say. “We’ll do something really fun.”

  “Forget her.” Sarah flicks a wrist at Suzy. “I can watch him all day.”

  The other girls gush and giggle as Jay helps the boys drag their kayaks to shore. When he looks our way, Sarah waves and jumps up and down.

  “He’s so hot!” She fans herself.

  “Your lady boner is showing.” Leslie teases. “Just go tell him you want his body.”

  “Counselors aren’t allowed to hook up with campers. I don’t want to get him fired,” Sarah snaps. She truly believes Jay would reciprocate her feelings. Her confidence is admirable.

  “Drop your vests in the bin, then you guys can go to lunch.” I push Sarah forward.

  The girls take the long way to the equipment area so they can get one last look at Jay. His boys ditch their gear and follow the girls up the beach to camp.

  “You have no authority over your campers.” I hold up a paddle. “They should’ve put these away before you dismissed them.”

  “I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “They’re on vacation.”

  I collect an armful of paddles and toss them into the shed.

  Jay returns to the shed and places a dozen more on top of the pile “You want to have lunch together?

  “Yeah. I usually sit at the corner table near the salad bar.” The shed is outrageously hot. When Jay steps inside, the heat rises to an unholy level.

  “I meant as in just you and me, not with the rest of camp.”

  It’s petty, but I wish Raine was here to witness what it sounds like when a guy asks me to lunch. “Sounds good. We can eat on the dock.” I stare at the sweat beads and lake water dripping off his chin. “Meet you back here in ten?”

  Jay closes the distance between us. “Can you make it in five?” He does that thing again with the tips of our fingers.

  “Five won�
��t be a problem.”

  Jay finishes putting away the kayaks and I head back to camp central. I scan the circus tent for Raine or Trevor. The large white awning provides much needed shade for the outdoor dining area. Climate control units keep the space cool during the day and warm at night. Raine is usually planted in the tent during lunch to escape the heat. Not today. I go to the counselor’s pantry and grab two bottles of soda. A perk of being a counselor is having junk food. The shelf where the vitamins are kept is stocked full. I grab a bottle and dump a vitamin in my palm. The little act of obedience makes me feel better about my secret lunch date with Jay.

  As I go out the side door, I see my grandfather’s silver Mercedes sparkling in the parking lot. This is the perfect opportunity to plead my case with him about moving to the city. Monte Tallac has a distinctive voice. I hear it coming from Rusty’s office.

  “Who is the new counselor? I’d like to meet him.”

  “He’s just a kid from Oregon. I vetted him like all the others.” Rusty is annoyed. “You don’t need to micromanage me, Dad. I’ve been running this camp for fifteen years.”

  “I wouldn’t allow you to run the place if I didn’t trust your judgment.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Rusty deadpans. “How did you find out about him? Ozzy isn’t here to spy for you.”

  “Rory told his father.”

  “How is Drake? I haven’t seen him since last Christmas. Where is Leah hiding him?”

  “He’s working with me in the city.”

  “On your super-secret project?” Rusty isn’t normally this snappy with Monte.

  “This is the best thing for our family, son. You understand why we’re doing this don’t you?”

  “I do. It just doesn’t sit well.” Rusty lowers his voice. “They should be allowed to make their own choices.”

  “The right to choose isn’t always the best choice.” Monte’s philosophy is old school. I love him, but he can be a tyrant.

  I don’t want to get caught eavesdropping, so I knock as I open the door. “Grandpa?”

  Monte rises from a chair and opens his arms. “There’s my girl.” He’s always been larger than life to me. Nothing has changed. Even though I’m taller and older, he still makes me feel like a little girl. “How’s camp life?”

  “It’s amazing,” I blurt. Dial it down, Abbi. “Same as always.”

  Rusty gives me a look from the other side of the desk. He won’t rat me out about hanging with Jay. If he does, he’s on the hook for hiring him in the first place.

  “Your mom says you want to come to the city for a spell. You know we’d love to have you.”

  “If anyone can convince her to let me go, it’s you and Layla. Can you put in a good word for me?”

  “Of course.” He kisses my forehead.

  “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “Hot day, huh?” He points to the soda bottles I’m holding.

  “Date? Who, me? No. Gotta stay hydrated.”

  “He said day, not date,” Rusty corrects and gives me a get lost look. “Why don’t you return to your campers.”

  Monte laughs at my slip-up. He wouldn’t think it was funny if he knew it was true.

  “Yeah, uh, ha ha. I wish.” I back out of the office. “See you later, Grandpa!” I run as fast as I can to the lake.

  Jay is sitting at the front end of the dock, tying his shoes. He looks past me. “Someone chasing you?”

  “My grandfather—” I stop a few feet away to catch my breath. “He wants to meet you.”

  “Monte Tallac is here?” Jay stands at his full height and looks over my head.

  “He likes to meet all the new counselors.” Monte catching me with Jay—I don’t want to imagine the horror and embarrassment. “I suggest we hide.”

  Jay kind of laughs in total agreement. “Let’s not use the word hide. How about we go for a walk in the woods.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Our feet kick up sand as we hurry across the beach. I look back and see Rusty standing at the end of the road, looking toward the dock.

  “Did I tell you I was a runner?” I tug his arm. “Race you to the old factory.”

