Page 8 of If the Summer Lasted Forever
He’s effortlessly stylish, casual yet purposely so. The entire family is ridiculously pretty. I feel self-conscious even though I took that extra twenty minutes getting ready this morning.
“Every time I see you, you’re helping customers or running errands or” —he nods to the watering can— “planting flowers.”
I shrug. “It takes a lot of work to run this place.”
He nods, still studying me. Then he lifts the small camera and nods to it. “Do you mind?”
I eye the lens. “Do I mind what?”
Smiling, he begins recording and focuses on my face. “Tell me about yourself.”
I stare at him, incredulous.
His eyes meet mine, and he chuckles. “Just humor me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m stalking you.” He grins at his joke and makes an adjustment to the settings. “It’s just my thing. It’s a nice way to remember the places we’ve been and the people we meet.”
My stomach flutters at the thought of Landon wanting to remember me, but at the same time, my chest constricts because something about the statement resonates with me.Maybe it’s not so different being the one always leaving from being the one always left behind.
“What’s your name?” he prompts.
I look at his face instead of his camera. “Forgot already?” I tease.
His eyes move from the screen to mine, and they lock. “Lacey.”
He’s a summer boy, an obnoxious voice of reason whispers in my ear.
“Come on. Tell me about yourself,” he prompts again, his tone a hint softer.
“Um. My name is Lacey.” I’m breathless from nerves and something more, but I try to hide it. “My grandparents built this campground, and my parents bought it from them about fifteen years ago.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. It’s just me.”
A wicked grin flickers over his face. “Want a couple? I have extras, and I don’t mind sharing.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I say with a laugh, trying to relax.
“Why should people stay at Campfire Cabins and RV?” He changes his tone so he sounds like he’s conducting a real interview and raises a single eyebrow, pinning me with a gaze that’s full of good humor.
“Because I plant thirty-six barrels of flowers every single summer, and it would be a shame if no one ever came to see them.”
He looks at the screen again, watching me without making eye contact. “And the girl at the front desk is pretty. Don’t forget that.”
I blink at him, and a startled smile steals across my face before I can stop it.
“Especially when she blushes.” Landon turns off the camera and looks up, giving me a friendly jerk of his chin as he heads back to his campsite.
CHAPTER FOUR
My mother isan odd sort of artist. If books and television are to be believed, you’d think she’d be scatterbrained and prone to whims. She’s not.
Every night, she has a homecooked dinner on the table. (Well, some nights she delegates the chore to me, but either way, it’s there, and it’s homecooked.) She makes sure we eat perfectly balanced meals with seasonal produce, and there’s usually something homemade for dessert, even if it’s just a jar full of cookies in the kitchen.
She’s big on family time, good grades, brushing your teeth before bed, and grilling her daughter about the “cute” boy that’s staying in Site Twenty-nine.
