Almost Perfect

by Julie Ortolon

  "I haven't spoken to Sandy since breakfast. Although Carol did ask me to tell you another bus is here."

  He looked over her head. "I see that."

  "Apparently she wanted you standing by in case they needed help unloading."

  "Carol asked you to tell me that?"

  "Yes."

  "And that's the only reason you were looking for me?"

  "Yes," she snapped irritably. "So you can relax."

  "Relax?" The line between his brows grew deeper.

  "Look, I just-" She struggled for a way to clear the air between them. This constant tension was killing her. Before she could say anything, Carol blew a whistle, reminding Maddy where she was. Looking around, she had to laugh to herself. "Never mind. This isn't the time or place."

  "For?" he asked blandly.

  She narrowed her eyes, trying to see past the blasted shades. His body remained rigid, nearly standing at attention. She made a helpless gesture with her hands. "Nothing. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do." As she turned to walk away, she muttered under her breath, "To think I was having a good day."

  "Maddy," he called after her.

  She turned back to him, waiting with no small amount of impatience. "What?"

  The muscles in his cheeks moved as if he were chewing on words. Just when she thought she would scream, he nodded and said, "Nice shoes."

  "Excuse me?" She scowled in confusion as he turned and marched away. Nice shoes? She looked down at the Keds she wore with the khaki shorts and green golf shirt the coordinators were required to wear. They were the shoes she'd bought before leaving Austin for exactly this purpose. At the last minute, though, she couldn't bring herself to put on plain white sneakers. So she'd covered them in fabric paint, creating a whole garden of bright flowers.

  Granted, they looked great, but after days of ignoring her, that's the grand total of what he had to say? Nice shoes?

  She squinted at his retreating back. Okay, so what had he really been about to tell her? "Pack your bags, you're fired"? Or "I'm miserable too, can we please talk?"

  Dread and hope played on her nerves the rest of the day. One way or another, this dance they were doing had to end. Perhaps the next time he approached her, she could try not snapping at him. If he approached her. If he didn't… she'd just have to build up the courage to approach him.

  But approach him to say what? Let's be friends? Let's be lovers? Or, let's simply stop ignoring each other?

  Joe was headed for trouble. He knew that with every step he took three days into summer camp as he set off for the Craft Shack to deliver a message to Maddy. He could easily have asked Carol to relay the message, but had he? No. Against all instincts for self-preservation, he was hiking up the trail himself, straight toward the woman he'd tried desperately to get out of his head and away from his heart.

  The problem was, a twisted thought had wormed its way into his brain. He was going to suffer no matter what happened. It was like taking that bullet in Kabul. Time had clicked into slow motion. He'd literally seen it coming and he'd known it was going to hurt like hell. But he'd also known there wasn't a damn thing he could do other than grit his teeth and wait for the impact.

  Apparently Maddy was another bullet he couldn't dodge.

  So, in the last few days, he'd finally decided that, by God, if he was taking a hit, he might as well get some enjoyment out of having her around while he waited for impact. Assuming she was even interested, which was what he'd stupidly started to ask the day the kids had arrived. Thankfully, he'd chickened out at the last minute. They had some air to clear between them before he blurted out that he'd changed his mind, that he did want to get involved with her-with a desperation that left him physically aching for her day and night.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop wanting her.

  As he reached the top of the trail, he heard children laughing. Normally the sound loosened something inside him. Today, however, his stomach remained cramped as he approached the building.

  All the shutters had been raised, allowing the mountain breeze to drift through the classroom. He zeroed in on Maddy as she moved about the room. She wore khaki shorts, as required by the camp dress code, but the green shirt with the camp logo she'd been issued had been replaced by a paint-splattered men's dress shirt tied at the waist. So much for her staying in uniform, he thought with a wry smile.

  His focus broadened enough to take in one of the cabin counselors and a couple dozen little girls. The kids looked cute as all get-out in their white camp shirts, half of them wearing red shorts for the Foxes, the other half in blue for the Bobcats. Most of them sat or knelt in chairs, diligently gluing noodles and buttons to pieces of colored paper. Two campers he remembered from the previous year chased each other about the room.

