2. Darcy
DARCY
Darcy let out an anguished sigh. Thank God the first day of camp counselor orientation was over. Heart still pounding, she walked along the length of the clubhouse past the craft tent where she’d try not to strangle herself with lanyards, to the picnic tables where she’d have to watch kids chew with their mouths open all summer. She dumped her backpack down beside another and climbed atop one of the tables. From there she could see the tennis courts where her brother, Adam, was having a lesson. All she wanted was to go home.
Coming back to Mayhaven since quitting golf had felt almost impossible. It was funny how a place you loved so hard for so long could suddenly be a place you wanted to avoid at all costs. But her father needed help. She needed a summer job, and the pay was good. And while quitting the sport was her choice, she’d come to realize that her father’s job as club president prevented her from avoiding it altogether. It was just the way it was.
Despite the fact she’d rather spend her days at the beach than entertaining a bunch of snooty eight-year-olds with monogrammed golf bags, there was the very not-stupid fact of Spencer Delancey.
Spencer was a senior and arguably the hottest guy at their high school; he was also the son of the board chairman, Dick Delancey, her father’s archnemesis. But that wasn’t Spencer’s fault, and Darcy certainly wasn’t going to hold it against him. Working with Spencer all summer was the biggest reason she’d agreed to take the job at all.
By eight AM , she was pulling her beater Toyota into the club parking lot alongside the other counselors’ cars, all luxury hand-me-downs from their parents. At least her hair was cooperating today. And there was the fun fact that she’d convinced her best friend, Lily, to work with her. It hadn’t been easy. Lily’s family were not members and the job was traditionally reserved for teens whose families belonged. But that fact had actually worked in Darcy’s favor: when Lily knew she wasn’t allowed to do something, she only wanted to do it more.
“I don’t know, there are a lot of applicants this year,” Darcy had lied, hiding her pleasure when Lily’s eyes flashed stubbornly. They had been sitting on her bed, lamenting the fact that their summer beach-time hours would be wasted by the jobs their parents expected them to get.
“Can’t your dad help get me in?” Lily had asked. “I love kids.”
Darcy had smirked. “You hate kids.” Then, after a dramatic pause, “I’ll ask him, but no promises.”
Darcy didn’t relish playing her best friend like that, but she needed Lily if she was going to survive a summer at Mayhaven. What Lily didn’t know was that the job was open to anyone with a pulse; there just weren’t enough teenage members to fill the openings.
From listening in on her parents’ conversations, Darcy had gleaned that club membership was down. Like, by a lot. It was one of the big reasons her father was promoted as president that year. The board saw him as a family man with community ties to the schools, and that meant fresh young blood. In recent years, Mayhaven had been unsuccessful in attracting new young families. It didn’t help that the majority of the membership belonged to a bunch of old people who toddled to their golf carts and saddled up at the bar for their old-fashioneds at the end of a round. But whatever the reason, saving the club would now fall to her father. No pressure, or anything.
Having pretty much grown up at the club, Darcy knew her place. It had taken her dad years to work his way up from groundskeeper to president. The way he saw it, his employment there allowed their family access to all the marvels of the club: the barbecues, the Fourth of July fireworks, the themed parties. She’d learned the game of tennis, which she didn’t love, and the game of golf, which she had. Even though she’d quit, she could still outdrive any man on any hole if she felt like it. But in spite of all that, Darcy had never felt like she belonged. Because, let’s face it, they never had.
In the early days, Darcy had been the daughter of the groundskeeper. As such, she got to participate in the junior golf club. She and her father would golf together before or after hours, and in the offseason when they could. When her father was promoted to assistant manager, there were more perks: her family dressed up for the Fourth of July barbecue and fireworks. They attended the occasional concert on the lawn or the lobster bake over Memorial Day weekend. But once he was promoted to president, Ned Birch wanted his family present. It was not a show, Darcy knew her father was terribly proud of his family and wanted them to share in the riches (as he saw it) that Mayhaven offered. But she never felt like she was on the inside. Even when she led the junior golf league to victory, even when she was asked to join the adults during their scrambles because they coveted her talent and needed her handicap. At the end of the day, Mayhaven belonged to its members. Membership was not something the Birches could afford.
Still, when she got out of bed that morning for camp orientation, she decided she’d try to make the most of it. It wasn’t so bad. She tried not to look at the first hole, once her favorite. She took the long way through the clubhouse, avoiding the pro shop. The morning had gone by uneventfully enough, and by lunch the only interesting thing was the proximity of their picnic table to a group of college kids, home for the summer. They were the ones who got the cool positions, like lifeguarding. Among them was Spencer Delancey. Fittingly, he’d snagged one of the lifeguard jobs.
Lily sucked on her yogurt spoon as she stared at their table. “Imagine Spencer in his lifeguard shorts.”
