Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7)

by Anna Katmore

  “Oh, please! You have to come, too,” Julie whines, but it’s not her who catches my attention. Justin takes two prowling steps toward me.

  His chin dipped and gaze locked with mine, he says in a low voice that’s certainly meant for me alone, “I know you don’t want to be here. But you can’t change it, and neither can we. So bite the bullet and, for once, try not to ruin this for everyone else, would you?”

  Whaaat?

  Who the fuck does he think he is? Red-hot heat scorches my face and doesn’t even stop at my hairline. My scalp prickles with anger. Aggressively, I toss my locks over my shoulder. “Leave me alone, and I won’t ruin anything for you.” Then I spin on my heel and stride to the desk to finally stow the manicure set away.

  The moment I open the drawer, a slimy green frog gapes up at me from inside and croaks.

  An ear-splitting screech escapes me, the pouch with the nail polish dropping from my hands. I leap back, right into Justin, and bury my face against his shoulder. “Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!”

  His arms come around me fast and strong. He holds me tight against him. Somewhere behind us, it sounds like Julie and Greyson are dying from laughter at my panicked reaction, but not Justin. When I lift my head, he stares into my eyes with surprise. I must have startled him as much as the frog startled me. He’s been holding his breath for a solid five seconds, then his throat twitches with a forceful swallow. My hands flattened against his chest, I finally get to cop a feel of him, one I’ve longed for from the moment he walked into the sickroom this afternoon—before I realized whose body I was actually drooling over. His pecs are rock-hard, his biceps bulging against my upper arms as he keeps me in a firm embrace.

  My hoarse whimpering dies in my throat. Nothing more than hitched, warm breaths come out as his butterscotch eyes keep mine captive.

  He’s grown taller, because I have to tilt my head up a little to look at his face. And if I wrapped my arms around him, I’m sure I’d find his back rippling with muscles today, instead of the back of a lanky young boy.

  The tingle centering in my stomach makes me aware of just how close we are. That, and the fact that his arms, wrapped so tightly around me, prevent me from inhaling deeply.

  Justin’s thumb strokes down the small of my back. Slowly. I don’t think it’s accidental. Then one side of his mouth moves up in a tiny smirk and he lets go of me. “Afraid of frogs, tiger?” he taunts me and walks to the desk. Picking up the nasty amphibian, he lets it escape to freedom through the open window.

  I need a minute to catch my breath. My gaze hangs on Justin as if stuck to his face with superglue, but when he comes back from the window, I retreat to the wall to get out of his path. The sensation of being held by him so gently was just too shocking. I don’t care for a repeat.

  Julie, finally stopping her annoying laughter, rushes to the desk, picks up my manicure equipment, and stashes it in the still-open drawer. With a beaming face, she turns around to me and declares, “You’re done unpacking. Your suitcase is empty, and everything’s in its place. I suppose that means you’re free to come with us now.”

  Ugh. “Look, it’s almost ten,” I argue in a whiny voice. “Somebody’s supposed to keep the girls in check—make sure they don’t get into mischief.” Yep, excellent excuse to stay behind. “You should go without me.”

  “Oh, we know just how to handle that,” Greyson chips in with more enthusiasm than is necessary at this time of night. “Come on,” he says to Julie, grabs her hand, and pulls her outside. The last thing we hear before the door slams shut is him explaining something about a competition and a jigsaw puzzle.

  For a moment, I stand frozen by the wall, all too aware of Justin’s presence filling up the room in a strange way. He examines the two made beds with his head cocked to one side, then he turns to me and nods at the purple sheets. “Yours?”

  “Yes.” Dammit, my voice is still a little unsteady.

  Without asking permission, Justin walks to my bed and lowers onto the mattress. Tipping back, he half lies across it with his shoulders and head leaning against the wall. Propped on his elbow, he keeps one foot on the floor, the other leg angled and the heel resting on the wooden bed frame.

  My eyes narrow at him, and false sweetness edges my voice. “Oh, please, make yourself comfortable.”

