“I assume you know you’re on the children’s side of camp, though.” His lips purse as though he’s full of judgment. My emotions turn from embarrassed to irritated in a flash.
“If you’re suggesting some really basic thinking here, you’re out of line. I told you, I thought the area was private. It’s after midnight. I wasn’t expecting children around.” I clear my throat. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be around.”
“You’re lucky I was. That seaweed had you wrapped up pretty good.” His shoulders flex as he stands shirtless, his shorts dripping wet onto the wood flooring as he turns away.
I strip off his wet flannel and hang it on the nearby hat hanger before wrapping myself in the stiff blue blanket that smells like mothballs and eucalyptus. “I would’ve pulled away from the seaweed on my own. I only went under for a second.” I pause, knowing that’s not true. Somehow, that seaweed got wrapped around my ankle tight and I was panicking. “What were you doing down there, anyway?”
“Not expecting to see a naked woman swimming, if that’s what you're asking. Are you decent?”
“As decent as I’m going to get,” I say, tightening the blanket around my chest. “What were you down there for, then? It’s past midnight.”
“I was feeling like a piece of shit for the way our conversation went earlier. I went back to the cabin, passed out, whittled some wood, then decided to take a walk to clear my head.”
My brows narrow. “You whittled some wood? Really? Is that code for something much more lewd? You weren’t whittling this wood by the lake, were you?” My face scrunches up when I talk, but a part of me is kind of turned on at the thought of him getting aroused while he watched me.
“Nope,” he chuckles, “actually whittled wood. I’m trying to make some kind of animal but it’s turning into something completely different. Anyway, I’m sorry I bothered you at the lake and I’m really sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have closed up and walked away like that. I’m working through some shit myself and it always catches me off guard.”
“It’s my fault,” I say, feeling kind of bad for the way he’s standing there. He’s still sopping wet himself, and he was trying to help me. “Why don’t you sit down and talk. I saw another blanket up in that closet. They’re not the softest, but they get the job done. Besides, I’m not sure I can sleep after all this excitement, and you said you’re not tired.”
He looks toward me hesitantly and I realize now that I’m doing what I always do with men. I make their problems my personal challenge to conquer.Abandonment issues?I can fix it.Anxiety disorder?Let me show you the way. It’s a sick cycle that I can’t seem to break free of. I probably need therapy myself.
“Don’t feel pressured,” I say. “I’m famous for over talking and—”
“I’d like to sit for a bit,” he says, sliding his heavy army print cargos to the ground. He does it unabashedly, leaving behind a pair of tight grey underwear that hug every part of hispackageperfectly in place. It’s now that I see how fit he is. I’d noticed that he was muscular earlier, but seeing him now, undressed, nearly naked, in the dim light of the room, has all my lady parts starting to buzz. He’s chiseled and strong like a work horse. Every inch of him looks like he’s brute forced his way through every obstacle in life. I try to divert my gaze away, but they keep scanning to the obvious cucumber that’s laying flaccid beneath his tight underwear.
“My eyes are up here,” he laughs, stretching the blanket around his shoulders.
That feeling to run comes back again and my stomach starts to ache. “Sorry, it’s like a freak show down there. I couldn’t look away.”
“Freak show?”He smiles. “I’m not sure I ever heard it described like that before, but I see where you’re going. If you’re telling me it should be on display, I guess I should be flattered.”
I roll my eyes and snuggle into my blanket tighter as he sits on the opposite end of the couch. I should start with asking him why he feels the need to display his huge cock like some underwear model, but considering I was just rescued naked in a lake, I decide to leave that one off the table. Besides, anymore mention of his dick and I may never dry off.
“So, tell me about yourself,” I say. “What do you do when you’re not fixing everything here?” I figure this is a safe place to start the conversation, but time will tell.
“Well, I work here summers and plow the roads up in Rugged Mountain during the winter months. It’s not the big career that you have started for yourself, but it earns me an honest living and I like thinking I’m doing something for the community.”
“Rugged Mountain? Where’s that?”
“Colorado, about an hour outside of Colorado Springs. Beautiful country up that way if you ever get a chance to visit. I assume you’re from Virginia?” He rubs his hand over his beard as he talks, flexing those big biceps with every extension. Someone should tell him to stop.
“Nope. I’m just here for the summer. I live in Massachusetts, in a small town called Dairy. Have you ever heard of it?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not too familiar with the northeast. This is the furthest I’ve ventured past Colorado and every year after about four weeks I’m aching to get back to the mountains. Do you like Dairy?”
“It’s okay. I’m not sure I would still be there if it weren’t for my friend Susan. We’ve been inseparable for years. I miss her already. Maybe as much as you miss the mountains,” I laugh. “Is your whole family back in Rugged Mountain?”
He nods and pinches his lips together. “Every single one of them. My cousins own most of the land out there, and I meet my mother twice a week for dinner. What about you? Is your whole family up in Massachusetts?”
He didn’t mention his father again, which I make note of, but don’t press. Not after earlier.
“Not really. Once I went off to college, they started a new phase of their lives. Now they’re off to exotic places constantly and I almost never see them. It’s gotten to the point that my friend Susan is the only consistent person in my life. I should probably branch out more.” I laugh nervously. “I usually don’t talk about myself.”
“Maybe you should,” he says leaning in a little closer, a slick grin on his face. “Why do you think you fear opening up to others?”
I smile. “I see what you’re doing here.”
He leans back, and the blanket slips off his shoulders. “Is it that obvious?”