by Kaira Rouda
“Don’t tell Steve that,” she said. “He likes to think it’s his island.”
“I know. He was here last summer, too. But he doesn’t get it. Indigo Island doesn’t belong to him, or the club. It belongs to them. He’ll find out,” Tade said.
“How do you know so much about the people here?” Dorsey asked.
“I have a friend on the backside. She tells me things. Lila met her.” Tade dashed ahead of Dorsey and up the steps to the large porch.
The inn was a replica, a yellow stucco splendor recreated from historic drawings of the original plantation home, once the grandest on the eastern seaboard. Now it was home to an ever-changing horde of tourists like Tade and his parents, who had all begun to look the same to Dorsey since they’d begun arriving throughout the day. White couples. Mid-thirties to late forties, typically from the Midwest or South. Two or three kids, preschool to middle-school aged. They were a type. Mom would play tennis or join Dad at golf. Dorsey didn’t know yet how many kids would get stuck in the Kids Club since only Tade had shown up today.
“I think the inn looks like a house made out of butter,” Tade said, as Dorsey slowly climbed the brick steps to the veranda, a long, covered porch winding around the first floor like a decorative apron. “Like they painted it with melted butter. I think ghosts live here, too.”
“Why would ghosts want to live here? It’s way too hot for them,” Dorsey said, as Tade held one of the huge mahogany doors open for her.
“Ghosts live where it’s not settled. That’s where there’s room,” Tade said, removing his pint-sized sunglasses as the two of them stepped into the air-conditioned lobby.
“This feels good.” Goose bumps covered her arms from Tade’s ghost speech. She blamed it on the air conditioning. “You just don’t realize how hot it is until you come in here, into the air conditioning. Can you imagine before AC? So how long will your parents be gone today?”
“Who cares? All they like is golf, golf, golf,” Tade said and dragged the toes of his well-worn tennis shoes across the hardwood floor as he followed Dorsey to the front desk. “I’d rather just hang out with you anyway.”
She smiled. She liked her first camper.
“You two are supposed to be at the Kids Cottage,” said Shane Peters from behind the front desk. He was the resort’s concierge. Dorsey had never seen him smile and he seemed to have a strong dislike for children.
“We’re just on a little field trip, Shane,” Dorsey said. “We’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
Shane hrumphed and walked away from them, across the lobby to his concierge desk. The coast was clear and Dorsey was about to grab two apples from the bowl on the desk when Paula Ganz appeared behind the front desk.
Paula had been on Indigo Island forever, Dorsey had heard, but still her skin was as pale as paper. She wore reading glasses that gave her the look of a librarian. A terse librarian. Dorsey had yet to see her smile, either.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“Yep. I am. Meet Tade,” Dorsey said.
“I know Tade. Son, try not to sneak out of the Kids Club so often this season,” Paula said, a stern look crossing her face. “Lila lost several stars because of you.”
Dorsey looked over at Tade, and Tade beamed a smile back at her like a little angel. She’d talk to him later about that. She needed to keep any stars she earned.
“Can we have a couple apples for the road?” Dorsey asked, trying to look sweet. “I’m injured.” The freckles her mother warned her would return with sun exposure had done just that, adding a certain Raggedy Ann air to her overall appearance.
“One. For the guest. As you know, they have a bunch on sale at the general store—twenty-three, to be exact, if you need more,” Paula said, then turned her attention back to the computer screen in front of her. Dorsey knew what she was doing, they’d heard all about it at orientation. Since her promotion to assistant food and beverage manager, Paula didn’t make a move without checking the computer. She knew how many apples were consumed each day, which were eaten by guests, which were eaten by employees, and even which were devoured by the horses at the stables. During the morning staff meetings, everyone winced when Paula stood to give her report. Persnickety and detail-oriented, Dorsey’s opposite.
Dorsey grabbed two of the shiny red apples and shoved them in the pocket attached to her right crutch before making her way toward the back doors of the inn, Tade following close behind, laughing. When Tade’s parents picked him up at four, Dorsey felt they’d already formed a close bond.
