Chapter Twelve
Savannah hit the water with her mouth open.
A choking gulp of briny seawater rushed down her throat as she plummeted beneath the surface.
She kicked furiously, churning bubbles all around her while her Adidas sneakers felt like two cement blocks weighing her down.
But she didn’t burst through the foam right away.
She saw her next country club visit before her eyes: Abi’s smug smile as she flashed her Hermès Picto Kelly Doll handbag, waved her freshly manicured, gold-leaf-inlaid nails at Savannah only to say, “I thought you’d hang on longer.
Didn’t you say you were going to Pilates? I guess those sessions didn’t pay off.”
Savannah would never hear the end of it. She would forever be the contestant who lasted less than five minutes in the hang challenge.
For a fleeting, desperate second, Savannah genuinely considered just letting her waterlogged shoes drag her down to the abyss, but the sheer amount of trapped air in her padded sports bra and the natural buoyancy of her lungs sent her upward.
She popped above the water like a cork, coughing and hacking.
“FIRST CONTESTANT OUT OF THE CHALLENGE IS... SAVANNAH!” Naomi yelled.
“I’m so sorry!” Savannah said to Amy, who was still hanging on for dear life. “I honestly thought I could hold on longer.”
“Don’t worry,” Amy said, smiling. Not a smidgen of anger showed in her soft features. Had Savannah expected differently? “It happens to the best of us. It’s always the challenges we think we’ll manage that we don’t.”
Savannah smiled as she dragged wet strands of her hair out of her face and was just about to float on her back when Naomi called, “COME ON OUT!” She gestured toward the bench on the beach and then directed her attention back to the remaining contestants.
“IT’S UP TO AMY TO HOLD ON IF THEY WANT TO WIN THE CHALLENGE! ”
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the others to crumble.
By the time Savannah sat down, the hot sun had already begun drying her skin.
Then Erica lost her grip and tumbled into the water.
Jade went next, her fingers giving out with a shrill yelp as she plunged backward.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Maya Lin followed shortly after, hitting the water with the tiniest splash ever.
“I would’ve held on for longer, but a sandfly literally flew directly into my eye. I think it might’ve scratched my cornea,” Maya muttered when she reached the bench.
“You should get Maurine to check it out,” Savannah said, amused. There was no way a sandfly made it all the way out there. As far as she remembered, sandflies preferred wind-free areas and stayed near the shoreline. But who was she to judge? She didn’t even last five minutes.
“TWENTY MINUTES HAVE COME AND GONE!” Naomi announced.
Amy suddenly shifted, and Savannah held her breath. But then Amy simply hitched her knees higher against the beam, reset her grip, and Savannah exhaled in relief. Thank goodness.
“Sleeping on the ground isn’t that bad,” Kate muttered through her teeth. She’d just moved from holding onto the pole with the inside of her elbows to gripping it with her hand. She looked like she was about to pass out.
“I agree,” Luna said, sounding equally wrecked. “I think the sand is actually straightening out my writer’s hunch. A mattress might set me back.”
“Should we?” Kate asked.
“After you,” Luna muttered. Then they dropped together in an explosion of foam.
“AVERY, EZRA, AMY AND—”
Wyn suddenly shrieked. Then her hands slid clean off the wood. She dropped into the water a mere second later.
“WYN IS OUT!” Naomi called. “ALMOST THIRTY MINUTES AND WE ONLY HAVE THREE CONTESTANTS LEFT!”
Savannah wondered how long they would last. The heat beating down on her back was relentless.
It baked the saltwater right into her skin.
She could only imagine how hard it must be for Amy.
Just as she was about to shout a word of encouragement, Avery’s arms started shaking, and not just a little.
She was shaking violently. “My biceps tendonitis is flaring up!” Yet she didn’t let go.
The doctor stuck with it for another ten minutes before her arms gave way.
“AND AVERY IS OUT AT THE FORTY-MINUTE MARK!” Naomi declared. “AMY AND EZRA...” Savannah spotted Ezra readjusting her grip on the beam, but then somehow her fingers loosened in the shift, and she slipped. She plunged into the ocean with a splash.
“AND THAT’S IT!” Naomi roared, throwing her arms in the air. “AMY WINS!”
Amy didn’t simply fall backward as the others had.
She launched herself backward into a backflip.
Whoa! Savannah watched with her jaw nearly on the floor as Amy hit the water flawlessly, only to pop back up a second later.
