Courting Carlyn

by Melissa Chambers

  She pulls away with a grin on her face and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and then lets go.

  “Better than your first kiss with that carpenter guy?” I ask.

  She meets my gaze and then closes in again, her lips almost touching mine. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know after we do this some more…a lot more.” Her lips are back on mine, and I’m just now understanding the amount of potential this summer has to be really freaking fun.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carlyn

  I’m awake, but I don’t dare move a muscle. I may pee my pants if I don’t get up soon, but it’s Saturday morning, and it’s almost time for me to get all these peacefully sleeping campers up and move us into a frenzy of packing, organizing, and locating lost clothes, ponytail holders, brushes, and socks. Before I set off those dominoes, right now, I have Vaughn and me…or at least the memory of us. More specifically, of our first kiss.

  I can’t quit replaying the moment right before it, how he stood so confidently in front of me, like he had everything under control. I couldn’t help but melt into his strong arms, the muscles bulging in his biceps and forearms, especially his right one—his tennis arm. It’s rock solid.

  He was such a tease, keeping our kiss soft and all exterior, making my whole body crazy for him to take it up a notch, but in the best way possible. All these wild sensations swirled around in my chest and stomach as my body tried to process what was happening. I woke up in places I never knew were asleep.

  And he was so respectful. No worries about roaming hands…darn it. He kept them anchored to my hips, only venturing far enough north to reach my waist. Though he kept squeezing and grabbing handfuls of my hoodie when we got a little intense a few times, which made the moment even more acute…geez. His soft, freshly shaven cheeks marked with the distinct scent of masculine shave lotion tickling my sense of smell certainly didn’t help matters. When did I get so primal?

  I’ve kissed a handful of guys, four to be exact. Before Vaughn, I experienced the tongue-lashing of Phil Carpenter; the sweet, wholesome pecks of Huan, my only boyfriend; and then a one-dimensional, circular oscillation with Parker McDonnell that left me dizzy, and not in a good way. But this was an entire new level of showing affection. I felt like a girl getting kissed properly for the first time in her life. Like a kiss virgin. If I had known Vaughn could make me feel like this with his lips all these years, I’d have stepped up my game a lot sooner.

  I’ve lost my mind. I lay here still as a stone, my bladder bursting at the seams just so that I can daydream about my hands-on experience with Vaughn Yarborough a little longer. I’m really getting myself into a jam here.

  …

  Vaughn and I have only seen each other in passing this morning. We both stay busy ushering campers around, talking to the few parents who drove out here to pick up directly, and getting the remainder of them ready for the bus from the center which should be here any minute. We catch each other’s gaze once, and he gives me just enough of a knowing grin to ease my fear that last night was a huge mistake for him. It’s enough to indicate that more kissing is very viably in our future.

  The rec bus finally arrives, and we pack the kids on with hugs and promises of visits soon. I underestimated how tough it would be to say goodbye to the campers at the end of each week. We’ll get a new group Sunday, and I’m sure I’ll fall in love with them just like I have this group. We wave the bus off and turn to face each other, both breaking out into simultaneous grins.

  He waves a finger around the perimeter. “Did that just happen?”

  “If you’re referring to us pulling off our first week of camp, then yes, my friend, it happened.” I flex each of my biceps muscles and kiss them in victory.

  We sort of look at each other, this energy between us like we really want to go in for a huge hug, but we need to be careful. Fred and Nancy are milling around outside.

  I clear my throat. “So, when can I cash in on those lessons?”

  “You want to play tennis?” he asks, sounding a little incredulous.

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah. You offered help, didn’t you?”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “Did you have something else in mind?” I ask.

  He glances around, his gaze meeting Fred’s, who’s pulling a weed out of his flowerbed. “Well, yeah, but…I guess tennis is a safer option.”

  I bite my lip, letting myself dream for two seconds what else he might have in mind, and then I turn toward Fred and shout, “We’ll be at the court.”

  Fred nods, but with a look in his eye that tells us to watch ourselves.

  We head that way, walking, sort of fast, then move into a jog that turns into a race, which is stupid, because he’s going to win. He shows me mercy and slows as we reach the court. I’m already winded, which is a bad sign. “I guess I should be running right now.”

  “We can do that later,” he says.

  “So you run and train on the same days?”

  “Of course.”

  I snap and point at him. “Got it. I’ll grab the racquets.”

  I open the door to the barn and he’s behind me. “Get back to the court,” I say.

  “Come here, just really quick.”

  Because I’m a total sucker, I let him kiss me, my body filling with heat from his lips…or is that the muggy air coming from the barn?

  I pull away and wipe my lips. “Go, before Fred comes up here.”

  He kisses me one more time, and then heads back to the court. By the time I retrieve the racquets, I see Fred milling around by the tree line. I exhale a deep breath, my heartbeat racing, and push out the ball machine with two racquets on top.

  Vaughn sets it up behind the baseline and then turns to me. “You ready?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, wiping the grin off my face. I’m serious about the lessons.

