Chapter 4 #2
“Thank you ,” Zephyr said, putting an odd emphasis on the final word. “Oh, and Uncle?”
Honey didn’t know who he meant until Buck paused. He looked back at the younger man warily.
So far, Honey had formed an impression of Zephyr as a nice, rather quiet man; not at all the dominant, driven entrepreneur she’d expected, given that he was the founder of the camp.
Now, as Zephyr met Buck’s eyes, she had a sudden appreciation that he had built this whole place.
Here was someone who’d had a dream, and made it reality, and would protect it at any cost.
“Don’t cause problems,” Zephyr said, and there was steel in his tone. “Remember what we discussed. I can’t afford to lose any counselors this year.”
Buck’s jaw tightened. He gave Zephyr a curt, jerky nod before hustling Honey out of the office.
The moment they emerged into the sunshine, Buck let go of her arm. He sprang away from her, back-pedaling a good six feet, as though fearing she might try to tackle him to the ground if he stayed within arms’ reach.
“Sorry,” Buck said gruffly. His right thumb rubbed across his fingertips, as though he too still felt the heat of that brief contact. “Didn’t mean to manhandle you like that.”
Certain parts of Honey had not been handled by any man in quite some time, and were letting it be known that they would not object to more of it. She swallowed, attempting to recover at least an ounce of dignity. “Why the sudden rush?”
Buck grimaced. “Panicked. Didn’t want you to say it out loud. Especially not in front of Zeph.”
Honey blinked at her co-counselor, nonplussed. “Um, I’m pretty sure he already knows.”
Buck stared at the closed door as though wondering whether he could get away with striding back in and murdering everyone. “Probably.”
Before she could point out that Zephyr had literally just introduced them to each other as co-counselors, and thus that ‘probably’ was definitely a ‘definitely’, Buck shook his head. Raking a hand through his hair, he turned away from the door.
“Damn freaks might still be able to hear us,” he muttered, then winced, glancing at her. “No offence. You get here by car?”
Honey was starting to get mental whiplash from this conversation. “Uh, yes?”
Buck grunted. Without warning, he set off for the parking lot, so abruptly that she was left behind.
She had to break into an embarrassing bouncing trot to catch up with him, and even then she couldn’t quite match his pace.
No matter how she stretched her legs, he stayed a half-step ahead of her, covering the ground in long, steady strides.
“Zephyr called you uncle,” she said, hoping that if she made conversation, he’d slow down. “You’re related?”
Buck grunted again, not pausing. “My sister’s son.”
“Oh, so the camp’s a family business?”
He let out a huff of humorless laughter, still not looking back. “As of about five minutes ago. Don’t usually have anything to do with the place. Zeph twisted my arm into helping out this year. He couldn’t get anyone else.”
That explained Zephyr’s comment about not being able to afford to lose any counselors. And also why a man who looked like he wrestled lions for a living was crammed into a camp t-shirt.
“You don’t seem very happy about it,” Honey ventured.
“I am the exact opposite of happy about any of this.” They’d reached the parking lot. Without so much as a glance at the other vehicles, Buck strode unerringly to her car. “You got the key?”
“Uh, yeah. Hang on.” As she fumbled in her pocket, she couldn’t help asking, “How did you know which one was mine?”
“I…” Buck stopped, brows drawing together. He sniffed the air, then scowled at the car as if it had personally insulted his virility. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Keep your big, wet nose to yourself, you damn mutt.”
“ Excuse me?”
“Not you.” Buck popped the trunk, revealing her suitcase. “Cats on a cracker, woman, what are you trying to smuggle into camp? Six crates of Bud and a Sumatran rhino?”
“I may have gone a bit overboard,” Honey confessed. “I’ve never been to a summer camp before, not even as a kid. I didn’t really know what to pack.”
“Well, you didn’t have to bring your entire house.” Buck hauled the case out of the trunk. It landed on the gravel with a resounding thud. “Dismantled and transported brick by brick, apparently. Sweet baby cheeses. How did you even get this in here?”
“My neighbors helped me. Did you just say sweet baby cheeses ?”
“What, you never hear a man swear before?” Buck retrieved her remaining bags, dumping them next to her suitcase. He shook his head. “We’re going to need a motherloving pack camel to get this lot all the way to your cabin.”
“It’s not so bad. The big one’s got wheels, see?” She tried to push the suitcase in demonstration, only for said wheels to jam in the uneven gravel. “Though, uh, they’re not exactly built for rugged terrain. I guess we’ll just have to carry it. I’ll take this end.”
