“I love how something plain can become so magical.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtext. Softly, he said, “Not everyone needs makeup and fancy clothes to be magical.”
Embarrassment swamped her for just a second. Were her insecurities that obvious? But then she thought better of it. Even if they were, Ben really saw her for who she was, and he wanted to be with her.
When she said, “Thank you,” she really meant “I love you.” She’d save that for later. It might be too much for their first official night as Mallory and Ben.
In the dusky twilight with fireflies whizzing past them like fairies, he reached his hand out to her. His hand was so big and warm. She was in love with his hands alone. It got better. He leaned in and pulled her closer until she was pressed up against him. She’d thought their kisses before had been passionate, but nothing compared to this. There was something new and raw between them. This was their first kiss as Mallory and Ben. Their hearts were both on the line.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Frisbee and a Haircut
Ben
Ben and Mallory were standing outside the cafeteria after dinner, trying to figure out what to do next. There were a couple of evening activities. Ben was leaning toward Frisbee. Mallory said she was leaning toward anything but Frisbee, although she said she wouldn’t mind sitting in the grass and watching. Before they could head toward the field, Fozzie walked by and said, “Ben and…” He squinted at Mallory.
Mallory solved his confusion. “I’m Mallory.”
“Would you two mind coming to the office?”
As they fell into step behind him, Mallory whispered. “What do you think it is?”
Ben had to admit. Whatever Fozzie was up to, it seemed serious. On the way to Fozzie’s office, they collected Blake, too.
Properly seated in his office, Fozzie putzed around looking at junk mail for a minute. The director never blurted anything out; he liked to make campers sweat a little before he read the verdict. When he wasn’t the one sweating, Ben admired Fozzie’s style. After a deep breath, Fozzie finally settled down and said, “First of all, girls, you’re both staying for the rest of the session.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been official before. Fozzie hadn’t been able to get ahold of Mr. Jones. “I tried to send you home, but your father wouldn’t hear it.”
Ben bet that Mr. Jones made a large donation to the camp to get his way. Next summer there’d probably be twelve new canoes or a new volleyball court in honor of this incident.
Fozzie leaned back in his chair and cracked open a bottle of—at first Ben thought it was root beer—but it wasn’t. It was Hite Beer. The guys had figured the South Koreans just didn’t come through. Derek said it might have been a delivery problem, something about alcohol in the mail. It was just an interception by the Foz. From the look on Fozzie’s face, Hite Beer wasn’t that good. He cringed and inspected the label, as if to see what the nasty swill he was drinking was called. Fozzie leveled a stare at Ben. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you, son?”
Ben shook his head. “No, sir.”
Fozzie let them sweat for the time it took him to savor another sip and said, “So, Camp Pine Ridge is a wholesome and friendly camp. Over the last couple of weeks, there have been a lot of shenanigans. Not to mention, there’s a lot of gossip. Camp’s turned into a Hollywood backlot.” He shook his head and took another swig of Hite.
Shamelessly, Blake chewed her gum and waited for whatever he was going to say. Mallory bent her head. Seeing how nervous she looked, Ben reached for her hand. When he gave it a squeeze, she flashed a mini smile.
No matter how much trouble they got in, they had each other now.
Blake sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “This is really all my fault.” She made a pretty a little speech about how Mallory hadn’t done anything wrong. It seemed a little rehearsed, perhaps an opportunity for a monologue, but altruistic all the same. And how much change could you really expect from someone?
Fozzie took a deep breath. “I’m relieved to hear you say that, young lady.”
So was Ben. He might even stop thinking of her as a sociopath if she kept being human.
“The assistant DA also agrees that this is all your fault. I gave him a call per my beginning-of-the-session instructions. I was to call him if there was any funny business from you.” He eyeballed Blake. “Your switcheroo, I think you would agree, qualifies as funny business.”
Blake’s eyes grew to actual Disney princess proportions. The whole scene was very Rapunzel-being-sentenced-to-jail.
