Page 29 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
We work in silence, with me snipping twine and tying it around the lunch bags and Etta following me, shoving pieces of lavender through the bows. My palms are sweaty, to the point that if I had on khakis and wanted to wipe them on my pants, there’s no way I could without being busted for wet hands. There’s no doubt in my mind this woman makes me sweat in the best way possible…if there is a good way to sweat, that is.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Etta as she snips the lavender in her hands and finishes stuffing its flowers into the last bow before she steps away with a smile. “They look pretty, don’t they?”
“Yes,” I acknowledge, but I’m not looking at the lunch bags.
Etta’s eyes zip to mine as the door from outside swings open. A woman I recognize, with long blonde hair pulled back into a secure ponytail, peeks her head inside and calls out. “Is this where I sign up for the adult camp?”
“Lucy Bothalmey, it’s good to have you,” I say, ticking her name off the sign-in sheet. “First one here, huh?”
Lucy’s eyes trip around the space, taking it all in as she nods her head. “Kinda. Parker and Miller pulled up at the same time I did, but they’re still outside.”
Next to me, Etta clears her throat as she reaches across me with her hand out. “Hi, Lucy, I’m Etta. Welcome to the Sweetkiss Creek Campground.”
“Oh.” Lucy’s eyes start at Etta’s feet and make their way up in the most obvious sizing up I’ve ever been a witness to. “Who are you?”
“I work here. If you need anything at all, just let me know,” Etta says, her phone beeping in her hand. She glances at the screen, rolls her eyes, then puts her hand down. “I’m on-site for the duration of your stay.”
“Mmmm.” Lucy nods her head sharply, her lips pressed in a thin line that slowly begins to turn up at the corners. “Honestly, if I need anything, I’ll ask our camp counselor.” Her charcoal-lined blue eyes sparkle as she turns her attention to me, reaching out to grasp my bicep. “And that’s you, correct, Wright?”
Her hand lingers a moment too long, so I step back, feeling uncomfortable, letting her hand drop back to its natural place at her side. Lucy’s nice enough, but she’s made no bones about how she feels about me from the moment I started. Sergeant Lane had pulled me aside my first day to let me know she’d requested to work with me as my partner, but he’d told her no.
I start to say something, but I’m interrupted by Etta’s phone dinging again. Looking her way, I wait for her to check her phone, but instead she just looks at me as it goes off again. When it goes off a third time, she glances at it and huffs, dropping her hand again.
“Etta is my co-counselor, if we’re putting things in terms of camp, Lucy.” I nudge a surprisingly rigid Etta gently with my elbow. “Wouldn’t that be the best way to put it?”
“I think so,” she replies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. Etta then reaches for a brown bag lunch and swipes it, tossing it to me as she walks away waving her phone in the air. “Here, give this to Lucy. I need to handle this. I’ll be back in a sec.”
It’s with a tiny jolt of fear that I watch as Etta disappears into the kitchen, tapping away on her phone as if she’s texting for her life. Beside me, Lucy—who is reading over her retreat agenda—takes her hip and checks mine, winking at me.
“So, did you do the cabin arrangements?” she asks, pointing to a map I hadn’t seen yet. The map is a drawing of the campground and shows what buildings are what, where the boat launch and dock is, and there’s a section where the cabins are mapped out. Someone had listed our names beside each cabin.
When I look where Lucy points, my stomach dips. Oh, no no no. Whoever made the bed arrangements has put us in the same cabin. I scan the list quickly to see if there’s anyone else I can swap places with. I decided to bide my time and find someone later in the day.
As I turn to answer Lucy, I’m thrilled when Parker and Miller come barreling inside, hands in the air, singing “The Final Countdown” and laughing. Looking beyond them, I can see a few more cars driving single file up the lane, one after the other. Within a few minutes even Etta’s back by my side, and we’re ready—signing everyone in, giving them agendas, and sending them off to their cabins to unpack.
Let the games begin.
* * *
“Okay, you guys, I think everyone’s here.” I look around the room and count twelve heads, including me. “Yep, we’re all here. So we’re going to start with an icebreaker to get everyone playing together, sound good?”
Lucky for me, this crew is into the whole team bonding thing, and they all cheer when I ask. “You guys are an easy crowd. Okay, Miller, come on up.”
Etta had briefed me on an improv game she always played with her employees called Zip, Zap, Zop. “I’m going to show you all how to do this with Miller, then I want everyone to come up and do it for a couple of rounds.”
I quickly explain the game, still marveling at its ease and how quickly it can become comical. “The leader, in this case it’ll be Miller, starts with a ‘Zip’ and passes it to the person either to the left or right—when I say pass, you’re pretending the word is like a ball. It’s up to the person who receives it which direction to pass it, and they will say ‘Zap’ when they pass it. The next person must ‘Zop’ it, sending it to someone across the circle. ‘Zip’ and ‘Zap’ can only be sent to either your left or right…and I want all of you to say the words in your best Italian accent.”
No one moves, so I clap my hands together. “Come on, people, let’s go!”
As everyone scrambles, laughing and getting into a circle, I head into the kitchen to see if there’s any kind of prep I can help Etta with. She’d been tasked with coordinating our dinner, and I don’t want her to be overwhelmed.
When I don’t find Etta in the kitchen, I jog to the back pantry and whip the door open. I’m in such a rush I don’t see her as she’s coming out of the pantry with her arms full. Our bodies slam together, comically, with Etta grunting as she smacks into my chest.
“Hey.” She half laughs, catching a bag of pasta as it starts to tumble from her arms. “Watch where you’re going.”
“Sorry about that.” Steadying us, I grab her elbows and pull her close to me. “You okay?”
She takes a step away and cocks her head to one side. “Are you looking for excuses to get close to me, Zac Wright?”
