Chapter Twenty-four
Elena
Itwastooearlyto wake up. Way too early, even for me. But my mind wouldn’t let me stay asleep, even though I was all snuggled up in my own personal heated blanket.
I wondered if Lachlan knew how cute he was when he was sleeping. He looked his age, maybe even younger, with the extra pink in his cheeks and softness of his mouth.
Oh, the twinges were coming hard and fast. I had to get out of bed or he’d catch me getting gooey over him—and that wasn’t part of our light and fun agreement.
Or maybe it was. Who the hell knew what constituted as light and fun?
Slipping my stolen hoodie over my short nightie, I quietly left my sleeping man in bed. After I made coffee, I sat on the deck with my laptop, going over my notes from my and Sal’s meeting with our startup owner, Shana Dade.
At first, I hadn’t been very thrilled about creating a business plan for this particular project. The only summer camp I’d done as a child was going house to house with my nanny to where her nanny friends worked so I could swim in a different pool while they socialized. Most summers, I hung out at Pen’s house or with my ex-bestie, Grace. Until high school. Then there was cheer camp, but that wasn’tcampcamp.
Camping outdoors? Making s’mores and crafts out of sticks? That was as foreign to me as my summers were to Shana Dade.
By the time Sal and I had walked out of the meeting with Shana, I’d been sold. She made luxury adult summer camp enticing, and, on the flip side, she had sold me on the importance of kids getting back to nature, especially underprivileged city kids. Her business model was solid, and her plan to use existing resorts to launch the adult portion would be especially attractive to investors.
She was already running her program at a wilderness resort in California and had her sights set on a luxury ranch resort in southern Wyoming. The pictures she showed us of the property were stunning. I was teeming with ideas to expand on what she had already implemented, and Sal was all over working out the numbers.
I clicked on the website for Shana’s dream resort, Sweet Brush River Ranch. Two former presidents’ children had been married there. There was an expansive lodge as well as cabins. There was a Michelin-starred, farm-to-table restaurant, and a spa that used indigenous ingredients and offered every service under the sun.
I’d meant to ask Lachlan if he was familiar with this place, but when he’d stepped into my room last night and given methat look, all my thoughts had been wiped out.
There was a knock on the front door, startling me out of my research. Judging by my empty coffee cup, a good amount of time had passed, but I had no idea how much. Setting my laptop on the kitchen counter, I went to answer the front door.
Through the blurred panes of glass on each side of the door, I made out the shape of my parents and came to a halt. I hadn’t been expecting them. They hadn’t called. Why the hell were they here?
My mother was waving at me, so there was no chance of me hiding and pretending I didn’t know they were here.
Balls.
I opened the door, a bright smile plastered to my face. “What a surprise!”
Dad gave me a kiss on the cheek and pushed by me into the house. Mom air-kissed both cheeks and held up her full hands.
“We brought breakfast for everyone,” she announced.
I gestured around the empty living room. “Unfortunately, everyone’s still asleep. I’m not even sure if they’re here or with their boyfriends.”
I followed my parents into the kitchen, took one of the bags my mother was carrying, and set it on the island. Dad was in inspection mode, opening and closing cabinets, running his finger along surfaces. Seeing him like that inmyhouse raised my hackles.
I cocked my hip. “Aren’t landlords supposed to give twenty-four-hour notice before entering the property?”
He scoffed. “You’re taking care of the place. What do you need notice for?”
My mother hugged me from the side. “It looks great in here, honey. You girls are keeping up the place so well. Don’t let your father get to you. When he was in college, he lived in a cesspit.”
Dad tucked his hands in his trousers, leaning his backside against the counter. “It was only a cesspit between our weekly maid service.”
Mom tutted. “That isn’t something to be proud of, Gil.”
He waved her off. “What do you expect from four men who’d never been expected to pick up after themselves a day in their lives?”
Mom mimed cracking a whip. “At least I was able to whip you into shape a little. No more socks everywhere around the house.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve always hated wearing socks.”