  "Amanda! Kaylee!" Maddy called, her voice calm in spite of being raised. "No running. If you're done with your pictures, you may play with the toys in the corner."

  "Teacher!" a girl he didn't recognize screeched in an octave barely audible to humans. "Rachel tored my picture!"

  "Rachel, no, no, honey." Maddy hurried over as two girls began a tug-of-war over a piece of crum-pled paper. "You mustn't tear other people's artwork."

  "But she scribbled on mine!" Rachel complained.

  "All right, all right." Maddy managed to separate them with remarkable skill. Although, stepping closer to the door, he saw her smile looked a bit frazzled. "Here, I'll get you both fresh paper."

  Down in the camp the bell clanged, signaling the end of the after-nap activity period. The art room erupted with noise as children either jumped to their feet or worked furiously to finish their pictures.

  "Wait," Maddy called over the clamor. "Be sure and sign your picture before you turn it in."

  Joe watched as Maddy and the counselor herded the children into a line at the door.

  "Hi, Joe!" Amanda waved at him.

  Hearing his name, Maddy whirled with a start, and their gazes met. Color sprang to her cheeks, as it did so frequently when she looked at him. The anger from the other day seemed to have faded, which he took as a good sign.

  A loud shriek pierced the air and she turned back to the wiggling, giggling line of little girls.

  "Okay, shhhh." She held her finger to her lips and was completely ignored. "Quiet, please. Quiet."

  "Listen up!" he ordered. Silence fell instantly. "That's better. You girls weren't giving Maddy any trouble, were you?"

  "No, sir," they assured him in chorus.

  "Good." He nodded curtly.

  Maddy sagged a bit as she cast him a grateful look, then addressed the kids. "You were all very good today. I'm proud of you. Now follow Susan down to the game field and get ready for the sack race."

  "Yea!" The girls jumped up and down. With Susan in the lead, they filed past Joe, singing, "This old man, he played one, he played knickknack on his thumb…"

  Kaylee jumped to a halt before him and planted her hands on her hips. Golden curls bounced about her chubby face. "Gueth what?"

  "What?" he asked with equal enthusiasm.

  "I loth-t a tooth." She pulled her lips back so he could admire the gap where one of her front teeth was missing.

  "Yep." He studied it with the gravity due such an auspicious occasion. "You sure did."

  Her brow puckered with a frown. "Do you think the Tooth Fairy will find me here?"

  "I absolutely guarantee it."

  "Thath what Maddy said too."

  He lifted his gaze to find Maddy watching him. Her soft expression made his chest even tighter. Looking back at Kaylee, he mussed her hair. "And she's right. Now why don't you and Amanda go win the sack race?"

  "Okay!" Kaylee raced off to catch up with the others.

  "Kaylee!" Maddy stepped into the doorway, standing so close he could smell the fresh scent of her hair. "Don't run on the trail! You'll trip and fall."

  The girl leapt over a small boulder like a relay racer and disappeared around a bend at full speed. With
a sigh, Maddy turned and slumped against the doorjamb. She eyed him for a moment, her face guarded now that they were alone. "That child is going to be the death of me."

  "Why do you think we needed a new A and C coordinator?"

  Maddy tipped her head. "Kaylee and Amanda tied the last one up and used her for target practice?"

  "Nah. They only do that to the archery instructors."

  She smiled. "Then what happened to the A and C coordinator?"

  "We're not sure." He kept his face straight. "We're still looking for the body."

  She laughed, giving him hope. What an idiot he'd been these last few days, holding her at bay. The moment stretched out as they both became aware of how close they were standing.

  She shifted uneasily. "You're very good with the children. I wish I had your knack."

  "You looked like you were holding your own."

  "Just barely." Exhaustion sounded in her sigh. "And the day isn't done. I still have to go help Sandy with the sack race as soon as I clean up this mess." She looked a little overwhelmed as she surveyed the room.

