3. Casey
three
Casey
A pril 21
I gripped the armrest as Oliver turned onto a narrow road that our GPS said led to Camp Eagle Ridge, suddenly nervous about working so far out in the middle of nowhere. Who were these people, and why had they lured me out here into the forest?
The towering evergreens lining the road were blanketed in snow, their branches sagging under the weight. There were no buildings in sight, just the vast wilderness, a stark reminder of how far I was out of my comfort zone.
Oliver slowed as the pavement became snow-packed, and I glanced at him. “Is this okay?”
"The roads are slick, but we have good tires," Oliver muttered, leaning forward to peer through the windshield.
I swallowed hard. "Maybe we should turn back? I mean, I could always do a job in the city like I'd planned…"
Oliver shot me an exasperated look. "Casey, we've already driven for hours to get here. We're not turning back now."
"Fine," I sighed. "But if we slide off the road and freeze to death, I'm blaming you."
"Yeah, it’s my fault we came up here," Oliver snorted. After a moment, he added, "You know, you should get more comfortable driving. I'm not sure I want to make this trip every few weeks just for your job."
I bristled at that. "I can drive! I just... choose not to."
"Uh-huh. And why's that again?"
"Because other drivers are maniacs!" I exclaimed, waving my arms. "Have you seen the way people drive in the city? It's like Mad Max out there."
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Are you sure it’s the other guys who are the maniacs?"
"Shut up," I grumped, crossing my arms over my chest. “That one time, in the parking lot, that old lady almost backed into me, and then SHE yelled at me!”
“That happened three years ago!”
“The trauma is not processed yet! I’ll drive after I have a few more years of therapy,” I said, not wanting to admit he had a point. What if he had plans? I glanced at my brother.
Okay, he probably wouldn’t have plans, but still.
I stared out the front window, growing more jittery with each passing mile. What if this job was a huge mistake? What if they were murderers?
I pushed my hair out of my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. No matter what happened, at least I was taking a chance on something I believed in. And I had to keep my eyes on the prize — camp director Sutton.
As we rounded a sharp corner, the trees parted to reveal a breathtaking vista. A vast, crystalline lake stretched before us, its surface a mirror reflecting snow-capped mountains that pierced the sky. The sheer majesty of it hit me like a punch to the gut.
Oliver gasped.
“Oh shit, are we going to die?” I screamed, clutching the armrests.
My brother rolled his eyes. "Relax, drama queen. Why would we die?”
“You gasped.”
“I was gasping in wonder at the view." He waved his hand at the big, snow-covered lake, glistening in the sun like it was covered in glitter.
"Oh. Um, yeah. Don’t gasp while you’re driving in the snow. Didn’t Mom ever teach you that?"
Oliver snorted. "How is it possible we grew up in the same family? Look at how gorgeous the mountains are behind the lake."
I stuck my tongue out at him. "Excuse me, I have plenty of appreciation for views and trees and stuff. I just prefer to appreciate nature from indoors, next to a cozy fire, while drinking a nice drink." I paused, a dreamy smile spreading across my face. "Preferably with a sexy man like Sutton by my side."
Oliver laughed, and we came around a bend to find a big parking area and a log-cabin-style lodge, covered in snow that would look perfect on a Christmas card.
My stomach did a little flip. This was it. I was about to see Sutton again. I flipped open the visor mirror and checked my hair as Oliver climbed out of the Prius, stretching his arms above his head. I followed, blinking at the bright sun.
Instead of the stunning assistant director, a tall, dark-haired man emerged from the building, lifting a hand in a casual wave as he jogged down the porch steps. Matt. Still wearing a man bun and hiking boots, though I supposed they looked more appropriate here.
My heart sank.
"Glad you could make it!" Matt called out, his blue eyes twinkling as his eyes landed on Oliver. "And you must be the younger brother."
Oliver stuck out his hand. “Oliver. I’m essentially Casey’s driver, whether I like it or not,” my traitor of a brother said. “He has a tendency to crash cars.”
“I do not crash. That much,” I hissed, elbowing my brother. “Just the one time with the butterfly who was out to kill me… And the…” I trailed off, realizing Matt was staring at me, brows up. Better not tell him about the chihuahua incident.
“Well, thank you for making sure he got here safely,” Matt said, giving Oliver’s hand a firm shake. Then he gave me a salute. “I appreciate that you’re so willing to protect him from errant butterflies. And it’s good to see you, Casey.”
I blinked in confusion. Why was he acting happy to see me? I'd torn his head off over the camp's lack of an arts program. Surely he found me irritating.
Matt looked every inch the stereotype of a lumberjack, or maybe a lumbersexual hipster. From his messy man bun to his neatly trimmed beard, to the flannel shirt and Patagonia puffy vest, he was like a walking REI catalog. I half expected him to whip out a chainsaw from behind his back and offer to chop our firewood for us.
Which made me wonder, if chainsaws existed, why were men always using axes to chop wood? Was it just so they could flex their muscles on Instagram?
"Um, thanks," I mumbled, realizing I’d never answered. "Where's Sutton?"
Matt smiled. "Sutton is on vacation in Hawaii this week. He and his fiancé, Ben, are taking a break from the cold weather and checking out a possible wedding venue. It’s a little extravagant, but I’m not going to complain if they want to get married in Hawaii. I’m the best man, after all.”
Wait, what? “He has his cranky boss as his best man?”
Matt tilted his head, frowning. “No, I’ll be on the other side of the aisle. Ben is my stepbrother. And I don’t think I’m cranky.”
“Well, it sounds fun to me. You get to go to a beach, AND skip out on wearing a tux? Win-win,” Oliver said, looking uncomfortable.