Fozzie chuckled at her reaction. “Don’t worry. I put in a good word for you. Your behavior at camp has been just fine, other than the obvious.” He paused to take another swig of Hite. “Davis mentioned community service. I imagine you’ll be cleaning up roadsides and slaving away in a soup kitchen for most of the next school year. You’re to report to his office the day after camp is out to discuss the details.”
Ben had to admit, he was glad to hear she wasn’t getting away with torturing him all year. It’s not like he wanted to see her rot in prison, but a little justice felt good.
He whispered, “Don’t worry; you’re going to look great in an orange vest.”
She scowled, but he just grinned back.
Finally, Fozzie sent them on their merry way. He’d just wanted to scare them a little, let them know who was in charge. It was good to have that cleared up, but there was still another issue.
Even several days after the “Holy shit! There are two Blakes!” moment at the dance, everyone was confused. No one was sure which Jones twin was which. The fact that Mallory started going by her real name without explanation didn’t help. The only thing campers were sure about was the weird incestuous love triangle with Ben at the center.
Ben was offended for Mallory, but sort of proud of himself. It was the kind of rumor a guy could write home about, which he did. He texted his brother about the rumor a bunch of times with some smug selfies.
But he was a gentleman, and the rumors were bothering Mallory, so Ben decided to put a stop to them. Standing in the guys’ cabin, he gestured to his hottie girlfriend and said, “Dudes, this is Mallory. She’s from Sofia. We go to the same school. Her twin sister Blake is here, too. Mallory and I are dating. I am not, nor have I ever dated, Blake.”
The guys gave him a thumbs-up and went back to gaming. It might not have done anything, but at least he’d tried.
To most of the campers, Blake and Mallory looked pretty much identical. Hell, Ben hadn’t been able to tell them apart up until he’d started making out with Mallory. Even then, he’d spent a day with Blake thinking she was overtired or something. There’s no way he would ever mix them up now. Mallory was subtle. You had to pay attention to know what she was thinking. Blake—her emotions played out on her face, leaving zero room for question. She was a live-action gif.
Mallory said, “I wonder if I should cut my hair. We’d be easier to tell apart at least.”
“That’s a great idea.” He wondered why Mallory hadn’t done that years ago.
“Do you have scissors?” Mallory asked. It seemed like she was just going to take it off right then and there, no booking an appointment at a luxury day spa like all the other Bellevue girls.
He raised his hands in defense. “I don’t want to cut your hair.” There was no way he wanted to be responsible for another hair trauma.
She shrugged. “I can always have it straightened up later, if it turns out bad.”
When the guys went back to gaming, he and Mallory walked out to a quiet spot outside. She found a tree stump that she declared perfect for hair-cutting and handed him the scissors she’d wrangled. He looked at the girl in front of him. She was trusting him with her hair. He figured her sister would probably rip the scissors from his hand and stab him before he even made one cut. “I totally don’t know how I bought your charade. You and Blake are nothing alike.”
She looked up at him with a little mischief in her big Disney princess eyes. He had it so bad. “I know. I’m not even a good actress.”
“Are you sure you want me to cut your hair?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yep, do it. Lop it off at my chin. Maybe it’ll be liberating.”
Ben was skeptical, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. If he refused, she said she’d just get someone else to do it. The scissors were dull, and she had a lot of hair. It was like mowing long, wet grass with a crappy lawnmower. His cuts looked all choppy, but there was no going back. This wasn’t going to be a good haircut.
She said, “How’s it look?”
“Well, you look nothing like your sister anymore.” Trying to break it to her gently, he explained, “I didn’t get it the straightest, though.”
She laughed. “You’re not one of those guys who is only into long hair, I hope. I forgot to ask.”
He blurted out a laugh. He just hoped that she didn’t kill him.
