Chapter 4 #3
Beyond was a small but cozy bedroom, with a rag rug on the wooden floor and cheerful leaf-patterned curtains fluttering around the window. Shelves ran across one wall, along with a short rail with a couple of empty hangers. The only piece of furniture was a narrow, metal-framed bed.
Right. Honey swallowed, trying not to look at this last item. Bed. Right there. Two of us, alone, with a bed. This is fine.
Buck also seemed a bit unnerved at this unexpectedly intimate environment. Giving the bed a wide berth—well, as wide as the narrow space allowed—he dumped her bags in one corner. He cleared his throat.
“Well.” Buck gave her a brief, grudging nod, edging toward the door. “I’ll leave you to settle in.”
“Wait.” Honey started to reach out to catch his arm, then thought better of it. “You said you wanted to talk.”
Buck glanced at the bed, and quickly away again. He blew out his breath.
“Guess we have to do this at some point,” he muttered. “Might as well rip the Band-Aid off now.”
Well, that’s not ominous at all.
Honey didn't know what could be bothering him, but it was clearly serious. Her mind spun, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong.
Okay, she’d gaped at him like an idiot, but surely he must be used to women temporarily losing the power of speech in his presence.
He couldn’t have been that offended, could he?
She attempted to smile, hiding her surge of trepidation. “Whatever’s bothering you, you can tell me. We have to be able to trust each other. We’re meant to be partners, after all.”
Buck did not seem to find this reassuring. If anything, he went even more tense. His gaze flicked to the bed again. “Look, can we have this conversation somewhere else? Anywhere else?”
Honey was only too glad of any excuse to escape close confines with Buck. For lack of other options, they went back out onto the porch. Honey unfolded a couple of chairs, while Buck stalked around peering under the deck and behind the cabin like a bodyguard sweeping the area for snipers.
“I think we’re okay,” he said, rejoining her at last. He subjected a passing butterfly to a suspicious glare. “No sign of eavesdroppers. Though you never really know in this damn place.”
“Buck, you’re starting to make me nervous.” She sat down, gesturing him to take the other chair. “What’s this all about?”
Buck did not sit. He stayed at the opposite end of the porch, as far away as he could get, fidgeting with an odd, heavy bracelet around his right wrist. Catching her looking at it, he hid his hand behind his back.
“Look, uh.” He stopped, an expression of consternation flashing across his face. “Oh, squirrel nuts. I think Zeph said your name, but to be honest at that point he could have marched around the room playing a trombone solo and I wouldn’t have noticed. Sorry.”
She had to laugh at that. “No need to apologize. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t catch yours the first time either. I guess we were both kind of distracted.”
“No kidding.” Buck’s mouth twitched, for an instant lifting from that harsh, fixed scowl; the closest she’d seen him get to a smile. “So, what do I call you?”
She smiled back at him, heartened by this tiny crack in his armor. Maybe things would be okay after all. “Honey.”
That faint trace of wry humor vanished instantly. “Absolutely not .”
Honey sighed. It was not the first time this had happened.
“No, that’s my actual name,” she said patiently. And then, bracing herself for his inevitable reaction, “Honey Bunch.”
He stared at her.
“My mom thought it was cute,” she said, a bit nettled. “So do I, in fact. It’s my maiden name. I changed it back after my divorce.”
Buck continued to stare at her for a long, long moment. Then he rubbed a hand over his face.
“Your name is Honey,” he said, very flatly. “And you changed your surname back to Bunch. Please tell me you were being held at gunpoint at the time.”
“Well, at least I’m not named after a woodland creature,” Honey retorted, her temper rising. “Is that what your mom called you, or did you just Google ridiculously macho nicknames?”
“It is, in fact, on my birth certificate.” With a resigned sigh, Buck dropped his hand. “And to forestall your inevitable next question, no, I’m not literally a deer.”
It was her turn to stare at him. “Really wasn’t about to ask that.”
“Right. Sorry, forgot that your lot consider that bad manners.” Buck hesitated, eying her. “Though let me guess. Given the name… grizzly?”
