Chapter One Ava #2
Work every shift the lake would give her.
Pick up extra hours during the Ridgeview charity events.
Save enough money to cover her fall semester books, her car insurance, and the security deposit for an off-campus apartment with plumbing that did not make ghost noises.
Avoid drama. Avoid her ex. Avoid her mother’s texts asking if she had “thought about something more stable.” Avoid men who looked like they came with theme music.
Simple.
Then the microphone screeched.
Ava flinched.
On the deck outside, a man in a Ridgeview polo stood near the railing holding a wireless mic and wearing the desperate expression of someone who had agreed to manage college athletes for charity and now understood the consequences.
“Attention, Lake Briar guests,” he said, the mic popping on every other word. “Welcome to day one of the Ridgeview Hockey Charity Summer Challenge.”
The deck cheered.
A few kids banged plastic cups on tables.
Ava leaned near the window despite herself.
The man continued. “All summer long, Ridgeview players will be competing in public events to raise money for youth sports scholarships. Camps, lake games, trivia nights, skills challenges, community service days, and our final Summer Showdown in August.”
More cheers.
One player yelled, “For the children!”
Another yelled, “And bragging rights!”
The man closed his eyes briefly.
Ava respected that.
“The winning player team will earn a donation bonus in their name,” the man said, “and the losing player team will be volunteering at the back-to-school cleanup weekend.”
Immediate booing.
Someone shouted, “Not mulch again!”
Nate laughed from his chair.
The man with the mic pointed at him. “Brennan, since you’re already speaking,”
“I was laughing supportively.”
“You were not.”
“I support joy.”
“You support problems.”
The deck laughed.
Nate leaned back with his lemonade, all easy charm again. “That feels personal.”
“It’s experience.” The man looked at a clipboard. “For our first social challenge, the players will earn points by partnering with staff, campers, and guests during events. Respectfully. Appropriately. Without flirting with sponsors’ daughters this year.”
A blond player held up both hands. “That was a misunderstanding.”
“You wrote your number on a silent auction paddle.”
“It sold for more.”
“Moving on,” the man said quickly.
Ava shook her head.
This place was going to be a nightmare.
A profitable nightmare, hopefully, but still.
Then Tyler, the sunburned one, stood on a chair.
Ava could feel management’s blood pressure rise from inside the snack shack.
“I would like to propose a side bet,” Tyler announced.
The deck reacted like someone had thrown chum into shark-infested water.
Nate looked up slowly. “No.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know your voice when it has bad ideas in it.”
“My voice is innocent.”
“Your voice once cost us three hundred dollars and access to a mini-golf course.”
“That windmill had it coming.”
The players laughed.
Ava should have gone back to wiping the counter. She should have restocked cups. She should have done literally anything except stand at the window, watching Nate Brennan’s summer get worse.
But she stayed.
Because she was human.
And nosy.
Tyler turned toward the deck like a game-show host. “Brennan here has been making some bold claims during summer training.”
Nate lowered his lemonade. “Do not.”
“Oh, I must.”
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“Tyler.”
“Nathaniel.”
The deck ooohed.
Ava’s eyebrows lifted.
Nathaniel.
Interesting.
Nate looked personally betrayed.
Tyler grinned. “Our boy said he is having a distraction-free summer.”
“That is not what I said.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘I’m not catching feelings this summer. I have discipline.’”
The entire deck made a sound of delighted disgust.
Ava snorted before she could stop herself.
Nate’s gaze snapped toward the snack shack window.
Found her.
Fantastic.
His eyes narrowed.
Not offended.
Amused.
Ava made the grave mistake of lifting her lemonade-sticky towel in a tiny salute.
Nate’s mouth curved.
Tyler noticed.
Because of course he did.
“Oh,” Tyler said.
Nate’s head turned very slowly. “No.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
“No.”
“This is perfect.”
“It is nothing.”
“Then you won’t mind.”
Ava’s instincts went cold.
She knew that tone.
That was the tone of men turning a woman into an activity.
Tyler pointed toward the snack shack. “Snack shack girl!”