“Oh my God, Lily. Stop ,” Darcy had hissed. But who could blame Lily? Spencer was gorgeous, with his thick, sandy-blond hair and already-golden skin. His broad physique made him look more like one of the college kids, and given his seat at their picnic table, they seemed to agree. She stole a look behind them at Tommy Green, a fellow junior at their school. Tommy was a textbook bully who openly ogled the girls in their grade and made their skin crawl. So far, he’d spent lunch bragging loudly to the other assholes at his table that his father was giving him his Porsche as soon as he passed his driver’s test that month. Darcy looked away as he chugged his root beer, belched, and tried unsuccessfully to crush the can on his forehead. The Porsche wasn’t looking very likely.
There was one last orientation class for the afternoon: the dreaded water safety class, required for all counselors who’d be taking campers down to the lake. They gathered down on the beach and went through the basics: life jacket use, how to identify a swimmer in distress, and a basic swim test that Darcy easily passed. When they finished early Darcy was excited to go, but the camp director, Mr. Potts, had a less than brilliant idea. “There’s twenty minutes left to kill. How about we end the day with a little lifeguard challenge?”
Everybody roared and clapped, as if this was the best thing they’d ever heard. “This is outside our official training,” Mr. Potts admitted, blowing his whistle again. “But let’s have fun with it.” Darcy suspected everyone there preferred the kind of fun that was outside official training.
They were divided into two groups, blue and red, for Mayhaven colors. Of course, Darcy got called for reds, Lily for blues.
“Shit, we aren’t in the same group.” Lily groaned.
The worst was yet to come. Mr. Potts nodded at Spencer. “Delancey, you take the reds. Pick a victim.”
What happened next was pure humiliation. Whatever the victim thing meant, Darcy had no desire to be involved. It was bad enough she wasn’t even wearing her good swimsuit.
She feigned boredom as Spencer’s eyes roamed over each member of his team.
“I hate to say it, but it’s actually easier if I pick a girl.” His gaze halted between her and a new girl.
Darcy flinched. “Why is that?”
Spencer shrugged. “Because I have to carry whoever it is, and you two are smaller than these idiots.” He nodded to the boys, who laughed and elbowed each other like they’d won something. They sort of had.
“So which one of you wants to be my victim?” Spencer’s cornflower blue eyes blazed through her.
There were a lot of things Darcy might want to be when it came to Spencer Delancey, but this was not one of them.
Apparently the new girl felt the same way. She looked at Darcy and shook her head.
Darcy shook her head back, but the new girl looked so flushed and terrified she finally relented. “Fine.”
Mr. Potts spit into his whistle. “Blue team! Who’d you pick?”
The other team’s lifeguard, Kate, gestured to a floppy-haired boy on her team. “I picked Rob.” Of course, that lifeguard had no trouble picking a boy who, Darcy also noted, wasn’t exactly smaller than she was. Darcy had to give it to her: Kate had balls.
Mr. Potts turned to Spencer. “Red team?”
Spencer opened his mouth but then shut it.
“Red! Who’s your victim?” Mr. Potts barked.
Spencer looked at Darcy blankly. “I picked… this girl.”
Darcy felt her face turn tomato. He’d victimized her and he didn’t even know her name.
She thought about making a break for the clubhouse, claim ing a headache. Or a cramp. Because let’s face it, puking was totally in the realm of probability.
But then she thought of her father and how stressed he looked lately. And… the fact that Spencer had picked her, even if he didn’t know her name. She glanced over at Lily’s group; lucky Lily was sitting on the sand, completely unvictimized.
“Okay,” Spencer said. “Let’s go.”
Darcy’s heart pounded harder. “What exactly do I have to do?”
“Just wade out into the water. Then pretend to drown. It’s just for fun.”
“Drowning is fun?” She heard Tommy Green guffaw be-hind her.
“Relax,” Spencer said, peeling his shirt off. “It’s just a little competition.”
“Right.” Darcy averted her gaze from Spencer’s bronze chest, void of hair and flush with definition. She wasn’t going to drown in the lake. She was going to die right there on the sand.
“Or you could really drown,” Tommy chortled.
Darcy threw him a murderous look. No, she would not hightail it back up the hill to the safety of the clubhouse. She would not give these morons the satisfaction. It took everything she had, but she turned her back to them and tugged her T-shirt over her head.
Adding insult to injury, was her bathing suit situation. She’d meant to wear her favorite, a pale blue bikini dotted with daisies that enhanced her figure in a way God hadn’t—at least not yet. But despite tearing her room apart earlier that morning, she could only find the bottoms.
So there she was, with her daisy bottoms and an old white top that did absolutely nothing for her. Or, apparently, for Spencer, whose gaze swept right past her pale body as he headed for the rescue board.
Lily caught her eye as she trailed after him in her death march to the water. The water was freezing cold in mid-June. Rob, the other team’s victim, blew past, splashing like a Labrador retriever. Darcy bit her lip to keep from screaming.
“Keep going, Birch,” Mr. Potts shouted.
Darcy Birch. Daughter of Ned Birch, president, but not a member at Mayhaven. A position that placed her in the neverland of belonging, but not really.
Gritting her teeth, she stalked through the icy brown water to where Rob was treading like a cheerful idiot.
