Kiss Kiss

by Various Authors

  The drive continued on in awkward fashion as Rick and I did our best, considering the situation, to get to know each other. He would pepper me with several questions in a row about my childhood, wait for me to respond and then fall silent again. I wasn’t doing much better. Back home, I had a whole list of things I wanted to know about him, but now that I was sitting here, my brain was freezing up on me. The conversation loosened up when he asked about my past birthdays. He chuckled as I explained Mom’s almost manic behavior each time my birthday would roll around. How she would flutter around like a bee on acid the weeks leading up to my parties, only to drop into a heap of exhaustion once the party ended. As I chatted, I tried to keep my apprehension at bay as civilization slowly faded away behind us. Shopping malls, restaurants, and even gas stations became few and far between the closer we got to the massive snow-covered mountains in front of us.

  “Wow, there’s still snow on the mountains,” I exclaimed.

  “It’s been a rough winter and an even rougher spring. Just last week we had a storm blow in that dropped a foot of snow. It's melted since then, but it's definitely been an uncharacteristically cold start to the summer," he said.

  “But, it’s June," I protested.

  “Guess Mother Nature didn’t get that memo,” he said.

  “I’m surprised it hasn’t melted,” I said, recalling the warmer temperatures outside when we left the terminal.

  “It’s a tad bit colder up where you see the snow. That's even higher than were we’re headed, but it’s still been pretty chilly at camp for the past couple of weeks,” he said, which explained his warm clothing. “You bring anything warmer?” he added, taking in my sandal-clad feet and long dress.

  “Um, no, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said, figuring it couldn’t be much colder than California weather during the winter. For the most part, I wore sandals year round.

  He chuckled as he veered off the highway and pulled into the first shopping plaza I’d seen for the last twenty minutes.

  “I think we need to get you some proper duds,” he said, opening his door as I looked at him questioningly.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tried to argue as he led me to the women’s section of the store.

  “Trust me, you need these,” he said, propelling me toward the jeans. “The average temperature during the day has been running in the high fifties and at night it’s fifteen degrees cooler.”

  “Get out,” I said, not quite believing him.

  “Believe me, you’ll freeze your a…” he cut off.

  “I’ve heard the word ass before, Rick."

  I turned to him, liking the sound of his sudden laughter. “No doubt. I just try to keep swearing to a minimum around the campers. It’s become a habit to correct myself.”

  “How many campers do you have?” I asked, noticing the half-dozen or so God-awful flannel shirts he had tossed into the buggy. Even in colder weather, I usually wore oversized cable-knit sweaters and thick leggings under my long skirts. I put half of the flannel shirts back and picked out several hooded sweatshirts instead since I didn't see any sweaters to speak of.

  “I cap it at fifty, twenty-five boys and twenty-five girls.”

  “Wow, fifty? Your place must be huge.”

  “Just under fifty acres,” he said, smiling at my shock. “I plan to acquire another ten acres next year.”

  “How much do you charge for camp?” I asked, amazed at his enterprise.

  “We’re nonprofit. The campers pay nothing. The state kicks in a few bucks, but I panhandle for the rest,” he teased.

  I smiled, conjuring up a mental picture of him begging for loose change on the corner somewhere.

  “I’d better go try these on,” I said, grabbing the overflowing stack of jeans and leggings I had added to the cart.

  “Sounds good. I’ll pick up a few more necessities for you, and then we should be good to go.”

  “More?” I asked, mentally calculating the bill in my head. I saw half the money I had saved for dorm room shopping disappearing.

  “Just a few things,” he said, disappearing around the corner with the cart.

  The first couple pairs of jeans fit perfectly, but I decided to only get one pair since I wasn't a huge fan of jeans anyway. I figured I could supplement the rest of my wardrobe with leggings I could wear under the long skirts I had packed, and if I was a little frugal, I could salvage some of my savings. Of course, the thought of trying to make it in the mountains with one pair of jeans and a couple pairs of leggings for six weeks was stupid. Sighing in resignation, I tried on the remaining jeans and picked the three pairs I liked the best. Maybe if I begged Chuck at the art supply store for extra hours he might throw me a bone. I still had four weeks to earn extra money once I was back home.