Matt laughed. “Right? I’m sure you’ll be shocked to learn that I don’t even own a tux.”
As Matt and my brother made more tux jokes, I stood there, spinning. Sutton had a boyfriend? But... but Sutton was supposed to be here! Sutton's hotness was the whole reason I'd agreed to come to this camp in the middle of fucking nowhere! I considered turning on my heel and marching right back to the car. What was even the point of being here without Sutton's biceps to ogle?
A cool gust of wind slammed into us, blowing snow into my face, and I yelped as my hair whipped at my forehead. “What the hell, even the wind is out to get me?”
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked up to find Matt and Oliver both staring at me. Matt had a little grin playing around his lips, like maybe he was trying to stop himself from laughing at me.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave a little shiver. "Well, enough standing around outside. Come on in, guys! I've got some hot coffee and soup waiting inside. And Casey, I can't wait to hear more about those ideas you mentioned last week!"
I’d mentioned ideas? There had been so much yelling, I wasn't quite sure.
I watched as Matt jogged up the porch steps, his athletic frame moving with an easy grace that was... distracting for a lumberjack. Shaking my head to clear it, I turned to Oliver, my eyes wide with panic.
"I didn’t prepare any ideas," I hissed, grabbing his arm.
Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose, a telltale sign he was trying not to laugh at me. "So? Just tell him. He seems nice," he whispered back, tugging me towards the steps. "Why were you yelling at him at the job fair last week?"
I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. "I wasn't yelling," I muttered. "I was... passionately expressing my opinions on the need for arts and music at his camp."
“Well then. I suppose he’s expecting some ideas for that.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to bring them today. I pictured…” Nope, better not mention the daydreams about Sutton cuddling up naked by a fire. “I don’t know, having more time.”
“Maybe it’ll come to you once you’ve eaten the food he’s offering. What would Halmeoni say if she heard you were turning down a free meal?”
We stared at each other for a long moment before simultaneously shrugging and following Matt inside. We were both suckers for free food. Our grandmother was the kind of old lady who stuffed her purse with extras at restaurants just in case she got hungry later. And she was a pediatrician, so she really didn’t need to do that.
People always told us we took after her: I had Halmeoni’s chaos, while Oliver had her sharp scientific mind. And then they’d quickly tell me that I was smart, too, like they felt guilty for implying otherwise.
The interior of the summer camp’s lodge was dim and quiet. Most of the furniture was shoved to the sides of the room, and there was a wood floor sander thingy — or maybe a polisher — sitting in one corner.
A massive fireplace dominated one wall, and Matt must have used his natural lumberjack skills to light a fire in it. It was crackling merrily and casting a warm glow over everything. My eyes were drawn to an enormous slab wood table in the center of the room, piled high with steaming bowls of soup and platters of sandwiches. My stomach growled.
"Have a seat, guys," Matt said, gesturing to the chairs around the table. "Let me pour you some coffee. We don’t have to get to work straight away. I know you’ve had a long drive."
Oliver plopped down in a chair, reaching for a mug. I hesitated, still feeling dazed and out of place.
Everything around us was made of wood. Wood tables that looked like someone had sawed a few trees in half, chairs that seemed to be crafted from smaller bits of the same tree, wood paneling on the walls, and wood beams in the ceiling. While it had a certain rustic charm, and wasn’t hideous, it was certainly not my style. It made me feel like I’d stepped about 75 miles outside my comfort zone.
To a place where you craft everything you own from materials you find in a nearby forest.
Hadn’t they ever heard of Ikea?
As Matt poured the coffee, the rich aroma hit my nose, and I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders. At the very least, there was food and caffeine. Matt settled into a chair across from us, his piercing blue eyes flickering between Oliver and me.
"So," he began, his voice warm, "I'm sure that you're wondering why I invited you up here after the whole thing at the job fair."
My brain short-circuited. "You invited me up here? But Sutton…”
“Called you because I asked him to, of course.” Matt's brow furrowed in confusion.
“Oh, I thought maybe I’d impressed him.”
Matt shrugged. “You might have, but he was calling you in his role as my assistant.”
“Assistant Director sounds more like an executive role,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'd been operating under the assumption that Sutton had orchestrated this whole thing. My cheeks burned as I realized how spectacularly wrong I'd been. I chewed on my bottom lip. “So you want me to pitch an arts camp to you? I don’t get it.”
I looked up to find Matt watching me, like he was waiting for me to speak. “This is still an outdoor adventure camp,” he said. “We don’t need to turn it into an arts camp.”
“Oh my god! Being an outdoor adventure camp doesn’t mean it can’t have music! The arts belong in every facet of life.”
“Oh fuck, here we go again,” Oliver muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich.
“Convince me. How do we work music into a curriculum of hiking and rock climbing?” Matt asked, staring me down. Had his eyes always been that blue?
"Why?"
"You wanted to argue your point at the job fair, and the campus police ejected you before you could. So, convince me that you're right."
“But... You find me irritating.”
He bit his lower lip, glanced at Oliver, then nodded. “I do.”
“So, why do you care what I think?”
He shrugged, grinning. “I might not. Like I said, I’m waiting for you to convince me it could work. I'm skeptical. It sounds very expensive, for one thing, and we're on a rather tight budget.”
I let out a frustrated growl that only made Matt smile wider. What was I supposed to say? I didn't have a presentation prepared.
“Want me to show you to your cabin?” Matt asked. “Maybe you need a moment to prepare your argument. I'd be happy to show you the camp's facilities.”
“Maybe he needs to sleep on it,” Oliver volunteered, his eyes darting to me. “You know, he’s worn out from the car ride.”
Matt scratched his beard, then nodded.