“Ready?” Mr. Potts shouted.
No, Darcy was not ready. She had not been ready to strip down on the sand in front of the whole summer camp staff. She was not ready to flail like a fool; surely there was no other way to do it. And she would never, ever be ready for Spencer Delancey to charge into the water to “rescue” her. She would seriously rather die .
The whistle blew. There was the splash and surge of lake water as both guards raced in. Kate paddled toward them in the lead. Beside her, Rob splashed about, giving it his all. Darcy threw her hands overhead and pretended to be sinking. She would not do more.
And then everything happened fast. Kate reached Rob first, but only a second before Spencer swam up to Darcy. He thrust the red buoy toward her, and she reached for it. Before she knew what happened, he flipped her on her back and Darcy found herself staring skyward. One muscled arm pulled her up against him. Even in the freezing water, his bare side radiated heat against her skin. “Okay,” he puffed in her ear. “I’m going to bring you in. Just relax.”
Darcy froze, blinking up at the cloudless sky as he tugged her toward shore. Water splashed into her mouth, his elbow brushed her breast. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. And then she was being whisked up out of the water, onto the cold, hard board, the warmth of his skin gone.
When Spencer dragged the board up onto the sand, Darcy lay there stunned. Everyone was cheering and clapping. Lily’s face appeared over her own. “You won! You guys won!”
Darcy sat up, swiping her wet hair from her face, tugging her bikini back in place. The sun was in her eyes as she squinted up at all the faces staring down at her. There, in the center, was Spencer Delancey’s. He held his hand out to her and she took it. He tugged her to her feet, and let go too soon.
“Nice work,” he said. And then he was gone, dragging the board back up the sand as others crowded about and congratulated him.
Lily threw a towel around her shoulders. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you had to do that. You are so brave. I would’ve died, I mean actually died.” She looked deeply into Darcy’s eyes. “Did you want to die?”
Now, as Darcy watched Adam leave the tennis courts, she shivered at the recollection. Adam surged up to her. “Darcy. It’s time. Let’s go.”
“How was your lesson?” Despite being nearly two years younger, Adam had shot up that year, and was now level with her gaze.
His sandy hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed by his lesson. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
Adam didn’t like to wait. Schedules were everything. His lesson ended at four o’clock. If they left on time (which was important) they’d be home by four-fifteen. There, he’d shower, change, and play video games until dinner. It was Wednesday, which meant “Red day.” Adam’s nightly dinners were organized by color, which meant the whole family’s dinners were, too. Red meant spaghetti and meatballs and red beets and, if there was dessert, red velvet cake. The color-assigned days never changed, which meant the menu never changed. It was how it went with Adam.
Darcy repeated her question patiently. “Did you have a good lesson?” It was what their mother said the whole family needed to reinforce, after his latest therapy session. Adam had a number of therapists. Sometimes Darcy wondered if her mother ever grew tired of it, if she’d like to skip a speech session and just drive to the town beach on a nice day, or whip up tacos for dinner, on a Wednesday. Her mother was pretty as mothers go; they shared the same curly dark hair and wide green eyes. But lately those eyes looked tired.
Adam grunted, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other.
Gently, Darcy touched his arm. Adam didn’t like to be touched, but with her, he never recoiled. “Tell me one thing about your lesson, Adam. Then we can go.”
Adam’s gaze swerved impatiently to the sky, and he chewed his bottom lip. “One thing.” He blinked as he thought. “Molly said my backswing was good.”
“That’s great,” Darcy told him. “Now we can go home.” She was proud of Adam.
“Oh no!” Adam’s face clouded. He looked around frantically.
“What? What is it?”
“My water bottle.” Adam began to jig from one foot to another. “It’s gone!”
Adam used the same green stainless steel bottle each day. “It’s okay, we’ll find it. Let’s check inside your bag.”
As she rummaged through it, Adam winced as if in pain.
“When was the last time you had it?”
He shook his head irritably. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Did you use it during your lesson?” If she didn’t help him locate it ASAP, she was going to have a full meltdown on her hands. It was late in the day, and Adam’s patience waned with the sun.
“Wait.” Adam squinted toward the courts. “I see it!”
Darcy exhaled with relief. “Run and get it, I’ll wait here.” She sank back down onto the picnic table. Thank God , she thought, closing her eyes. When she heard the return of footsteps moments later she opened her eyes. Only, it wasn’t Adam. It was Spencer Delancey heading her way.
Darcy jerked upright.
“Sleeping on the job?” Spencer slowed just long enough to scoop up his backpack from the picnic table. As he swung it over his shoulder, he locked eyes with her. And smiled. “See ya tomorrow, Birch.”
“See ya,” Darcy managed to squeak back.
She kept her eyes trained straight ahead and counted to thirty before she dared a glance over her shoulder. Spencer was climbing into a BMW, a car as blue as his eyes. Darcy spun around before he caught her.
Adam returned in a flurry, gripping his green water bottle. “Why are you smiling like that? You look weird. Let’s go.”
But Darcy didn’t mind. Spencer Delancey remembered her name.