“Sounds good. I’m off at three.”
He gives me his grunt-nod combo that lets me know we’ve reached the end of that conversation. My stepmom’s demanding career as a financial consultant is not something he brings up often, and he certainly doesn’t dwell on it.
With her staying in her loft apartment in Spokane weekdays, and coming home only on the weekends, they have spent more time apart than together since they got hitched. I used to feel bad for Jill until I spent that first Christmas with the two of them under the same roof for four days. It is in everyone’s best interest for that mother-daughter duo to live apart, but the separation isn’t fair to my dad, especially after all that he has been through. He deserves better, even if he doesn’t know it.
I stop at the table to give him a gruff kiss on the cheek as I pass him on my way to the door. A picture of a gray wolf on the front page of the paper grabs my attention, and I ask, “A wolf attack?”
“Hmm?” Dad glances down at the article. “Oh, no. The game commission thinks there may be another pack that has moved into the area.”
“Another pack? There isn’t enough territory for another pack,” I point out.
I can’t help but wonder if my experience two nights ago—assuming it happened the way I remember—was a wolf version of gang wars.
Dad shrugs, clearly not concerned. Only because he doesn’t know what happened to me, and I intend to keep it that way. “Got your pepper spray?”
I snatch my keys from the counter and give the bag dangling near my hip an affectionate pat. “Never go anywhere without it.”
Dad’s gaze briefly drifts to my shorts, and he grunts. “How about some boy repellant?”
I roll my eyes as I walk away. “Later, Dad.”
“Make smart choices,” he calls before I walk out the door—as he does nearly every morning.
I know he thinks he has something to worry about, but he doesn’t. I guess I’m considered kind of pretty by boy standards, but I don’t exactly have them beating down the door. Dad says it’s only a matter of time. He believes it to be inevitable because I look so much like my mother.
That’s what he thinks. Since she died when I was five, and I don’t remember what she looked like, I have no choice but to take his word on it. I only have one faded picture of her tucked away safely on my bookshelf between my two favorite books. Despite the poor quality of the photo, my mother’s beauty is evident. A girl could only be so lucky to resemble her, but no matter how many times I study her face, I fail to see the resemblance.
I turn the volume up on the car radio to push thoughts of my mom out of my head before the memory of her death impacts my good mood. It’s my first day back to work, and I’m excited to kick off another summer.
The drive to Hilderness takes me ten minutes. Situated at the base of the mountain that borders Castien Valley to the south, it is the more popular of the two campgrounds.
We have everything: tent and RV sites, cabins, playgrounds and activities for the kids, a waterpark with a swimming pool and a new slide put in two summers ago, a paintball battle zone, mini-golf, hiking trails, a fishing pond, a restaurant, and a store. We welcome families back year after year. Despite the Hooter’s waitress-inspired shorts the owner insists that the girls wear, it’s an awesome place to work. The pay is decent, and shifts pass quickly.
Unless you’re unlucky enough to be assigned to the store, where time stops.
“You’re in the store today,” I hear when I walk into the office to punch in.
“Wha—” I spin around. “I just got here. It’s my first day back. I haven’t done anything to warrant the punishment.”
Danny Laird, who is normally my favorite manager, smiles from his seat behind the check-in counter. “I know, but you weren’t here yesterday.”
“Because you didn’t schedule me,” I remind him.
“That is true.” He jabs a finger at me. “But I had no way of knowing the employees were going to come up with a new system. The last one to punch in for every shift gets the store.” His smile turns sympathetic. “That would be you today.”
“You’re the manager,” I gripe. “Why are you letting them control the assignments?”
He shrugs. “I actually like not being the bad guy.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You were my favorite boss.”
“I still am, sweetheart.” He gives me an impish smile. “No one likes Cassie.”
“I will be her new best friend if she doesn’t dump me in the store,” I grumble as I toss my bag into an empty locker.
“We both know that’s not going to happen.” Danny tsks before bounding in his seat. His shaggy brown hair falls in his eyes, and he swipes it aside. “Oh! You weren’t here yesterday.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve already established that.” I turn to him with a knowing smirk. There are only two things that turn him into a giddy, braindead mess. Cute boys or drama. I’m afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “What happened yesterday?”
“We finally got someone to rent number eight,” he starts, and I know he’s only hooking me for the big, exciting news to follow.
Eight is one of the few rustic campsites we offer now, at a time when people want full-service camping. It is the farthest site from all of the amenities, and rarely rented. Whoever got it must be a real nature enthusiast, and must not mind spending the week scratching their poison-ivy covered rear end.
“Did they get eaten by a bear this morning?” I play along with Danny.
“No.” His eyes widen excitedly. “There are three of them.”
“Three . . . what?”
“Oh. Only the hottest guys I have ever seen in my life,” he tells me with enough enthusiasm to rival Vienna most days.
“That’s it?” I smile.
“That’s it?” he repeats indignantly. “Girl, you haven’t seen them yet. The whole crew is salivating over them. Especially Mel. I think she went out and bought a tighter pair of shorts this morning.”
I grimace. “She was already wearing a size too small.”
“The girl is motivated.” Danny shrugs.
“Let me know how it turns out.” I shut my locker with a sigh. “I’m off to the store, apparently.”
Danny grumbles, clearly thrown off by my lack of interest in the latest gossip. He grabs a sheet of paper, a small water gun, and a handful of red flags from under the counter and hands them to me. “This week’s theme.”
I glance at the paper with a groan. “Water Wars? Again?”
“It was a hit last year,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, because the girls were working in wet T-shirts all day.”
“So old man Hilderness is a pervert?” Danny shrugs. “What else is new?”
“You only say that because you don’t have to tolerate his sexual harassment,” I grumble.
“I put up with plenty of shit from the owner, but the man is depressingly straight,” Danny sighs. “He has no interest in me.”
“What about those three super-hot campers at eight? Any of them shop in your department?” I back out the door with a laugh.