Page 56 of Until Next Summer

This is why I never let my heart get involved in matters of business. Old companies fold and new companies start every single day. It’s the cycle of commerce; and it only hurts when you let yourself care.

“I’m so sorry, Jess,” I say, reaching for her hand.

“It’s fine,” she says, even though it’s clearly not. “We have until the end of the summer.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and my heart breaks for her. She’s losing so much—but she won’t lose me. Not again.

Jessie takes her hand back and clears the emotion from her throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I wish there was something more we could do.”

“Me too,” she says with a sigh.

Neither of us moves. I hope she knows that she’s not alone, that I’m here to help shoulder the weight of this immense loss.

The silence is interrupted by the static of her walkie-talkie, pulling us back to the reality at hand.

“Go for Jessie,” she says, transforming back into thehappy, shiny camp director she lets the world see. With a small wave, she’s off.

The door closes behind her, and I rub my aching chest, trying to make sense of the swirl of emotions. I hate that she’s hurting, but I’m grateful she turned to me. For the first time all summer, I feel confident our friendship will survive, even if the camp won’t.

—

Later that afternoon, after the campers have made patriotic flags for the parade and revealed the red, white, and blue (or, in some cases, purple) tie-dyed shirts we made yesterday, I rush out to find Cooper. The kitchen is abuzz with his staff getting ready for tonight’s BBQ, and ingredients in various stages of prep cover the counters.

“Has anyone seen Chef?” I ask, trying to sound casual, like I’m seeking Cooper out for a completely legit, work-related purpose. Which I suppose I am.

Somehow, we’ve managed to keep our fling under wraps, acting professional, yet friendly, when others are near, then sneaking around camp to private places like the walk-in pantry or the empty archery range to make out like teenagers.

Except neither of us was that kind of teenager, which is probably why we’re having so much fun with it.

Nothing’s gone past heavy “necking and petting,” as Nurse Penny used to call it, but that’s somehow made it even better. It’s like when you become an adult and start having sex, you forget how fun it is to get all hot and bothered, then back away, over and over again until you’re both so breathless and horny that a simple touch, a brush of skinagainst skin, can threaten to undo you. It’s been two weeks of nonstop edging—and Cooper seems to be enjoying it as much as I am, dragging out the anticipation until we decide to reach the main event.

“He’s out by the grills,” one of the guys answers, and I wave in appreciation before heading outside and around the far corner of the dining hall toward the lake.

There’s Cooper, standing in front of the grill with his hat on backward, wearing an apron with the wordssuck it, englandunder a picture of George Washington in shades. His face lights up at the sight of me, and I feel a flutter in my belly that stops me in my tracks.The elusive butterflies.So they do exist.

“Hey,” he says as I get closer. A quick glance around confirms we’re alone, so I slip my arms around his neck and bring my lips to his for what’s supposed to be a quick kiss.

But the sweep of his tongue against mine sends the butterflies into a frenzy, and I forget everything that isn’t us. Cooper’s hand slides down from my waist to cup my butt, pulling me closer. Heat flushes through me, and I can tell he’s getting excited, too. The press of his erection against my stomach brings me back to the moment: standing out in the open, in broad daylight where anyone could see us. I quickly step back to a platonic distance.

Cooper clears his throat, then adjusts himself. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Huh?” I say, before remembering myself. “Oh! I have news.”

Cooper’s smile falters when he sees the look on my face. “It’s not good news?”

“Afraid not.”

I fill him in on what Jessie told me and explain the way sales of this size work. How being under contract is just the first step in a very long process that could likely take until the summer is over, if not beyond.

“Shit,” Cooper says. “Jessie must be a wreck.”

“Yeah,” I say, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “It’s crushing—and I hate knowing that I could’ve saved this place for her if things were different.”

Cooper quirks an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Finding ways for failing businesses to turn things around is what I do. That’s my job.” I sit on top of one of the picnic tables, trying to think of the best way to explain the thoughts that have been niggling in the back of my mind for the last few weeks. “But it only works if the ownerswantit to be saved. The Valentines are set on selling—from everything I’ve heard, Jack has his eyes on the money, and this land is worth millions.”

“So you couldn’t have saved it?” Cooper asks, confused.

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