  He rubs his hand over the satin-covered quilt and teases me with a grin. “Cozy.”

  Clenching my teeth because I don’t want to look at him lounging on my bed and feel what I’m feeling right now, I busy myself with closing my suitcase and storing it beside the wardrobe. Oh, and maybe my clothes need rearranging on the shelves, too.

  “There’s something wrong with the light,” Justin says after a while.

  Refolding every single T-shirt, I make an effort not to glance at him, and instead shrug. “It’s been doing that since we switched it on this evening.” My voice is nonchalant, but the truth is, if this stupid bulb keeps acting up like this, it’s going to drive me to crazy things really soon—like throwing stones at it.

  A scraping on the floor drags my attention away from folding clothes and makes me turn around. Justin had dragged the desk chair to the middle of the room and is now stepping onto it. With the cuff of his sweatshirt pulled over his right hand, he reaches up above his head and twists the light bulb a quarter turn. The flickering stops.

  When he looks down at me with a satisfied expression, I gape at him and the light, with an open mouth. “You’re welcome,” he says, amused, jumps off the chair, and moves it back to the desk. “Is there anything else you need to do that I can help you with before you’re free to join us?”

  I don’t like the mocking sound of his voice. “No. And thanks for the invitation, but I’m not going.”

  Justin heaves a sigh and sits down on the chair instead of my bed. “Some things never change, do they?” he mumbles.

  Pardon? I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “God, Chloe…” He cuts a glance skyward before he focuses on me. “Why do you always have to stand in your own way? What’s so bad about spending a couple hours with the rest of us to get to know each other better? After all, we’re stuck here for five weeks. Don’t you think we should try to get along?” He lifts both brows, adding, “Nicely?”

  “I do get along with everyone. I just don’t want to spend every free minute with the rest of you. I’m sure you guys will have fun without me.”

  He stands and slowly walks toward me, forcing me to back away until the wall stops me. “You don’t get it, do you?” His hands come up. He plants them at either side of my head against the wall. “This isn’t about you alone. Julie wants to go, but she doesn’t want to go without you. So if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for her.”

  The wood presses against my spine as I struggle to put the most possible distance between us. Dammit, has he never heard of personal space and that he’s not supposed to intrude in someone else’s?

  “It’s certainly not dependent on me whether she’s going out or not,” I snap—or whisper…rather hoarsely.

  “You don’t seem to judge people very well.”

  Whatever. I push at his chest, drawing in a sharp breath when he doesn’t budge. “Leave me alone.”

  “You know I’m in charge,” he warns in an almost dangerous tone. “I can force you to come.”

  “No, you can’t.” I’m sure he can’t.

  He presses his lips together and almost smirks. “You’re right, I can’t. But at the end of your probation, I have to file a report about you. The question now is, what will I write in it?” In a provocative way, he shifts his mouth to one side, pretending to deliberate. “Did you take your job seriously and act as a model counselor? Or did you fail?”

  My eyes grow wide with horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  He bends his arms so that his face moves even closer and his chest is pushing against mine. “Are you sure?”

  I’m warm, that’s all I know right now
. Way too warm. It must be 120 degrees in here. And then I wonder what stupid game he’s playing. Before today, we hadn’t spoken three words in four years, and now he thinks he can fuel my fire by getting too close?

  Well, judging by my galloping heartbeat thundering in my ears right now, he obviously can. It’s extremely annoying.

  At that moment, Numbers Two and Three burst back into the room. “Everything’s set. We can go,” Julie says cheerfully, then she stops dead as Justin moves away from me, slowly and unimpressed by the disturbers. Her cheeks flush a little. Damn, are mine rosy, too?

  I clear my throat and tug the purple cami into place. “Really, I don’t want to go, Julie,” I tell her when my vocal cords function again.

  She stares at me, the happiness literally dropping from her face. Even though she’s fast to cover it with a forced smile, the disappointment is still apparent. “Okay.” Her voice is softer than before, lower, and drained of all excitement. She turns to the boys. “Maybe another time then. You two enjoy your sodas.”