  Rick was waiting for me outside the dressing room holding a heavy jacket, gloves and a hat.

  “No way,” I said shaking my head. “We’re not going to Antarctica. That stuff will just go to waste,” I said, drawing the line at spending my hard-earned cash on something I didn’t need.

  “Trust me, Kimberly, you’ll thank me by tomorrow,” he said, holding out the black jacket for me to try on.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “But I’m leaving the tag on. If I don’t need it, we can return it.” At least he had a knack for finding the right size.

  “I should. I’ve been doing it for years. A lot of the foster kids come to camp with only a few things to their name. I keep a lot of stuff on hand, but it’s mostly for the younger crowd,” he said, pushing the buggy to an open register.

  That certainly put things in perspective. Rick was obviously an all-around great guy, helping those less fortunate. I guess worrying about having the money for some throw rug for my dorm room didn’t seem as important when you looked at things that way.

  Together Rick and I piled my new wardrobe onto the conveyor belt. Once the cart was emptied, I reached for my wallet.

  “Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Rick asked incredulously.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You didn’t seriously think I’d make you pay?” he asked, shaking his head in obvious bafflement.

  “Of course I’m going to pay,” I said.

  “Kimmie, I’ve missed your whole life. The least I can do is properly outfit you while you’re visiting me.”

  His words touched me. I’d never been a fan of the nickname Kimmie, but coming from him, it made me feel special.

  “That’s not your fault,” I reminded him.

  “And it’s not yours,” he countered. “Please, let me,” he added.

  “Seriously, Rick, you don’t have to,” I said, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of him paying.

  “I want to,” he said, handing over his credit card to the girl behind the counter who was watching us with interest.

  “Thanks,” I said as a warm tingle spread through me. When I was little, I used to dream about my father showing up and buying me surprises. As I got older, my dreams shifted to just wishing he would show up and want to get to know me. It seemed surreal having Rick standing before me now, doing both.

  Once my bags were stowed in the back of the SUV with my luggage, Rick tuned the radio to a country station and we were back on the road. The long twisty roads of the mountain quickly took a toll on me and my eyes began to droop until they eventually closed.

  I jerked awake when the vehicle shuddered to a stop. Blinking my eyes in the afternoon sun, I took in the sight of my temporary home. A massive log cabin-looking building dominated the space in front of us. A rustic screened-in patio with multiple seating areas ran the length of the front exterior. I could see smaller log buildings peeking out behind the large structure. There were a few girls that looked to be my age chatting in the screened-in space. Above us stood a large wooden sign with words burned into it welcoming visitors to Camp Unlikely Allies.

  “Unlikely Allies?” I asked.

  “Figured it was the best name for all the misfits
we get here,” he answered affectionately. “Seriously, since everyone comes from such diverse backgrounds, normally it would be unlikely that they would ever think to work together or help each other. My goal here is to teach them that despite differences, we all must all be allies,” he added passionately.

  Some of my misgivings at being so far removed from civilization began to dissipate as the magnitude of what Rick was doing here hit me. He was changing the lives of kids. It was such an admirable cause that my whining about missing the beach and my art studio seemed utterly ridiculous.

  “It’s a perfect name,” I said, smiling at him.

  “Uh, thanks,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I sometimes think I get overzealous when I explain the name,” he added, chuckling.

  “You just sound proud, which you should be. This is amazing,” I said, taking in my surroundings. I wasn’t a nature buff, but I had to admit, the towering trees overhead with the sun streaming through the breaks in the branches gave the aura of an enchanting hideaway.

  “It’s always a work in progress. We just updated the mess hall this winter,” Rick said, indicating the building in front of us. “The girls' dorms over there are only a couple years old,” he added, pointing at two cabins on the right side of the building. “We plan on updating the boys' dorms this winter if my panhandling comes together in the fall,” he joked, pointing toward the two identical cabins on the left.