Then she walked out of the surf with a grin so wide it looked like her face might split open.
It took almost everything Savannah had not to charge toward her and jump into her arms.
“I just kept imagining Brutus and Nero were waiting for me,” Amy said when she reached the rest of them at the bench.
“Who?” Savannah asked, frowning, smiling, and laughing all at once. They’d won. They’d won the fricken reward challenge and tonight...
All of a sudden, Amy threw her arms around Savannah’s neck and squeezed her so tightly that Savannah’s breath hitched in her chest. In fact, she wasn’t breathing at all.
At least not for a good ten seconds. Then she got a mouthful of Amy’s wet curls and finally inhaled Amy’s salty sea scent.
Amy’s body was warm despite the water. Her arms were surprisingly strong, considering they were probably exhausted.
But Amy held onto Savannah, and Savannah did nothing to fight it. On the contrary, she couldn’t let go.
“Two Dobermans,” Amy said, letting her go. “It’s a long story.”
Savannah didn’t get a chance to ask. Naomi suddenly clapped loudly and declared, “Amy and Savannah are the winners of the camp comfort kit.”
SAVANNAH COULD FEEL the dreaded, unmistakable sensation of feelings settling in.
They weren’t the slow, time-appropriate romantic feelings people usually developed after three to four dates.
They were the terrifying kind that hit like a sudden drop on a rollercoaster.
It was a bright, burning, uninvited spark that took root right in Savannah’s center and made her heart race for all the wrong reasons.
Amy Sandler wasn’t even her type. A librarian?
A moderately popular romance author? It wasn’t her typical match.
She stared at the back of Amy’s head as they hiked along the sun-dappled trail back to camp.
Every time a beam of light hit the damp curls clinging to Amy’s shoulder, Savannah’s pulse did a frantic little tap dance.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Amy’s arms around her neck, about her warm, wet skin pressed against her own.
Savannah was falling, and she was falling fast.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Luna gasped from the front of the line. The author stopped in her tracks and shook her head so furiously that her dark bob swished against her cheeks. “It’s not just a bed. It’s fricken lavish.”
“How lavish?” Jade asked, pushing past Ezra and Wyn until she got to the end of the tree line. Then she gasped so loudly a bird startled and swooped from its perch.
Savannah grinned, and for the first time since Amy had unwrapped her arms from Savannah’s neck, she could pretend those feelings didn’t exist. Nothing distracted quite like the prospect of soft down pillows and clean, crisp linen.
“We should’ve fought harder,” Kate said, sounding incredibly miserable as they plodded onto the beach. “What were we thinking? Of course a king-sized bed is better than fricken sand.”
“Face it, you were never going to win that challenge. Neither was Luna,” Wyn added, slinging her arm around Kate’s shoulders.
Kate huffed, then Luna said something Savannah couldn’t catch, but she didn’t care.
All she cared about in that moment was the slice of heaven standing in front of her.
About fifty yards from the lean-to was a walnut pencil-post bed.
It was dressed up in crisp, gazillion-thread-count white linens that looked softer than a cloud.
There were four oversized accent pillows, two in a bumpy cream-colored bouclé and two in a burnt orange weave.
A mosquito net was tied to the sides of the bed, and chunky brass lanterns swung from the high corner posts.
Draped across the foot of the mattress was an oatmeal-colored waffle-knit throw.
It was completely impractical for the heat, yet impossibly inviting.
It was breathtaking. It was decadent. And even better, there was food.
Resting right in the center was a pair of wicker basket trays.
One held a towering crystal pitcher of sparkling mimosas and two thin, elegant flutes.
The other held plates piled high with golden, flaky croissants that made Savannah literally weep.
Next to the pastries were thick slices of French toast dusted with a snowstorm of powdered sugar, glass parfaits of velvety Greek yogurt, sliced ruby-red dragon fruit, wedges of golden mango, and a cluster of ripe blackberries.
Savannah’s mouth was literally watering. It was a miracle drool wasn’t spilling over her bottom lip. “Amy, I don’t know how two Dobermans taught you how to hang from a pole, but I’m so glad they did,” she said, shaking her head.
Amy cackled, then skipped straight toward the bed, kicking up sand. Savannah gave Luna, whose frown literally reached the edge of her jaw, and Kate, who looked like someone had stolen one of her Academy Awards, a sympathetic look. Though was she even sympathetic? No. Of course not.