  “What?” My chin smacks down. “I didn’t mean for you to stay behind—go with them. Have fun.”

  She lifts her shoulders without much enthusiasm. “I’m definitely not going to leave you alone on our first night at camp.”

  Hands clasped behind his back, Justin walks past Julie to the door and slides a glance at me, tilting his brows. He knows he doesn’t have to say a word.

  “For Christ’s sake!” With a growl of irritation, I ignore the satisfaction crossing his face, trudge to the wardrobe, slip on my strappy sandals, and head outside. “Let’s go together then.”

  Two, Three, and Four follow me, one of them switching off the now flawless light in our cabin and closing the door. With a sideways glance, I find Julie’s beaming smile back in place once again. At least one of us is going to enjoy this.

  As we amble through the woods to the dining hall, she explains to me the genius idea Justin and Greyson had to keep the kids busy and out of trouble until we get back. I nod from time to time to keep her happy, not really listening to her drivel. I’m actually more concerned with rubbing a light chill from my arms. A breeze we didn’t notice inside the cabin has picked up. If I’d known, I’d have brought a sweatshirt to drape around my shoulders.

  The yellow, square building is pitch-dark when we arrive, but Justin obviously knows where the control box for the lights is. He flicks a few switches, and a small part of the hall and kitchen brightens. “The fridge is stocked with soda. Have as many as you want,” he tells us.

  As many as we want? How long do they intend to stay here? I agreed to come—by blackmail—but I’m not going to spend the entire night in the dining hall. One soda. The faster it’s consumed, the better.

  I grab a Sprite from the fridge and sit down with the others at the same table we claimed at dinner. It’s weird to be here at night. Everything’s quiet. We don’t have to raise our voices to hear each other like we had to with the crowd of teens around. In fact, with only the lights above our table on and the rest of the room disappearing in darkness, it’s almost cozy.

  While I silently sip half the Sprite, relaxing in the gray vinyl chair, Julie tells a long story about how being a counselor is like reliving the best times of her childhood. Obviously, her camp memories are a lot like mine but, regardless, they wouldn’t have made me come here voluntarily.

  I already heard about Justin’s ambitions that afternoon, and Greyson’s motives to become a counselor apparently have to do with his little brother. “He wanted to go to camp so badly, but it’s his first time away from home alone and he was quite scared,” Number Three tells us. With his big brother around to keep an eye on little Collin Monroe, the problem was solved.

  “If I had a younger brother, he couldn’t have paid me to come here,” I snort and take another sip from the bottle.

  “Nah, it’s not that bad. Once I got used to the idea, I was pretty eager to come, actually,” Greyson replies. “Anyway, what’s your reason for becoming a counselor? You don’t seem so happy about it, to be honest.”

  My gulp of Sprite echoes in the hall. I look up at him, biting my lip because I never thought about explaining my reasons for coming to camp.

  “Yeah, tiger,” Justin mocks me with a smirk and mischievous gleam in his eyes as he leans back and laces his hands over his stomach. “Why are you here?”

  Oh, he’s enjoying this all right.

  Drop dead, asshole, I want to shoot at him, but I hold back and grind my molars instead. No one will make me spill the truth about my probation at this table. Definitely not him. “Because, Spider-Boy,” I finally drawl with menace and a hard stare, “I’m getting a reward for this.”

  “You’re getting paid?” Greyson asks in wonder.

  “No.” Clearing my throat and dropping the lethal venom in my voice that was meant for Justin alone, I explain, “I get to go to Europe if I do this. There’s a famous acting school in England. I’m already enrolled, and two of my best friends are waiting there for me.”

  “Wicked,” Julie breathes.

  “It’s a whole year I get for two weeks of camp.”

  “Five,” Justin says.

  “What?”

  He blinks a couple of time. “Five weeks of camp.”