  I looked at him curiously, wondering about his "panhandling" comments. I wasn’t sure how much it cost to keep a venture like this floating, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t cheap.

  I climbed out of the vehicle and shivered in the cooler temperatures. Rick hadn’t been kidding, it was easily twenty degrees cooler here than when we left the airport.

  I rubbed my hands over my arms that had a multilayer of goose bumps already popping up on them.

  “The room I stay in is right outside my office,” Rick said as he opened the hatch of the vehicle. “You’ll be sharing the ten-to-twelve-year-old dorm with Amy,” he added, dragging my heavy suitcase from the cargo bay.

  Share a cabin? “What?” I asked, not sure I had heard him right. I didn’t have much experience with kids since I was never one to babysit. Mom was the one who was good with kids, not me. I liked them okay, but always found conversations with them stilted since I never knew what to say, and being with them in such close quarters made me want to hightail it back to the airport as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels.

  My train of thought was derailed when I heard the swing of an ax.

  Turning around to find the source of the noise, I felt all the air leave my lungs when I saw a blond-haired, shirtless, oh-my-god-he’s-too-hot-for-words stud cutting wood in the clearing just beyond the boys’ cabins. I watched in awe as his muscles rippled while he swung the ax to cut clean through the small log on the tree stump in front of him. His shirtless back glistened with sweat that slowly trickled beyond the jeans that rode low on his hips. My eyes followed the trail and I felt myself flush at the direction my thoughts were taking. I’d spent half my life around half-dressed surfer boys, but I was pretty sure none of their abs came close to the ones I was openly admiring. The artist in me yearned to grab a sketchpad and immortalize him on paper before the moment disappeared. A pair of dog tags hung down his back so they wouldn't get in the way as he swung the ax. For some reason, the sight of the dog tags made his glistening back even sexier. He exuded hotness and I couldn't help responding.

  Rick asked me a question, but stopped when he spotted me ogling the guy in front of me. His face spread into a wide smile. “Mason, son, come meet my daughter,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder.

  My stomach dropped to my toes. Did he say, son?

  Chapter 2

  I stared in disbelief at Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-For-My-Own-Good in front of me. Mom had neglected to tell me that Rick had a son too. The bile rose in my throat, and I don’t know if I was more embarrassed or angry about ogling my half brother. Would Mom’s half-truths never end?

  “Hi,” I said, trying not to sound as stupid as I felt at the moment.

  He swept his eyes disdainfully down my frame, taking in my long flowing sundress that was completely inappropriate for the mountain conditions. “You won’t find any waves out here, beach bunny,” he taunted.

  “Excuse me?” I said, caught off guard. Was he seriously judging me? He was the show-off, standing around with no shirt on, trying to impress everyone. I opened my mouth to shoot off a catty comeback when Rick intervened.

  “Kimmie wasn’t aware we were so high up in the mountains,” he said, offering an explanation I felt was highly unnecessary.

  “Kimmie?” Mason said, smirking at me.

  “Kim-ber-ly,” I said, dragging out my name like I would if I were talking to a two-year-old.

  “Well, this isn’t awkward,” Rick said, darting his eyes between us. Ordinarily, I would have laughed at his outright bluntness. It was nice to know we shared that trait.

  “Sorry,” I said, trying to ease the tension. “I guess Mom forgot to mention I had a half brother, among other things.”

  “Oh, we don’t share blood, beach bunny,” Mason said, like the mere idea was distasteful.

  “Come again?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t misunderstanding him.

  “Mason came here as foster kid when he was ten and pretty much never left,” Rick said, proudly slapping Mason on the back.

  Well, that was a relief. Not because I was just gawking at him, but because I had the strong desire to jump off a cliff at the idea of actually being related to such an arrogant ass. Still, I have to admit, I felt a little uncharacteristically jealous over the bond they seemed to share that was never an option for me. I knew that was irrational considering we were all practically adults, but I kind of felt like a kid with my nose pressed to the window of a candy store while all the other kids got to pick out a treat.