The telephone rang in the Kids Cottage just as she was locking up. It was Steve, summoning her to his office. Dorsey wondered if he’d spotted her taking two apples, somehow, or if he knew she had a crush on Jack, or if it had something to do with the pool incident.
Dorsey slowly climbed the winding Gone with the Wind staircase of the inn to the second floor where his office was located, taking her time with the crutches, and when she finally reached the top she realized Steve had been watching her, arms crossed, at the top of the stairs. Steve wore a cardigan sweater, reminding Dorsey of a mean Mr. Rogers. He smelled like the bad cologne he seemed to drench himself in daily.
She followed Steve slowly as they walked past his assistant’s desk until they were standing inside his spacious office with grand ocean views. His large mahogany desktop was empty, except for a closed laptop computer. Dorsey wondered if maybe Steve didn’t have enough to do.
“Do you know why I love it here?” Steve asked.
“You have a great office and a really tidy desk?” Dorsey said.
“Cute, you’re a funny one. No, it’s because I can control everything here. It’s a small resort, manageable. I like that. That control. We must always give the impression that everything is OK, even when it is not.”
“OK,” Dorsey said, dropping into one of the matching brown leather chairs facing his imposing desk.
Steve didn’t sit. Instead, he paced back and forth behind his desk. “I’m referring of course to the near drowning. We will not speak of that to anyone, especially the guests and the summer staff. Am I clear?”
“Um, Steve, the summer staff saw what happened. The pool hut attendees and at least five guests were all witnesses,” she said. He had his air conditioning turned to icebox setting and Dorsey was getting the chills. She hugged herself.
“Ms. Pittman. The rest of the staff has been spoken to already, and will proceed as if this unfortunate event never happened. The child was checked out and released from the hospital and is headed home. Nothing happened. Am I clear?” he asked, leaning forward, both of his small hands on his desk. He’d never appeared more tortoise-like and Dorsey stifled a giggle, despite the edge in his voice.
“Sure, yes, got it. But shouldn’t Jack get a star or an award or something? He saved a life,” she said, gathering her crutches so she could make an escape, her stomach tightening as she mentioned his name.
“Jack was merely doing his job. Stars are for going above and beyond. Remember, Dorsey,” Steve said, finishing his lecture. “Nothing bad ever happens at a Top Club resort. Now go out there and have a great Top Club evening.”
Chapter 6
Jack
Rebecca confronted him as he was closing up the pool.
“We need to talk,” she said, hands on hips, full lips shiny with the sticky gloss Jack remembered from last summer. Why had he been such an idiot? He could sense she was trouble the first time they talked. After Lila left abruptly last summer, he’d been horny and lonely. Rebecca had been willing and waiting for his attention, as easy as grabbing an apple from the front desk. Maybe easier. Just because it was easy, didn’t make it right, and he had been sorry he’d ever started anything.
“How was junior year?” Jack asked, attempting polite banter, trying not to clench his jaw and reveal his distaste. He was straightening the lounge chairs, putting them back into the perfect rows the guests would then move and demolish tomorrow. The busy wor
k kept his mind off the near-drowning of this morning, and at the moment, kept him away from Rebecca.
“Fine. I studied abroad second semester. Paris. It was amazing. I messaged you a couple of times, thought I could pay for you to come over, but you didn’t answer.”
“Look, Rebecca, I told you this last summer. We’re over. It was fun. You’re a great girl, but we’re through. I’m in management now, I can’t date summer staff,” Jack said, gathering up a big pile of used pool towels and heading toward the pool hut.
“Can’t you stop and talk to me like an adult?”
“Sorry, I’ve had a long day. We don’t have anything else to talk about, OK? There’s nothing here.” Jack tossed the towels into the laundry hamper and locked the pool hut door. When he turned around, she was gone.
Good riddance, he thought, and headed to the inn.