Buck interposed himself between her and the suitcase as she tried to reach for the handle. “Oh no you don’t. This thing is a major incident report waiting to happen.”
She returned his exasperated look with one of her own. “This isn’t going to work if you insist on treating me like some delicate flower. I’m stronger than I look, I’ll have you know.”
“I don’t doubt it, but I’m not going to let you risk injuring yourself just to prove a point.
Last thing Zeph needs is to have one of his counselors flat on her back with a slipped disk.
” Buck rubbed the back of his neck, walking around her luggage as though it might get lighter from another angle.
“I’ll go find Leonie. The kids arrive with whole piles of junk in tow, after all.
She must have a luggage cart or a damn pallet lifter somewhere around—”
Buck stopped mid-sentence. He stared at her luggage, then up at the sky. An expression of deep, weary resignation settled across his features.
“Um,” Honey ventured, when he didn’t continue. “Should I go see about that cart?”
“No,” Buck said, in tones of sepulchral gloom. “No need. I forgot.”
Before she could protest, he picked up the suitcase.
One-handed.
Honey’s jaw dropped. With only the slightest grunt of effort, Buck flipped the enormous case onto his shoulder. Scooping up her rucksack and duffle bag in the other hand, he straightened.
“I hate this,” he announced to the world in general. “You got your cabin assignment?”
There were a lot of things Honey wanted to say at that moment. Like How on earth are you doing that? and Forgot what? and No, seriously, sweet baby cheeses ?
What came out of her mouth was: “Guh.”
Buck shot her an exasperated look around the suitcase. “Come on, woman. I can’t stand around like this all day. At least, I damn well hope I can’t. Where are we taking this stuff?”
Mouth dry, Honey wrenched her eyes away from Buck’s biceps. She fumbled for the orientation pack Leonie had given her.
“I, uh.” She scanned the papers, finding it hard to focus on the words. “Maple Cabin?”
Buck heaved a sigh that seemed to start all the way down at his toes. For the first time, she noticed he was barefoot. “Of course it is. Come on, then.”
He set off back for the camp, crunching across the gravel with no hint of discomfort. Still open-mouthed, Honey followed helplessly in his wake.
Okay. Right. She stared at Buck’s taut back. There’s a rational explanation for this.
“Um.” She moistened her lips, trying to work out a polite way of asking Is it just me, or are you freakishly strong? “So, you… work out a lot?”
Buck made a disgruntled sound, never breaking stride. “Not anymore.”
“Huh?”
“Retired,” he said curtly. “Briefly.”
Honey was dying to know what kind of profession had left him with the ability to casually lift insane weights— Lumberjack? Personal trainer? Circus strongman?— but Buck clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Under the clinging black fabric of his t-shirt, his spine was a tense, rigid line.
They passed a few other counselors as they crossed the camp.
Honey noticed a few curious glances flung their way, but nobody stopped dead to stare, or walked into a wall, or pointed with cries of amazement.
Apparently, no one found Buck’s ridiculous feat of strength at all noteworthy. Maybe it really was just her.
Buck led the way to a group of cabins clustered together at the edge of the camp.
They were bigger than Honey had expected; long, low log structures, more like dormitories than rustic huts.
Each one had a shallow shingle roof, and long porches wrapping around the front and sides.
Stacks of folded deckchairs leaned against the railings.
“This is you,” Buck said, nodding at one of the cabins. The distinctive pointed shape of a maple leaf was carved into a plaque under the eaves. He stalked up the stairs, somehow managing to stomp even in bare feet. “Maple Cabin. Junior girls, dog help your soul. You gonna get this door?”
“Hmm?” Honey said, momentarily hypnotized by the denim-clad posterior now at her eye level. She started, coming back to herself. “Oh, right. Sorry.”
From the way Buck’s jaw tightened, he knew exactly what she’d been staring at, and hadn’t taken it as a compliment. Flushing, Honey fumbled with the door, holding it open for him. Buck edged past, clutching the suitcase in front of his body as if it was all that was protecting his modesty.
Be professional, Honey, she told herself as Buck led the way inside. She did her best to arrange her face into a pleasant, neutral expression, not allowing her gaze to drift down again. The man’s your colleague, and you have to work with him all summer. Don’t make things weird.
The door led to a narrow corridor that opened out into a big room at the end. Honey glimpsed ranks of bare bunk beds and neat, empty cubbyholes before Buck shouldered open a door to the left.