“What?”
“Brown bear, then. Or black? For the love of all that’s holy, please don’t say honey badger. There’s only so much a man can take.”
“Buck, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know.” Buck made a half-hearted gesture at her, with the expression of someone forced to inquire about an embarrassing personal problem. “Your thing. Creature. Animal.”
For a moment, she had no idea what he meant.
Then she remembered that weird question on the application form, asking for her ‘inner animal.’ At the time, she’d assumed it was just a cutesy way of getting her to describe her personality, in a ‘if you were a vegetable, what kind of vegetable would you be’ kind of way.
It hadn’t seemed to matter, anyway, since Zephyr hadn’t brought it up during her interview.
“What on earth does that have to do with anything?” she said, utterly bewildered. “Buck, will you please just tell me what’s going on?”
“I need you to promise me one thing first. Even if it’s awkward as hell, we both stay until the end of summer, okay? Zeph really can’t afford to lose any counselors. If you walk out, he’ll have no choice but to send some campers home early. I can’t let the kids down like that.”
He really meant it, Honey realized. Despite the brick wall of his expression, there was a rough, jagged edge to his voice; something almost pleading. He genuinely thought she might leave, and that prospect terrified him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, touched by his clear concern for the kids. “I promise. No matter what, we’ll make this work.”
“That’s just it.” Buck drew in a deep breath, setting his feet. “Look, there’s no easy way to break this to you, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. This isn’t going to happen. Ever.”
He stopped. He looked like he’d just thrown a hand grenade, and now desperately wanted to duck for cover.
“Er,” Honey said after a moment. “And by ‘this,’ you mean… what?”
Buck scrunched up his whole face as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “For dog’s sake, woman. Are you really going to make me say it?”
“I think you’re going to have to.”
Buck muttered something that sounded like motherloving shifters , which made no sense whatsoever. He glared at her as though she was being willfully obtuse just to embarrass him.
“Do the motherloving monster mash, all right?” he snapped. “Make like the birds and the bees. Tickle the beaver. Audition for a Discovery Channel special. Take the bony express all the way to pound town. You know damn well what I mean. Mate .”
Buck abruptly flattened himself against the porch railing. It took Honey a moment to realize this was because she’d stood up. A ringing filled her ears. It felt like her mind floated above her body, pushed out by a boiling mix of humiliation and rage.
“Good,” she said, biting off the word. “Then we’re on the same page. Was that all?”
“It’s not you, it’s me,” Buck said, thus proving that it was very definitely her. “Look, I know this is—hang on, what?”
Honey drew herself up, summoning as much icy dignity as she could manage. “Let me reassure you, the feeling is mutual. I came here because I wanted to help kids, not because I was hoping for some tawdry summer fling. And even if I was looking for romance, it certainly wouldn’t be with you.”
This was absolutely true. The man might be ridiculously hot, but any idiotic flicker of attraction she’d felt had just died a thorough death.
Buck’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t have looked more floored if she’d decked him with her chair.
“Uh,” he said. “You… aren’t… devastated?”
“Devastated?” she repeated, incredulous. “My God, can you actually hear the words coming out of your own mouth? Get over yourself. You aren’t that attractive.”
“No, I mean, uh.” Buck seemed totally confounded. He absently rubbed at a scar on his upper arm, still staring at her as if she’d sprouted antlers. “You telling me you don’t… feel the thing?”
“Believe me, I have no interest in feeling your thing,” Honey snapped. She yanked the door open. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of unpacking to do.”
Without waiting for a response, she marched into the cabin, slamming the door behind her. Two angry strides took her to her small private bedroom. For good measure, she slammed that door too.
“Arrogant ass,” she muttered. “Who does he think he is?”
With a sigh, Honey flopped onto the bed. Letting her head fall back on the pillow, she stared up at the ceiling. And to think she’d been so excited about coming to camp. It had all gone wrong, and she hadn’t even put her staff t-shirt on yet.
It was going to be a long, long summer.