  “Little old to be a camper, aren’t you—or do they go by maturity level around here?” I asked in a sugarcoated voice.

  Rick swept his gaze between Mason and me, obviously catching the hostility that seemed to vibrate between us. “Mason is the best counselor/all-around-handyman I could ever ask for.”

  “Yep, see beach bunny, some of us actually work for a living,” Mason said before sauntering off to resume his work.

  I was left sputtering in his wake as he sank his ax into the tree stump and pulled his t-shirt off the nearby branch where it was hanging.

  “Okay, so, that wasn’t the way I expected that to go,” Rick said, puzzled by the way we had reacted.

  “Sorry, I’m just not used to being around arrogant guys,” I said, passing the buck off on Mason.

  “Well, he’s usually not like that. He’s usually very courteous to girls,” Rick said, scratching the light hair that covered his face.

  “I guess I bring out the worse in him,” I said, feeling bad for spoiling the moment for Rick. This wasn’t exactly the first impression I wanted to make.

  He nodded, still looking confused and a little bit hurt. I followed meekly behind him, suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of homesickness. What the hell was I doing here? This wasn’t my element. I knew nothing about the people I would be spending the next six weeks of my life with. I’d already alienated myself with one, and followed that by disappointing the father I had known all of five hours. I felt like an epic failure.

  “This will be your dorm,” Rick said, pushing open the heavy wooden door open with his foot. I dragged my suitcase up the two shallow wooden steps and crossed through the doorway to take in my surroundings. The interior was as rough and rugged as the exterior. Six sets of bunk beds lined three of the walls. Tall unfinished wardrobes stood between each set while two more flanked the wall by the door we had entered. Two solitary twin beds sat in the center of the room.

  “Bathroom is there,” Rick said, pointing to the narrow space between a set of the bunk beds and wardrobes. “The girls get
the bunks and counselors get these beds,” Rick added, placing my suitcases on one of the twin beds.

  I looked around, unsure of my role in the scheme of things. “Um, I’m really not all that good around kids,” I said, deciding to come clean before I was entrusted with a cabin full of girls.

  “I’m sure you’ll be a natural,” Rick said, patting my back. “There’s still a few days before the campers arrive. We’ll run you through some basic courses before they get here, CPR, first aid and a few survival classes that I make all the counselors take each year. It’s imperative to know the basic survival tips for the region you’ll be camping in,” he added before heading out the door.

  I watched his retreating back for a minute before I sank down on my bunk in disbelief. CPR, first aid and survival? The responsibility he was placing on me was nerve-racking. Trying to collect myself, I pulled out my iPhone so Carol could talk me through the crisis. I was dismayed to find no signal after sliding my finger across to unlock the screen. “Seriously, no service?” I muttered to myself as my only means of sanity disintegrated before my eyes.

  I was literally in my own personal hell.

  “Talking to yourself after being here less than fifteen minutes means you’re either a few cards shy of a full deck, or you just figured out you’re in BFN,” a tall willowy blonde said while stepping into the cabin. “Hi, I’m Amy," she said, smiling at me mischievously as she tucked a long lock of her blonde hair behind her ear.

  “I’m Kimberly,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. “BFN?”

  “Yeah, you know, Bum Fock Nowhere,” she said laughing.

  “Fock?” I asked.

  She laughed harder. “Sorry, I promised Louise I wouldn’t swear anymore,” she said, plopping down on the bunk opposite of me. “I normally swear like a frat boy, but Louise promised to help me find bargain furniture in the fall for my apartment off campus if I stopped. Key word being bargain,” she emphasized making air quotes with her fingers. “Since my funds are limited. Thank goodness I’ll be eligible for student loans, otherwise I’d be shi… oops, I mean SOL,” she corrected herself laughing. “I’m still trying to get the hang of this no-cussing gig. It’s almost like I’m learning the English language for the first time.”