She smiled. “I don’t care what it looks like. I just don’t want to look like my sister anymore.” With a quirky smile, she said, “We can be the weird couple at school who cuts each other’s hair and…I don’t know. What else are we going to do?”
“Make out in the library,” Ben answered. “It sounds like Jill owes you.”
“Perfect.”
Hand in hand, they walked back to camp. Ben had to admit she was right, the hairdo hadn’t been a bad idea. Mallory looked pretty cute in her bad haircut and a big smile. The sun was just starting to set over Camp Pine Ridge. Between the cabins and the little lake, it looked like the perfect American summer camp. It would go down in history as the best punishment ever.
Epilogue
Mallory
Nine Months Later…
Nine months later, it was prom. The only one who ended up pregnant was the accidental duchess. By the end of the book, she’d given birth to three kids. It all happened between the last chapter and epilogue, which closed with Lydia nursing a baby while the duke smiled and bounced a toddler on his knee. The duke, a mansion, and a killer wardrobe—that was a pretty sweet happily ever after for a nineteenth-century chick. Mallory preferred prom.
“Mal, hurry up!” Blake yelled up the stairs. Mallory was still getting ready, and Blake was downstairs pacing. She’d gotten the night off of roadside cleanup duty for prom. Instead of the bright orange road safety vest that had become a common sight around the house, Blake was sheathed in a metallic micro-mini outfit that would give their dad a heart attack if he saw it. Mallory was wearing an almost exact copy of the gown Lydia Farrow wore on the cover of The Accidental Duchess. Blake had declared the Regency-inspired gown “so not sexy!” but Mallory loved it. She’d tried to find a Regency outfit for Ben, but he lucked out. None of the tux rental places carried breeches. A tailcoat was good enough. He agreed to the low ponytail, too, but had drawn a line at tying it with a ribbon. How could her life get any better?
“What do you need?” Mallory called down the stairs. She wasn’t sure why Blake was in such a big hurry all of a sudden. It’s not like they were late. The limo outside wasn’t charging by the minute or anything.
Good reason or no, she was in a hurry. “Mal! We have to leave now!”
Mallory frowned. They were getting along a lot better, but she still couldn’t keep up with her sister’s whims. “I’m hurrying,” she said. She was actually going slow as molasses.
Five minutes later, there was nothing but silence from downstairs. “Blake?” she called.
There was no answer, but a minute later her phone beeped with a text: “Sorry. Call Ben 4 ride. Dad was coming up driveway. Would have made me change. Limo sux anyway. No hot tub!”
When she looked out the window she saw the limo speeding away toward who knows where, probably Luke Culpepper’s house. Their dad was pulling up, so Mallory could sort of see Blake’s point. He never would have let her go to prom mostly naked, which was all Blake wanted.
When Ben didn’t respond to her texts (Jill was on exchange in France), she did what she had to do.
Dressed in full Regency attire, Mallory started walking. She hiked the dress up to keep the hem from getting dirty. Blake was going to owe her big time after this.
At least she wasn’t carrying a backpack with the entire Duchess in Love series and a French horn like last time. Unfortunately, the weather decided to repeat itself. The clouds rolled in and…was that a raindrop? God, she hoped it wasn’t a raindrop. She’d spent too long curling her hair to get rained on! She’d probably just imagined it. But no, there was another one.
Just when she’d just about given up, a vehicle pulled up. Through her rain-splattered glasses she looked up to see… A giant smile broke out on her face. One look at Ben in his tailcoat and low ponytail and Mallory went totally gooey, smiley, drunk-on-love happy. How could he even be hers?
Her bag of thirty book boyfriends had been nice, and she still loved them all dearly, but Ben put them all to shame… It was fairy-tale perfect.
He swung the door open and said, “Sorry I didn’t catch you earlier. My phone was dead.”
“How’d you know?”
“The limo never came to get me, so I decided to swing by.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume this is your sister’s fault.”