  “Yeah. Of course, that’s what I meant,” I say quickly. “Five weeks.” As I lower my head, Justin’s scrutinizing gaze doesn’t escape me. Dammit, I need to be more careful. Another slip like this can’t happen, especially not around him.

  “Have you been studying acting in the area since high school?” Julie asks.

  “Yeah. I lived in San Francisco last year.”

  “Ooh, that’s so exciting. I haven’t been outside San Luis Obispo my entire life—well, except for camp.” She laughs. “Have you already met some real stars there? Are you getting taught by famous actors? How long is the course?”

  Her interest and fire inspire me to tell her more about the school I’ve been going to with Brinna, and soon my throat goes dry from answering all of Greyson’s and her questions. They look impressed beyond words when they hear that Harrison Ford was invited to teach a special course last fall at my school. Unfortunately, I can’t show them the selfie of him and me on my phone because—yeah, officially I don’t have my phone anymore. It’s supposed to be rotting away with all the others in a closet in the main office. No one needs to know mine is actually waiting for me in my purse back in our cabin.

  When Julie and Greyson start an excited conversation about which actor they would love to meet in person, I take the chance to slip away and get myself another drink from the fridge around the corner. As I fish a mineral water from the back, I sense someone stepping up behind me.

  “I’m impressed. You didn’t even blush when you lied to them.” Justin’s purr tickles my ear. I stiffen, clasping the neck of the bottle in my fist. “But then,” he continues in a low, soft voice, “you never blushed when telling lies in the past either.”

  I spin around and find myself caught between the fridge and Justin, who’s grabbing the door with one hand and the side of the stainless-steel box with his other. “It wasn’t a lie,” I growl. “It was just one version of the truth.”

  “Ah, yes.” His gaze turns hard, in spite of the fire in his eyes when he fixes me with his stare. “I can see how that’s easy for you, as you’ve always been a master of altering the truth to fit your needs.”

  The cold from the open fridge behind me is crawling up my bare legs, while the heat from Justin’s body seeps mercilessly into my front. The war of fire and ice inside me threatens to bring me down to my knees in another moment. I need to go.

  Pushing at his outstretched arm, I try to escape, but he’s gripping the fridge door too hard. His arm doesn’t budge an inch. “Going to keep me locked here forever?” I snap, trying to kill him with an evil glare.

  An infinite moment longer, he just stands in front of me and deliberates. Then he says, “No,” much softer than before and chuckles. “Just
for five weeks.”

  Yeah, funny, isn’t he? I push at his arm again, harder this time, and shove it out of the way. Biting my tongue, I stalk back to the table. Justin follows a few seconds later, sitting down again with a Fanta in his hand. I stare at the yellow-and-orange can, getting swept away into the depths of my past.

  Kneeling in the grass, I wipe the sticky liquid from my face. “You did that on purpose!”

  His eyes are dark, intense, and fixed on mine. “Absolutely.” Then he smirks and wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand, before taking another sip of his Fanta.

  I shake the memory away. Justin was right earlier. Obviously, some things never change.

  After the escapade with him in the kitchen, it’s quite nice to be in the company of others again. And in spite of initially intending to have only one drink and slink off, I’m surprised to find myself still sitting at the table in the dining hall after midnight, listening to Julie explain an altered version of Capture the Flag, which she wants to introduce to the kids tomorrow.

  “So there’re the usual two flags, one for the boys and one for the girls. Except, both groups have to protect them for the entire five weeks. The one group that can steal the flag of the other and hold it until the end of camp are the winners.”

  Even though I’m absolutely not into camp games, I find this particular idea kind of intriguing. Maybe it’s the sportsmanship in me piping up—who knows—but when she says we need two flags in different colors, I suggest stealing two dish towels to construct them.

  “That’s a good idea,” Justin says approvingly and then has Greyson run outside and find two foot-long sticks. In the meantime, he saunters to the kitchen and comes back with two towels. One is checkered blue-and-white, the other yellow-and-white. “Blue for the boys?” he asks and holds one up.

  We tie them each to a stick and—voila—there are two perfect flags for the kids.