Jack saw Dorsey standing at the top of the grand staircase and stopped in his tracks. She was so gorgeous, so natural, the opposite of Rebecca with all of her makeup and entitlement oozing through. He knew Rebecca only wanted him because she couldn’t have him. He knew nobody had told her no before, just like most of the spoiled rich girls working on the summer staff. Dorsey was different. He could sense a deep hole in her heart and a kindness that he wanted to protect. Just seeing her made him smile. He had been cutting through the inn on his way to hit some golf balls on the driving range. He realized she was about to try sliding down the banister, and he watched as she swung her injured foot over the smooth wood of the rail. She’d get in big trouble, he thought, almost laughing out loud at her spunk, but realizing Paula or Shane would not.
“Dorsey, what are you doing?” he asked, dashing up the stairs. “Let me help you.”
“Ah, nothing,” she answered, blushing as always, and pulling her leg down. “Just finished being scolded by Steve. I’m sick of these crutches so I was going to try sliding down.”
“Not your best idea,” he said, picking her up in his arms. She felt so good, so small but strong in her own way. He didn’t want to let her go. Holding her he felt a surge of electricity shoot through his body and into his heart.
“I’m so sorry I slept through the bonfire,” Dorsey whispered. Her breath smelled like mint and her hair smelled like sea air. Her skin was beginning to tan and her freckles seemed to be growing in number.
“Just so you know, I came by at seven and saw you asleep on your couch and knew that was for the best. Tonight I’m stuck in an administrative meeting. I should be out of here before ten. Can I come by?”
“Please,” Dorsey whispered back. She had a beautiful smile, white teeth and the reddest lips, just begging to be kissed. And her crazy hair was beautiful. It took everything in his power to not keep her in his arms and stroll out the door into the sunset. What was wrong with him?
He shook his head, and settled her on the ground. He ran back up the steps, grabbed her crutches and came back to help her get her footing. Each time he touched her, heat rushed through him, he realized. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel this way ever, not with anyone, not since the accident. This was crazy, he thought. This wasn’t just lust, it was something more, something deeper.
“Thanks for the lift,” Dorsey said, and she was blushing again. “I’m usually not this helpless. Promise.” Jack laughed. Almost since they’d met she’d needed his help. The strange thing was he didn’t mind at all.
“Do you need help getting back somewhere?” he asked. Her cheeks were incredibly pink. Jack had to resist the urge to kiss her, right then, right there.
“I still have a cart to use until I heal. Thanks again. See you tonight,” Dorsey said as she turned and headed toward the front door of the inn.
Jack smiled a genuine smile as he watched her walk away. He couldn’t believe the effect she had on him. He sighed and looked up the stairs, and saw Steve staring down at him. Had Steve seen him carrying Dorsey?
“What are you doing, Jack?” Steve asked, descending the stairs, wearing his ridiculous cardigan sweater. Jack realized Steve pictured himself as some type of Southern gentleman. In complete control of his plantation. The man was a freak. Jack took a deep breath.
“Going to hit some balls before the meeting,” Jack said, keeping all emotion out of his voice.
“I keep seeing you and the new girl together, why is that?” Steve said, licking his lips like a lizard.
“I have no idea,” Jack said, adding under his breath, “maybe you should find something else to do?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Jack said and turned and walked away.
He could feel Steve’s eyes on him as he passed by the front desk, grabbed an apple and headed out the front doors. Outside the air was thick and hot as usual, suffocating, and it felt even more so given he was dressed for golf not half-naked for lifeguarding. He’d hit a few balls at the driving range, catch up with his buddy, Tom, who was an assistant pro. Get his mind off Dorsey and back on the game. He was here to get promoted, to get ahead and that was what he intended to do. He couldn’t afford to let a strawberry blonde beauty ruin all of that, no matter how much he wanted her. His mom was depending on him. He couldn’t give Steve a reason to fire him.
He crossed the wooden bridge that connected the inn to the golf clubhouse. As he walked he stared down into the dark murky water and wondered if he should even go over to Dorsey’s cottage after work. Sure, he convinced himself, they could be friends. She was new and seemed lonely. And she was always getting into trouble it seemed. Of course he’d show up. That was the gentlemanly thing to do. And Jack was a gentleman, despite his reputation with the summer staff. That was his past.