  “You’re not following through on your swing. You’ve got to wrap your racquet all the way around to your left shoulder on your forehand.” He shows me, and I nod. “Do it,” he says. I make an effort, but by the look on his face, it’s poor. “Do it like you’re in a match. Who’s your biggest opponent?”

  “Ugh, this girl at Cedar Prep kicked my butt all four years we played them.”

  “Do it like she’s on the other side of the court.” I take a swing, letting my arm wrap around my body. “Good, keep doing it.” I do it a few more times, and it feels better each time. “Do you feel like you have control of your wrist when you swing?” he asks. I think about it, not sure how to answer. He gauges me. “Why do you hold the racquet so high on the grip?”

  I blink. “Do I?”

  He moves my hand down on the racquet and holds his palm over mine. “That’s where you want it.” A wave of nausea passes quickly through my stomach, and I move my hand back up where it feels safe and comfortable. He puts his hand back on top of mine and moves it down again, squeezing it to keep it in position. “What are you afraid of?”

  I wince, realizing that I guess I am afraid. “I don’t know. Loss of control?”

  “You’ve got to get over that, Carlyn. You don’t seem to be afraid of much, but when I moved your hand down on that grip, you looked at me like I was a snake getting ready to strike.”

  I scratch my head, wondering if this was a bad idea. “I don’t feel comfortable with it like this.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  I stare into his crystal-blue eyes that are starting to make me feel like I’m falling backward off the high dive in a really good way. “Yes, I trust you.”

  He gives me a closed-mouth grin. “Thank you.” I have to let out a breath as my heart tries to find its regular beat again. “Will you try a few shots with it like this?”

  I nod.

  He fills the hopper and heads to the net on the other side of the court. He feeds me some balls. I’m all over the place, thrown off by the new grip. I’m desperate to move my hand back up where it belongs, but I’m trying to trust that Vaughn knows what he’s talking abo
ut. Of course he does.

  He stops after a few balls, and I’m a little deflated as he heads back over to me. “I’m just trying to get the hang of it,” I say, sounding more defensive than I meant to.

  “You’re swinging with your wrist and not your arm. You’ve got so much power behind your shots, but the placement’s not there. Grip your racquet strong.”

  I do so, and he moves behind me, putting his hand back on top of mine. He cups his hand on my hip and nudges my foot with his. “Lead with your opposite foot and open up your body when you swing.” He pulls my racquet back, keeping my wrist tight as he shows me the swing, his body pressed against mine from behind, and his arm wrapped around me as we follow through. My chest lighting up with sensation, I turn to him, our lips inches away, him staring at mine, me staring at his.

  “You got that?” he asks, his voice quiet and so freaking hot.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He squeezes my hip and then heads back to the ball hop and feeds me more balls. When the bin’s empty, we go around and pick up the balls, both ending up in the far corner for the last ones. I pour the balls from my racquet into the hopper he’s carrying. “How’d I do, coach?”

  “Looking good,” he says, scanning me up and down.

  “I meant with the shots.”

  “That’s totally what I meant.” I purse my lips at him and then head back behind the baseline. “How does it feel?” he asks.

  I turn to him, my eyebrows going up.

  “The grip,” he says.

  “Oh.” Heat rises to my ears. “Good. I mean, not good, but I know it’s supposed to be good.”

  “You’ve got to stop sabotaging yourself out here.”

  “I’m not doing that,” I say, a little huffy.

  “You don’t mean to, but you do. Everything you do is safe. What’s your strategy on the court?”

  I shrug. “To win.”

  “How do you try to get there?”

  “Keeping the ball in play…letting the other girl mess up.”

  “You don’t go for winners?” he asks, but it’s like he knows the answer.

  “It’s too risky.”

  “That’s your lack of confidence.”

  “I’m not not confident,” I say, realizing I just used a double-negative, and sounded completely unconfident.

  “Maybe not in life, but you are on the court. What’s holding you back?”

  I blink. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you afraid of winning?”

  I huff a laugh. “No.”

  “Then go for shots. You stand there like you’re afraid to move from the center of the court.”

  “It’s where I’m comfortable.”

  “Then get uncomfortable.”

  He pats my butt with his racquet and heads back to the ball machine. “Go to the other side of the court.” I do, and once he has the machine going, he meets me over there. He’s got it set up to shoot one to me and then one to him so we take turns. He looks like Roger Federer over there, gracefully swinging and placing shots in the corners of the court while I slam them into the net and out of bounds. I need to show him that I’m not as terrible as I was when we played our doubles match last summer, so I start lobbing them. There’s not as much power there, but they’re going in.

  “Hit that ball with some effort, Sadowski.”

  “I’m trying,” I say.

  “Try harder,” he says, slamming one crosscourt.

  He’s got the ball machine set on a high speed, so it’s a little intimidating. I’m not used to yellow projectiles flying at me at this speed. I sneak back to my old grip and hit a few that way. Ha! Those were my best two yet.

  “Don’t wuss back to that old grip,” he says, hitting a backhand.

  “How did you know I did that?”

  He glances at me quickly with a grin but doesn’t answer.

  I purse my lips, but I move my hand back down and keep trying. By the end of the bin, I’m starting to get the hang of it.