  "Actually, that's why I'm here."

  "Oh?"

  "Sandy asked me to tell you she has the races covered. So it appears you're free until dinner."

  "You're kidding."

  "Nope."

  "Thank God." She slumped further down against the doorframe. "Maybe I'll survive after all. And even sneak in some time to finish another pastel."

  "Oh? You're getting some work done?"

  "Quite a bit, actually. I've done several pieces I'm eager to show Sylvia."

  "That's good to hear." This was his opening, he realized. All he had to do was take it. Except no words came to mind.

  "Well." She straightened. "I guess I'll get this room clean, then go upstairs and work for a while."

  She left him stajiding in the doorway. He glanced back the way he'd come, knowing he still had the chance to go back down the trail and leave things as they were-stilted but safe.

  He took a deep breath, and turned back toward her. "I'd like to see them."

  "Hmm?" She looked up from the chairs she was pushing into place.

  "The pastels you've done. I'd like to see them."

  "Oh." A myriad of emotions moved over her face, from confusion to caution. Was she looking for a way to tell him no? "They're in my room," she finally said. "Would you… like to come up?"

  "I would," he said slowly as his heart raced. "Let me help you clean up."

  "That would be great." A smile blossomed across her face, lighting her eyes, and melting him inside. "Thanks."

  Yep, he was definitely headed for trouble.

  Chapter 11

  A single step can start a journey.

  – How to Have a Perfect Life

  Nerves tickled the backs of Maddy's knees as she led the way up the outside stairs. "I can't vouch for how straight the place is. I was up late last night working and just sort of stumbled out of bed this morning."

  "I promise not to write you up for slovenly behavior."

  "I'm not that bad." Her laugh came out a bit breathy as she stopped at the door. She looked up when he joined her on the landing, trying to gauge his mood. His height blocked the sun, leaving his face in shadow. Why was he here? He didn't seem angry, but he didn't seem eager to be with her either.

  "Are we going in?" he asked. One of his black brows lifted above the sunglasses that hid his eyes.

  "Of course." She opened the door, peeked in, then rushed ahead of him to toss the bed comforter into place, scoop yesterday's clothes off the floor, and snatch the bright flower-print bra off the arm of the big chair in the corner. At least the kitchen area was clean, she thought as she hurried back to the closet by the front door and threw the clothes inside.

  "There." She leaned her back against the door. "Not so bad."

  "Not bad at all." He stepped farther into the apartment, filling the small space with his broad-shouldered presence. As he removed the sunglasses, she watched him take in her decor. Since days off were scarce, she'd purchased everything in one mad shopping spree, going with jewel-tone fabrics for the bed, chair cover, tablecloth, and place mats. On the walls, she'd hung a few of the oils she'd hoped to get into a gallery, cheerful garden scenes done in vibrant colors.

  "These are good," he said, studying them.

  "Those are some of my older pieces."

  "So I assumed." He looked around again. "Where are the new pieces?"

  "I'll get them." She retrieved a large black portfolio she'd left leaning against the wall, then looked around for a surface large enough to lay it on. Seeing no other choice, she maneuvered past Joe to put it on the bed.

  He came up behind her to look over her shoulder. The nervous flutters turned to tingles of awareness at how close he stood. His scent filled her, a healthy, vital blend of soap and the outdoors.

  He reached down to turn the drawings like pages in a giant book. "Maddy, these are great." He stopped at one of the bigger pieces, which depicted the view of the canyon from her balcony at sunrise. A fiery sky blazed over the cool greens and blues of the land. "Especially this one."

  A glow of pride expanded inside her. "You really think so?"

  "Absolutely." He leaned a little closer, his chest brushing her shoulder. With a sideways glance she realized he was peering at her signature. "Just 'Madeline'? No last name?"

  She laughed. "During my die-hard feminist days I decided that last names were a stamp of male ownership. Your maiden name is your father's and your married name is your husband's. A woman's first name is the only thing that's really hers. And since my art is mine and no one else's, that's the only name that goes on it."