Ava’s entire soul left her body, judged the situation, and declined to return.
Ellie gasped behind her. “Oh my gosh.”
Ava smiled through her teeth.
Slowly, she pushed open the service window wider. “Do you mean the employee currently holding access to all your food?”
Tyler’s grin faltered.
Good.
Nate stood quickly. “Do not involve her.”
Ava blinked.
That was unexpected.
Tyler either did not hear him or possessed the survival instincts of a fork in a toaster. “We need an impartial witness.”
“I’m not impartial,” Ava called. “I already dislike most of you.”
The deck laughed.
Nate’s expression shifted again.
There it was.
Interest. Real interest.
Dangerous interest.
Ava regretted speaking.
Tyler pointed dramatically at Nate. “Brennan claims he can go all summer without falling for anyone.”
“I said focus,” Nate snapped.
Tyler ignored him. “I say impossible.”
Several players shouted agreement.
Ava leaned her forearms on the counter. “Is this normally how you raise money? Publicly diagnosing one man’s emotional immaturity?”
Nate laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not the charming public one.
A surprised burst of sound that made his shoulders loosen and his eyes brighten.
Ava felt that laugh like a problem.
Tyler clapped. “Exactly! See? She gets it.”
“I do not want to get it.”
“You already do.”
Nate stepped closer to the window, leaving the deck table behind. “For the record, I did not say I was emotionally immature.”
Ava looked at him. “That does seem like something other people would say for you.”
His eyes sparked. “You’ve known me for ten minutes.”
“And yet.”
The players went feral.
Someone slapped the table.
Someone else yelled, “Ten minutes and she cooked him!”
Nate’s gaze stayed on Ava.
“Careful,” he said.
The word landed too low.
Too warm.
Too close to flirting.
Ava lifted her chin. “Why?”
“Because you’re starting to sound invested.”
She laughed once. “In you?”
“In proving me wrong.”
“You announced to a lakeside deck full of athletes and children that you have discipline. Nature requires correction.”
Nate placed one hand on the counter beneath the window. “I didn’t announce it.”
“You thought it. Near witnesses.”
“That is not a crime.”
“It should be.”
His smile flickered again, and Ava knew, with sudden terrible clarity, that Nate Brennan was not just cocky.
He was fun.
That was worse.
Cocky could be ignored.
Fun lingered.
Tyler climbed down from the chair and slapped both hands together. “Okay. The Summer Bet.”
Nate turned on him. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No bet.”
“Too late.”
Ava pointed at Tyler. “That phrase is banned.”
Tyler ignored her too. “Terms: Nate Brennan claims he will not catch feelings this summer. We, the people, believe he is delusional.”
“The people?” Nate said.
Tyler gestured to the deck.
A dozen hockey players raised their hands.
Two campers raised theirs too.
Ava made a mental note to avoid all of them.
“By the final Summer Showdown,” Tyler continued, “if Brennan is still emotionally unattached, he wins. If he catches feelings, we win.”
Nate folded his arms. “How exactly would you measure that?”
Tyler paused.
The deck paused.
Ava, against every instinct she possessed, answered.
“You won’t have to measure it. Men who say they don’t catch feelings always become embarrassing when they do.”
Silence.
Then chaos.
Absolute chaos.
The deck exploded.
Ellie screamed into a napkin.
Tyler looked like Ava had handed him fire.
Nate stared at her.
Ava realized too late that she had done something much worse than mock him.
She had made herself memorable.
Nate stepped closer to the window.
Close enough that she could see a small scar near his eyebrow.
Close enough that his shadow reached the counter.
Close enough that her pulse made one deeply stupid decision.
“Is that your official opinion?” he asked.
Ava swallowed.
Did not look at his mouth.
Absolutely did not.
“My official opinion is that anyone who says he has discipline usually ends up shirtless on a dock making poor choices.”
His gaze dropped, quick and amused, to his own black Ridgeview shirt.
“I’m currently wearing a shirt.”
“Day one.”
He laughed under his breath.