Page 31 of The Kiss Keeper
The breath caught in Nat’s throat. She couldn’t be outed as a liar and a fraud already. They hadn’t even made it to camp yet.
“She’s an art teacher. She can run classes out of community centers, teach during the summer at camps, or cater to homeschoolers. There’s a world of possibilities for someone with her skills,” he answered as smooth as silk.
Natalie resumed her normal breathing. Jake remembered what she did, and his on-the-fly response wasn’t a bad idea at all.
She stared at her fake boyfriend. She’d never considered branching out on her own. But why should she limit herself to only working in schools? Art could be taught anywhere. She’d uncovered her love of drawing and painting at Camp Woolwich. She’d run the arts and crafts program with her grandmother every summer that she was a counselor at camp.
“Is this true, Nat?” Leslie barked.
“Yeah, thanks to Jake, a lot of things that seemed out of reach, now, don’t seem so far off.”
“Well, I could never live with that kind of instability,” Leslie huffed.
Natalie lifted her chin and schooled her features. “Well, I could never live with smelling feet all day long. So, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree when it comes to the life I choose to live.”
Leslie stared at her, wide-eyed, and Natalie froze. Holy hell! Had she shoveled Leslie’s shit right back at her? Had she actually stood up for herself? She should be bracing for impact. Leslie was sure to sling another criticism her way, but the thrill of not allowing her witch cousin to bulldoze over her made her giddy over this tiny triumph.
“Whatever,” Leslie said and turned her attention back to her phone, like a sullen teenager.
She met Jake’s gaze, and in the dim light of an on-coming car, he tucked her hair behind her ear then leaned in. “Nice one, Heels.”
Her pulse kicked up, but this time, it wasn’t from standing up to her raging bitch of a cousin. Jake’s scent and the warmth of his breath were what made the butterflies in her belly erupt into flight. She pulled back and met his gaze in the shadowy light as he rested his hand on her shoulder, and just like in the airport, his thumb brushed past her collarbone.
“Thank you,” she whispered, tilting her head as if some tractor beam were pulling them together when his phone pinged an incoming text, and they stilled.
“I should check that,” he said as that muted quality took hold of his features.
Jake angled his body away from her to respond to the message, and she sat back in the seat with a sinking feeling. He had a life—a life she wasn’t a part of. In her mad dash to school him on pertinent Woolwich family details, she hadn’t asked him one thing about himself, besides the part-time serial killer stuff. They could get their stories straight tonight. She sighed and stared out the window. The number of on-coming headlights diminished as Fish exited the highway and set off down the dark country road toward Woolwich Cove.
Day or night, she’d know this drive. The tires hit the gravel road leading up to the Woolwich property, and she couldn’t help but smile as the memories flooded back.
S’mores by the fire. Cannonballing off the dock as the crisp bite of the cold water shocked her system. Purple stained fingertips from gorging on wild blackberries. And…a kiss. A kiss that was both a curse and a blessing.
Fish parked the van next to the old shed, and Jake craned his head to look out the window.
“I can’t believe I’m here. It’s…” he trailed off.
She patted his hand. “Everyone feels this way the first time they see it.”
The lights from the dock and boathouse lit the darkened sloping acres of the coastal property in an ethereal glow. Dotted by clusters of trees, cabins, and the main house where her grandparents lived, the shadowy body of water surrounding the camp ebbed and flowed in hypnotizing waves.
“You kids head down to your grandparents’ place. Hal and Bev saved you some supper. I’ll bring your things to your cabins,” Fish said, busying himself with the bags.
“Please tell me that Leo and I are in one of the renovated cabins,” Leslie barked.
Fish nodded. “Oh, yes! You three happy couples each have one of the honeymoon cottages.”
“Thank God!” Leslie huffed.
The Dixtown quartet headed down the path to the main house, but she and Jake stayed behind.
His head swung back and forth, taking it all in.
“It’ll be easier to figure out the lay of the land tomorrow,” she said, but he didn’t respond.
“This place,” he murmured.
“What about it?”