Mallory nodded. “I’m sure she couldn’t think, though. There were too many flashbulbs going off in her imagination.” That always happened on special occasions. Blake was still the kid who opened up every Christmas present before everyone got up. There was no chance her brain would be functional on prom. “She’ll make it up to me later.”
Mallory wasn’t a doormat anymore and Blake knew it.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to the country club. Bellevue’s dances were always at the country club. “Do we have to pay for the valet?” Ben asked.
“I don’t think so.”
Mallory was hardly any better at country club life than Ben.
Inside it was throbbing music, a rainbow of prom dresses. Mallory grabbed Ben’s hand. “How about we just put in an appearance?”
With a don’t-chicken-out look, he said, “It’s prom, Mal.”
She’d warm up by standing next to the punch bowl for a while and gradually ease her way onto the dance floor.
Ben was cool with that plan. He loaded up a plate of snacks. The country club had good food. A few songs into the experience, he announced, “I think I just ate a whole tray of canapés.”
“Were they any good?”
“For canapés, I guess. It’s hard to taste bites that small.”
He was right. Canapés could only be so good. After he finished them, he said, “Times up. Let’s dance.”
With a good-natured grin, Ben dragged her onto the dance floor. He was right, she would regret it if she didn’t dance at prom. Blake and Luke were already there, along with half the school. With the music pulsing through her veins and everyone she loved around her, Mallory forgot about being nervous, hiked up the skirt on her Regency gown, and got down to dancing.
When a slow song came on, Ben drew her close and she rested her head against his chest. Her heart fluttered when he bent his head to her ear and asked if she wanted to take a walk outside. Ben might not know it, but he was speaking Regency. Just like math, it was a universal language. She was sure of it.
Just like a Regency heroine (except wearing a modern underwire bra and, as of last week, carrying a brand new driver’s license in her purse), Mallory followed Ben in to the garden. As she suspected, he had no interest in the country club’s landscaping. She couldn’t deny that it had a special impact, though. The way the green hills rolled out beneath their feet all the way to the horizon made her feel like the world was just for them. It was like their very own red carpet leading to whatever beautiful future they could imagine.
“This is why people like golf courses,” Ben commented.
Mallory nodded. “Yep.” Although it was distinctly more magical alone
with Ben under the stars than riding in a golf cart with her dad in the sweltering heat of the day.
She wrapped her arms around him and looked into his eyes. “Did you hear back from Fozzie yet?” Her official letter from Camp Pine Ridge had arrived that afternoon.
He nodded. From the look on his face, she could tell it was good news. “I’m in,” he said.
She held back a squeal of excitement. “I can’t believe he hired both of us after what happened last summer.”
With a chuckle, Ben said, “I can. I mean, he’s the one who hired Derek. He’s only making us junior counselors. Derek was a full-fledged, in-charge-of-twenty-impressionable-souls counselor.”
Mallory laughed. “True.” Then a lightbulb switched on and she said, “Maybe he only hires deviants, like one of those businesses that hire ex-cons as a public service. Hiring us is his gift to society.”
Sagely, Ben nodded. “Yep, he’s just getting us off the streets.” Then, he flashed a get-real-Mallory look and said, “Not. You’re the most responsible person I know, but no matter why he hired us, this summer is going to be epic.”
“Epically calm and relaxing, I hope.” Nothing could be as big of a roller coaster as last summer, as least she didn’t think so. Word on the street was that had had fired Derek finally. He’d also promoted Kipper to assistant director.
“Enough about camp,” Ben whispered. He pressed his lips to hers and she melted into him. Her heart raced just as quickly as it had on their first kiss last summer. “Did I tell you I like your dress?”
“Really?”
“Easy access,” he said with a smile.
She had to admit, it was a very low-cut dress, especially for the 1800s. She didn’t mind one bit, though. That was one feature that was good for both of them. Mallory could barely even believe this was her life. One session of summer camp had truly changed everything.
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Breaking the Rules of Revenge Page 18