  He jogs a few steps, unsure if I’m serious.

  “Jay, run!”

  I sprint toward the perimeter fence, veering left to the opening. I slow just enough to slide through the spot where the links are cut, allowing us access to the off-limits area behind camp. Even though we’re running in fear of being caught, I find myself laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” He runs past, showing off. I don’t mind. I’d rather watch him run than vice versa.

  “This. Us.”

  I jog to keep up with him as he weaves around trees, kicking up dried leaves like a kid on his home from school on a fall day. When the only sounds I hear are leaves crunching under my still damp shoes, we slow to a walk.

  “You’re fast,” he says. “Did you run track?”

  “No,” I huff. “I was homeschooled. Running is just a hobby.”

  “Or an escape.”

  “Exactly.”

  His arm brushes mine. “Damn, I left the sandwiches.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I hand him a shaken-up soda.

  “Thanks.” He twists off the cap and drinks half the bottle. “I thought this wasn’t allowed?” He’s referring to the soda. Camp Tuluka touts itself as being environmentally friendly and free of processed foods.

  “Counselor perk.”

  Jay stops walking. “This was from the counselor pantry?”

  “Yeah.”

  He’s worried, like I poisoned him or something.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re a health nut who lectures normal people on the evils of gluten and high-fructose corn syrup.”

  “Trust me, I’m a fan of gluten and preservatives. Dad is a world-class surfer, but a horrible cook.” He takes another swig. “I didn’t realize we could take what we wanted from there.”

  “It isn’t called the counselor pantry for nothing.”

  Jay screws the top back on his soda. “Cool.”

  We’re deep into the woods, where the sun barely makes it past the heavy canopy. I’m surrounded by earth and flowers, but the only thing I smell is Jay. Mint and sage combined with coconut sunblock. It’s my new favorite smell.

  If I smell him, does that mean he can smell me?

  Is that a good thing?

  Trying to be as discreet as possible, I pretend to rub my chin on my shoulder and sniff. Not as fresh as I’d like but not funky either.

  “Tell me about this old factory,” he says. “What was it used for?”

  My heart pounds when I think of what we use it for. He looks at me as if he can hear it.

  “I’m not sure. It’s always been abandoned. Technically we’re breaking the rules being here. The factory is strictly off-limits.”

  Jay raises a sexy eyebrow. “Breaking rules. I like it.”

  “There it is.” I point to a gray stucco building.

  Jay marvels at a structure planted in the middle of a forest. “Do you know who built it?”

  “Ozzy claims it was an illegal distillery. Raine said it’s haunted. Everyone has a theory.”

  “What do you believe?” He moves ahead of me, walking backward so he can see my face.

  “I never really gave it much thought.” What this building was created for is irrelevant.

  “Do you come here often?” He stops in front of a set of large metal doors.

  “Not with anyone.”

  “So you come alone?”

  “No, I mean I don’t… I’ve never come here with… a guy.” I shuffle along the leaf-covered path to the door. This is my first time bringing a guy here. Although Jay doesn’t realize the significance, I do.

  He takes my hand. “Am I your first?”

  The question is loaded, like a twice-baked potato.

  Sensing my unease, he guesses the answer. He hooks our pinkies. “I’m honored.”

  “This wasn’t planned.
”

  He reaches behind me and slides the metal door open. “The best times are never planned.”

  I step inside first, and he closes the door behind us. It’s so quiet our breathing has an echo.

  He marvels at the large metal cylinders lined up from floor to ceiling. “What’s up there?” Jay starts towards the metal staircase that leads to the loft.

  This is the moment of truth. If I’m serious about having sex with Jay, telling him about the boom-boom room shouldn’t be an issue.

  “Is this the secret clubhouse? Do I need to pass an initiation to get in?”

  “An ounce of blood and your first-born child, no biggie.” I follow him upstairs, acutely aware of what is on the other side of the door. You can do it, Abbi. You want to do this with Jay.

  He hesitates when he reaches the top.

  “What’s wrong?” I look past him at the door. We’re so close.

  He sits on the metal step, pulls me toward him so I’m kneeling between his legs. My heart is pounding, my hands sweating. I don’t feel sexy or wanting. I feel sick.

  “As much as I want to go into the boom-boom room with you, I don’t think this is the right time.”

  “How did you know? Who told you? Have you been here already?” I try to pull back, and he holds on.

  “Of course I haven’t been here. The boys talk.”

  “What boys?”

  “Rory, Landon—hell, even Curtis knows about this place.” He runs a hand down my back and rests it on my waist.

  “Why were you playing dumb when we first got here?”

  “I wasn’t. They told me about the room, not all of this.” He gestures at the factory floor. “And I didn’t want to seem presumptuous. Like you said, coming here wasn’t planned. If it were, if we were going to… have lunch again, I would be prepared.” He’s using facial expressions for the words he isn’t saying. My face tells him I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I would have brought protection.”

  Lightbulb on.

  “Oh, yeah. That.” Kill me now.

  “Yeah, that.”

  “That is like… I wasn’t even thinking about… this wasn’t planned.” I’m like a robot stuck on stupid. “We aren’t even…. Is that even something you’d be interested in? With me?”