Page 55 of All the Drama from New York

As they took their seats in the helicopter and the flight attendant strapped Ryan in, Camille made a silent promise to herself. When fashion week was over, she’d find a way to keepRyan in her life. Offer him the chance at a real career path. And even if they only stayed friends, it would be worth it to see him succeed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ryan managed to survive the flight without throwing up or passing out, and it was all down to Camille. Seated beside him in the helicopter she kept his thoughts from imagining the chopper suddenly plunging from the skies and his life ending in a fiery crash. She’d even waved to Simon as they flew over the hotel whereJava Junctionwas located.

She is definitely the best kind of distraction for being afraid of flying.

After soaring over the short strip of water which separated Fire Island from the mainland, the pilot carefully set the helicopter down in a green field. He killed the engine, and the blades eased to a slow spin.

“Whoever owns that place must have some serious sway with the authorities,” observed the pilot over the headset, pointing to the multilevel beach house. Apparently, it was rare to get approval to land a helicopter on the island.

Ryan hadn’t checked to see who owned the place. He’d let Sheila handle that part of things with the booking agent. All that had mattered to him was being able to secure the booking for two weeks, and making Camille happy.

But right now all I really care about is getting out of this chopper and putting my feet back on the ground.

As they alighted, a man appeared through a nearby gateway, and waved to them. He towed a flatbed hand wagon behind him. When he finally reached where Ryan and Camille stood, he gave them a cheery greeting. “Good morning. Welcome to Saltaire. I’m Paul, the housekeeper for Trade Winds.”

Ryan took in Paul’s Ralph Lauren pale pink polo shirt, khaki pants, and bare feet, and knew they’d picked the right place. The housekeeper had the demeanor of someone who’d lived on the island forever and knew the secret of living a quiet life.

Camille stepped forward and offered Paul her hand. “Hi, I’m Camille Royal. Ryan and I are so looking forward to staying at Trade Winds.”

If Paul carried himself with the air of someone used to digging his toes in the sand, Camille’s posture was one of someone used to being greeted by staff and assistants. She turned to the pile of luggage which the helicopter pilot had just finished depositing on the grass. “Could you please give us a hand with our things? I can carry the mannequin if it won’t fit in the cart.”

The housekeeper towed his cart over to the suitcases and bags, and with swift efficiency piled them all in. Even the dressmakers dummy was comfortably stowed away. He waved farewell to the pilot, then began to tow the fully laden cart toward the gate. “If you would like to follow me, please.”

Ryan and Camille exchanged grins. This place was exactly what they needed.

As they cleared the gate which led into the garden at the rear of the house, the helicopter’s blades roared back to life, and it took off. Soon the chopper was nothing more than a small silver speck in the clear blue sky.

Ryan brought up the rear as Camille followed Paul along the sandy path which wound its way through the tree lined garden and up to the steps of the white timber framed house. The crash of waves reached his ears. He’d seen the map of the guesthouse on the link sent from the luxury booking site and knew it was close to the beach, but hadn’t realized just how close.

Paul showed Camille to the door. “Please go inside and make yourself comfortable. There is a jug of freshly made lemonade on the kitchen counter. You must be in need a cool drink after the flight from New York City.”

As soon as she was gone, the housekeeper pointed to the bags. “If you would like to take the dressmakers dummy Mister Collins, I can bring in the rest of the luggage.”

Ryan collected the model. He made a point of picking up his own bag. No one should have to carry his tired old suitcase.

Once inside the house all his worries instantly eased, and he set his bag down. The agent’s photos hadn’t done the place justice. It looked like something out of an interior design catalogue. The Hamptons had truly come home.

He’d dearly love to ask Paul who actually owned the place, but Ryan had a sneaking suspicion it might actually be someone whose name was synonymous with the stylish beach home look. Someone who owned a chain of home décor stores. Someone whose private vacation home would easily pass the Royal family security checks.

Paul brought the rest of the bags into the house. He casually picked up Ryan’s suitcase before disappearing upstairs. When he returned, he was still smiling. “The weather forecast for the next two weeks is the best we’ve had all summer. No rain, and light sea breezes.”

Ever the good housekeeper, Paul put the dressmakers model in an out of the way corner of the living room.

This guy is so efficient, I wish he’d come and tidy up Liam’s and my apartment.

“The weather sounds perfect,” said Camille, setting down her empty glass. “Would you be able to give us a quick tour of the house, please?”

The housekeeper’s smile grew even wider. “This part of the island is called Saltaire, I can assure you nothing gets done in a hurry here.” He refilled Camille’s glass, then poured a fresh one for Ryan. As he handed them their drinks he said. “Let’s take a leisurely stroll around the first floor and then outside. I’ll leave the upstairs part of the house to the two of you to explore in your own time.”

Camille had lived in many luxurious places in her life. Her family’s wealth meant she’d never had to stay in anything less than five star accommodation. She was used to marble flooring and highly polished wooden finishes.

ButTrade Windswas something different. It was simple yet elegant. Clean lines along with a soft beach palette. Whomever had designed the interior of the guesthouse knew their way with colors and fabrics. A weight of worries slipped from her mind as she took the house and its surroundings in.

Mocha stained oak floorboards created an open and breezy flow to the house. Scattered rugs broke up the large living area into separate but connected spaces. As Paul guided them through their slow tour of the first floor of the house, she andRyan kept sneaking glances at one another. They had found the perfect place for them to hide away and work.

Through the white painted shutters which covered the windows at the front of the house, she caught occasional glimpses of the sea. It wouldn’t take more than a few steps for her to be standing on the sand.

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