  “There she is,” he says. “Welcome to the court.”

  My last shot shoots across the net and catches the tip of the baseline, a shot that would have been a winner if there were an opponent on the other side of that court.

  I turn to him. “What, do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

  “Where you’re concerned out here, yeah.”

  We walk to each other. “You’re kind of annoying, but somewhat helpful.”

  He runs his hand through his thick, wavy hair. “Do you want to get on the Avery team or not?”

  I think about Jeffrey asking me to encourage Vaughn to go pro. “You’ve got to help me understand why you want to play for Avery. I mean, you’re so skilled. It would make no sense whatsoever for someone as good as you and someone as mediocre as me to be playing for the same school.”

  His expression turns serious. “Don’t call yourself mediocre, Carlyn. You’ve got to have confidence in yourself and your abilities.”

  My cheeks heat. “I know. I will. It’s just, I can’t understand it. All I’ve ever wanted was to be good enough to go pro. I’d do it in a second if I were on your level…if I were halfway on your level.”

  He pinches my hip. “You trying to get rid of me? Don’t want to go to school with me?”

  I bite my lip. “No, that’s not what I…never mind.”

  He glances around. “I don’t see Fred or Nancy anywhere…”

  “Show some restraint, Yarborough.” I move past him and pick up balls.

  After another hour and a half of training, Nancy shows up. “You’ve been working hard.”

  “She’s a tyrant,” Vaughn says.

  “Come to the house when you’re done.” She walks away without further explanation, and Vaughn looks at me with a question in his expression. I shrug, and we head toward the shed.

  When we get to the kitchen, Nancy is washing dishes in the sink. “Do you need some help?” I ask.

  “No, sweetie, just sit down at the table.” She grabs a towel and wipes her hands.

  Vaughn and I sit at the table, and I start to get a little nervous. He gives me a smile, but he looks uneasy as well.

  Nancy sits. “The two of you are aware of this camp’s strict no-fraternizing rules between camp counselors. Right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we say in unison, my cheeks heating.

  “What kind of example do you think you’re setting for the kids at this camp with this kind of behavior?”

  “He was just showing me form in my swing,” I say.

  Nancy eyes me. “I’m not talking about just now. I’m talking about your little midnight rendezvous last night.”

  We glance at each other quickly as my stomach sours with the humiliation of being caught.

  She stares at Vaughn. “Do you think this kind of behavior sets a good example for these campers?”

  Vaughn hangs his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Carlyn?” she asks.

  I shake my head quickly. “No.”

  She inhales a deep breath and then alternates her glare between the two of us. “Do I need to tell Fred about this?”

  “No!” we both say immediately.

  “Does it go without saying that there is to be absolutely no touching of any kind when there are children present?”

  “Absolutely,” Vaughn says.

  She sits up, resting her elbows on the table. “I was your age once. I know what it’s like to be eighteen and powerless to raging hormones. But please, for the love of Pete, can the two of you try to contain yourselves at this camp?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will,” Vaughn says.

  She looks at me for confirmation. “Of course,” I say.

  She turns back to Vaughn. “And please refrain from enlisting the services of a thirteen-year-old boy to aide in your escapades.”

  Vaughn winces. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”

  She exhales another deep breath. “I guess that’s enough awkwardness for now. Vaughn, please get to work on cleaning the
cabin bathrooms. The supplies are in the utility closet of the boys’ cabin. The key to your cabin works on that closet as well.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says one final time. “And I apologize for all of this. It’s completely my fault. I take full responsibility.” He turns to me and meets my gaze. “Carlyn, I apologize for putting you in this position. It won’t happen again.”

  My heart stupidly sinks. I hoped we would walk out of here and laugh all of this off. Either he’s an Oscar-worthy actor, or he’s dead serious about never laying a hand on me again. Which really sucks.

  “You didn’t.” I turn to Nancy. “He didn’t. It was totally my idea.”

  Nancy smiles tightly while Vaughn makes his way out the front door, and then she meets my gaze. “Is that true? You initiated it?”

  “Yes. I mean sort of. We talked about possibly kissing, but he wanted me to give the go-ahead, and then I did, and then he set it up.”

  She blinks. “Wow. You guys thought that through, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I think Vaughn wanted to be sure he wasn’t out of line as far as I was concerned. He was hardcore about the no-fraternizing rule from the start. He wouldn’t even go swimming with me on that first day.”

  She huffs a laugh. “Didn’t take him long to come around, did it?” I avert my gaze, and she pats my arm. “I know, sweetie. Emotions move fast when you’re with someone twenty-four hours, seven days a week. Trust me, I knew the second I saw each of you that it wouldn’t be long before we’d be having this conversation.”

  “What about Fred?” I ask.

  She waves me off. “We’re keeping this between us three. Fred is by the book. I’m a bit of a wiggler.” She narrows her gaze at me. “I do need to know that you’re okay, though, sweetie. Fred and I both adore Vaughn. He’s been nothing but respectful and kind to both of us, and to those kids as far as I can observe, and I’ve been observing a lot. He seems to be that way to you, both on and off the court. Is that a fair assessment, or do you feel differently?”