  "Makes sense."

  He continued nipping through images of the landscape, close-ups of wildflowers, studies of clouds in various light from bright white to blood-red. "I can see I'll need to find some more wall space after all."

  "You don't have to."

  "I want to." He said it with such conviction, she grew flustered.

  Her gaze drifted to the play of muscles in his forearms, the strength in his large hands. Her thoughts took off on their own-as they did far too often-with fantasies of his hands on her body, being naked beneath him, feeling the weight of him cover her. No doubt about it, she was definitely sex-depraved. Deprived! She meant sex-deprived.

  She pressed a hand to her forehead and realized she'd actually started to sweat.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "What?" She snatched her hand away when she found him looking at her instead of at the artwork.

  "I asked when you planned to take these by the gallery to show Sylvia."

  "Oh." Think, Maddy, think. Of something other than his body. "As soon as I can manage a trip into town."

  "Tell me when you're ready, and I'll have Mom take over your after-nap activity period. That'll give you half a day off."

  "Really? Thanks. That would be great." She told herself to step away but wound up just standing there, staring up into his dark-chocolate eyes, remembering the kiss in the truck and wondering how shocked he'd be if she asked him to kiss her again, just for the hell of it. She could assure him it didn't have to mean anything-since he'd clearly stated he didn't want to get tangled up with her again-she just desperately wanted to feel those lips on hers, feel his arms wrap tightly about her, feel the full length of his body with the full length of her own… all the way from shoulders to shins.

  Jeez, Maddy, get a grip.

  "So…" He broke the eye contact and looked around awkwardly. "I suppose I'm in the way here if you want to work." His voice went up at the end, as if asking a question rather than making a statement.

  Was he trolling for an invitation to stay? "Actually…" she hesitated. What if she was reading him wrong? Although nothing ventured, nothing gained. She took a breath and plunged ahead. "I could use a little break. Between the camp and staying up every night drawing, I haven't had much down time to just relax. Would you… care to sit on the balcon
y a while? I could open a bottle of faux wine."

  "Faux wine?" Amusement danced in his eyes.

  "Well, it does say in our contract that we aren't allowed to drink any alcohol while camp is in session, but I can only take so much coffee, iced tea, and cola in one day, so I just thought- Never mind. I'm rambling." Embarrassed laughter bubbled out. "And I'm sure you're busy, so-"

  "I'd love a glass of wine."

  "Oh?" She straightened in surprise. "Well. Okay, then. Why don't you have a seat on the balcony and I'll get it."

  "Do you need help?"

  "No, no." What she needed was a moment to compose herself. "I'll get it. You go…" She waved her hands. "Sit."

  "Yes, ma'am." His lips quirked with a smile as he complied.

  Plucking at her shirt to cool herself off, she put the portfolio away, then went to the cabinet and wrestled the cork from a bottle. She filled two plastic cups, fanned her cheeks for good measure, and went to join him on the balcony. She found him standing at the wall, looking out over the camp. As if sensing her presence, he turned and smiled at her-one of his slow, melting smiles that turned her to mush.

  Flustered, she stepped forward, extending one of the cups. "Here you go."

  "Thanks." Their fingers touched as he took it from her, sending a little jolt through her. He looked down at his cup, then back at her. "Well, we've come a long way, from drinking hard liquor when we were underage to froufrou grape juice just so we can follow the rules."

  "All part of growing up." She laughed. "But it does seem strange."

  "I feel like we should drink to something."

  She longed to say: To new beginnings. To starting over. To second chances. But the words stuck in her throat. Was he simply aiming for renewing their truce, or something more? Was she ready for more? Casual dating, yes. But nothing about this situation felt casual.

  "I know," he finally said. "To your art career."

  "Oh no, don't jinx it!"

  "What?" He frowned.

  "A toast like that without a lot of wood to knock on would be chancy enough. But to make it with fake wine in plastic cups? No."

  "Very well." He held his cup out. "To nothing."