Chapter 4
Claire
I told Asher I would be there. I did not tell him I’d be on time.
And I did not warn him that I’m notorious for running late.
Pauline used to mark my appointments half an hour earlier than the scheduled time, and that worked well.
I swear I don’t do it on purpose. I just…
I don’t know. Lose track of time? Sometimes I underestimate how much of it I have.
Other times I overestimate and am left with extra time, only to realize I’ve suddenly used it all up, plus some, dicking around.
Thankfully, Cam was by my side when I broke the news to our parents that I’d quit.
One look from him, and Dad fell in line, expressing his support.
He and Mom validated my feelings for a total of five seconds before jumping into fix-it mode, as they tend to do.
It’s annoying, but it’s their love language.
The GPS shows I’m five minutes from the camp in Spring Oaks.
That means I’ll be twenty minutes late. Shit.
It only hits me now that I haven’t actually met Asher in person.
He missed Joey and Cam’s engagement party last year due to an illness, and surprisingly—or maybe not, with him upstate and with my busy schedule in the city—our paths haven’t crossed.
I pass under a cheerful giant blue-and-yellow wooden arch that reads Daisy Lake Retreat I loathe when people automatically assume I’m uppity because I live in a penthouse apartment.
While it is uppity, I don’t act like a snob.
It’s one of my life’s biggest missions. In fact, when I get to know people pretty well, they tend to comment that they’re surprised I’m so down to earth, usually mentioning their first impression.
It’s a weird backhanded compliment, but I’ll take it.
“What has my cousin told you about Daisy Lake?” He shifts in his seat.
With the way we’re both leaning against the cushions facing one another, this feels more like two friends hanging out than an interview.
“Not much. But she mentioned it’s more than just a summer camp.”
“That’s correct.” He runs his fingers through his hair.
It’s cut short on the sides, but the top is a little longer.
“From Memorial Day to the weekend before Labor Day, we host families. The minimum stay is a week, but they can reserve the entire summer if they want. During the remainder of the year, we hold all sorts of retreats and programs.”
He plucks a brochure from the side table and passes it over. I flip through the pages while he talks.
“We have dance, art, yoga, agriculture, writing, weddings, and corporate events. What else am I missing…”
“Pets?” I finish for him, reading from the pamphlet.
He chuckles, and damn if the timbre of his voice doesn’t make my ovaries shimmy. The fuck? I cannot be attracted to my friend’s brother. My new boss. Potential new boss.
“Yes, even retreats for pets and their owners.”
I look up from the brochure. “But I’m not a veterinarian.”
“We outsource a local vet,” he clarifies.
“Does your current doctor live on the premises? Is this like a small-town doc gig? If so, that sounds very charming.”
That last part was supposed to be just for me, but Asher hears me and breaks into a smile.
“I’ve never described it as such, but you’re right. It is charming.”
No. You know what is charming, Mr. Greer? Those fucking dimples.
“Dr. Parsons has worked at the center for as long as it’s been open. He has his own home, but he stays in the cabin next to mine during the summers, as it can get a little hectic.”
“I need to be up-front. I’m not really looking for this to be a full-time thing.”
He nods once, like he’s not surprised. “I appreciate the transparency. I figured as much. A city girl like you—”
“Excuse me,” I interrupt with mock offense. “I will do just fine out here.” I may have been fed with a silver spoon, but my brother and I have made sure we never act like it. “If I worked for the summer, would that give you enough time to find a replacement?”
“It should.”
“Would I stay in the cabin you mentioned?”
I wonder what it looks like. If the lobby is any indication of the vibes around here, it’s presumably nice.
“Yes, the job requires you to live on the property for the summer. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all,” I reply in earnest. “So did you grow up around here?”
He rubs the top of his thigh, the action snagging my attention, and I can’t help but track the light blond hair on his muscular legs. “I’m originally from California.”
I smack a hand to my head. “I knew that.” For a second I forgot he was Millie’s brother. “You moved in high school, right?”
“Mm-hmm. My sister and I were so angry when our dad got a job on the east coast. I didn’t want to leave Southern California for the Concrete Jungle.
But I eventually found my way outside the city.
While Daisy Lake isn’t exactly the Pacific Ocean, it’s home now.
” He smiles. This one is smaller, without dimples, but it’s endearing. “I don’t see myself ever leaving.”
The property is more impressive than I imagined. I expected the buildings to be old and rustic, but from what I’ve seen while Asher has shown me around, it’s remarkably similar to the all-inclusive resorts in Europe where my family vacationed when I was a kid.
A variety of A-frame log cabins are sprinkled between larger buildings. The gymnasium is well-maintained and the small theater is quaint. The place even has an Olympic-size pool, splash pad, and water slides.
As we continue, Asher points in the direction of the art studio. A little thrill runs through me at the idea of checking it out, but he guides me toward the clinic instead.