Chapter 7
Dorsey
Dorsey awoke to a tap-tap on her window. She rolled over on her bed and saw the silhouette of Jack’s face pressed against the windowpane, the evening breeze blowing his thick hair. She smiled, wondering how long she’d been asleep as she watched him push the window open, and silently climb inside, a big grin on his face. She loved the dimples framing his perfect smile. His dark brown eyes sparkled as he hopped down from the windowsill and closed the window behind him. She wondered how many times he’d made a similar entrance to another woman’s cottage, but tried to push the thought away.
“Hey, sorry I’m so late. How’s your foot?” he asked, touching the top of her foot tenderly, sending a bolt of electricity through her body.
“It’s getting better, thanks,” she said. She felt shy, and wrapped her arms around herself. She wore her favorite jeans and a comfortable light green t-shirt and she’d even managed to tame her hair a bit for him. She’d dreamed of this moment, but now that he was here with her she was nervous and hurried to sit up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out and placing a firm hand on her shoulder, calming her, grounding her. He smelled like sea breeze and fresh cut grass from the golf course. She felt his breath on her hair. And his touch made her stomach flip.
“Nothing, it’s... I’m...well, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a man in my bedroom,” she said.
“Hey, I’m just here to get to know you. We could go for a walk, but your foot?” Jack said.
“No, this is great,” she said, resisting the urge to touch his leg so close to her own. Just the thought of it sent electricity ripping through her again, reaching deep inside, filling her with longing. They stared into each other’s eyes and Dorsey’s breathing grew shallow. She broke eye contact, looking down at the floor. She felt the bed dip as he sat down beside her.
“So, uh, Jack, tell me about yourself,” she said.
“Well, I like pina coladas and I’d love to get caught in the rain,” he said, dimples appearing with his white smile. “Seriously, though, I’m the only son of a single mom, who worked really hard to get me here, helped me pay for college, and so I can’t mess up this chance. But you really make me want to take the risk.”
Dorsey felt her cheeks turn red. “Well, no. That’s why we need to, um, you know just be li
ke this,” she said, indicating the space between them on the bed. “I understand, I do. Tell me more.”
“You’re right, I got ahead of myself, it’s just you, well, you have that effect on me. I’m from Orlando, Florida. Only surviving child of Patricia Means. My little brother, Bobby, died when he was twelve, and my mom never got over it.”
Dorsey watched as Jack’s hands kneaded the side of the bed as he spoke about his brother, watched the light drain from his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Thanks, it was a tough time. Guess it still is,” he said. “Anyway, after high school I went to UFC and majored in hospitality. I’m going to be a hotel tycoon. I’m going to run this club someday. I love this island; I’ve been working here for years.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, smiling. The light had come back into his eyes and he seemed to relax a bit. Finally, he turned toward her.
“Sorry, but I think you’re incredibly hot, I feel this overwhelming need to protect you. I’m drawn to you. God, I don’t even know if the feeling is mutual.” Jack shook his head, as if to clear a thought.
“It’s, yes, it is,” she managed to say, leaning back against the headboard.
She heard him release a breath. They sat in silence, both lost in thought. About what couldn’t be, she supposed. It was sad, but it was apropos of her life.
“Well, OK. Tell me something about you,” he said, finally.
“I’m an only child, too, and my mom is single now. She’s glad I’m here, moving on, so I guess we have similar stories, in a way,” she said, knowing their stories could never be the same. His could never be as horrific, although his brother had died.
“I guess so, although I doubt it,” he said. “My younger brother drowned. I’ve always felt like it was my fault, because I didn’t save him. That’s why today hit me so hard, I suppose. That boy looked just like Bobby.” Dorsey watched as he grabbed the edge of her bedspread again, gripping it tightly with both hands, kneading the soft cotton in his fingers.
