Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) (12 page)

When she’s ready, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, I walk slowly into the water. The current is gentle enough and the water not very deep, so that’s not a problem. What troubles me a little are the slick stones and the additional weight on my back that makes balancing quite difficult. We’re almost in the middle of the brook when I trip over a rock that’s protruding upward. As I stumble forward, struggling to keep my balance, Chloe nearly chokes me and screeches, “Oh my
God
, you’re going to kill us both!” That’s not exactly helpful, and the shriek hurts like hell in my ear.

“Shut up back there! No one’s going to die,” I growl with some effort, fighting to find a safe stance again. “But if you scream into my ear like that again, I’ll let the bloodsuckers have you.” There’s water in my shoes already, and my pants are soaking to above my knees. In the sizzling heat, I wouldn’t mind the cooling, if it wasn’t for the memory of hundreds of leeches stuck to Shawn Perkins’s body four years ago. I really don’t want to follow that act.

Carefully, I walk on, testing with my toes for any more rocks in the way before taking the next step, and the next. It’s not far to the other side anymore. Just a few more steps. I swallow, forging on. Chloe is stiff as a stick on my back, and within her chokehold I can hardly breathe, but at least she’s quiet. Only a little whimpering fills my ear as she presses her forehead to my shoulder, hiding her face, but that’s okay.

The other side of the stream is almost within reach when a pit causes me to stumble forward. Chloe cries out, crushing my windpipe, her heels digging into my groin. Oh damn! The pain makes me cough, and dots fill my vision. Thank God the deepest part of the creek is behind us, so I don’t dip under when I crash forward on my knees. Hands braced on dry ground already, I break my fall. Chloe is off my back faster than lightning and scrambles onto the shore. I drag myself out after her and just lie there, struggling to bite down a pained whine after her kick to my balls.

Her hand cautiously touching my shoulder, she leans down. “Are you all right?”

“Yep. Fine,” I croak, digging my fingers into the grass. “Just don’t talk to me for a minute—”

She sucks in a hissing breath between her teeth. “I’m so sorry…”

Certainly not half as sorry as I am. While my front is drenched, she didn’t even catch a splatter.

When the pain starts to fade, I sit up and scan for any bloodsuckers on me. The protection paid off; nothing nasty sticks to my clothes or managed to crawl underneath. After I’m done retying my shoelaces, Chloe’s hand appears in my vision. I cast a scrutinizing look up at her. Her face torn with guilt, her eyes say sorry but also thanks. Probably for saving her from leech attacks. As I take her hand, she pulls me to my feet then hands me the paintball gun. I strap the weapon over my shoulder and head off, knowing she’ll follow me without an added invitation.

A few steps later, I shoot her a quick sideways glance and tell her, “You owe me, you know. For the piggyback ride.”

Instantly, her nose crinkles in a grimace. “Not more lessons. Please…”

She’s already set with two, that should do for the summer. No, I have something different in mind. “Just an answer, how about that?”

Her gaze turns wary. “To what question?”

Well, there are a million. I tuck my hands in my pockets then pull them out again when the wet fabric feels nasty. What I desperately want to know is why the hell she lied…back then. But we aren’t really there. Yet. Maybe I’ll get my answers sometime this summer. For today, however, we better start with something simple. “Why do you hate it here so much?”

She purses her lips, and I wonder if she’ll brush me off instead of answering. Finally, she heaves a deep sigh and says, “Because nothing in the past two years has gone according to plan.” She tilts her head to stare me hard in the eyes. “At all.”

“And your plan was to go to London for drama school?”

“Yes. Right after high school. But there was this little mishap with the car—”

I chuckle. Only she would call a drunk-driving accident a
little mishap
.

“—and the probation and community service hours, and I couldn’t go. So I canceled everything and made new plans. To go at the beginning of this summer.”

“But you couldn’t go because you haven’t clocked your hours yet.”

“Right.”

“And now you’re stuck here with us for the greater part of the summer.”

“Yes.”

“Must be frustrating.”

She lifts her eyebrows at me, coupled with a reprimanding look.

I can’t help but laugh. “All right, I get it now.”

As we face a slope, I climb up first. The lake lies only a few steps ahead now, and in less than ten minutes, we should be back at the boys’ camp. The last bit of the hike went by much faster than I’d expected. I turn around, holding out my hand to her, and help her up. “I have another question.”

“Sure you do…” she replies with sarcasm.

“Have you ever thought about maybe making the best of it?”

“Oh God, I
tried
,” she calls out, throwing her hands in the air. “But with you continually dumping some stupid duties on me, it’s really hard, you know. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to drive me completely insane for some reason.”

No. Not completely. Just a little. For old times’ sake. I hold that back and instead probe carefully, “Is dancing with the girls really so terrible?” The times I watched her at the end of this week, she seemed like she was having at least a little bit of fun.

Chloe snarls, or sighs, or both. Whatever it is, it’s a weird sound she makes, and it drags my gaze to her. “I found an instructor. Blondie. She’s good, and the kids do what she says.”

I know who she means from watching them every morning, but still I say, “Blondie certainly has a name, too.”

Her sharp eyes burn holes in my face. A long moment later, she drawls, “Addison.”

Jesus Christ. I half expected her to call me
Four
again for only daring to suggest she call people by their names. Glad she didn’t. “And the acting lessons? What about those?”

She bites her lip, her gaze returning to the narrow path before us. “It was a mean trick for the girls to play.”

“I know you think so, but that wasn’t my question. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, she readjusts her dirty ponytail and murmurs, “Maybe…a little bit.” Then she casts me a smirk. “But paintball was awful, no matter how you put it.”

Seeing where that’s coming from, I don’t contradict her…out loud. I, for one, found parts of it very entertaining.

“Anyway, what do you think?” she adds a minute later. “Which team won the game?”

“Honestly, I don’t think
any
one made it back unmarked.” Not from what we heard Grey and his brother saying before. And I shot them.

A shrug rolls off her shoulder, her mouth twitching into a tiny, amicable smile. “
We
did.”

My world stops turning for an infinitesimal moment. She’s right. I didn’t shoot the cat. Instead, I spent half the day hiking through the woods with her, letting her ensnare me. Shit, I can’t believe I simply tossed away rock-hard principles I’ve been holding on to for years. And in the blink of an eye! Only because she lay on top of me for a moment and may have let me kiss her.

On the other hand, the hike wasn’t so bad. Chloe can be fun…in her own helpless way. She’s tough and vulnerable at the same time, which makes her almost sweet. And at least she’s trying with the kids.

Jesus! I’m pathetic. I’m trying to see something loveable where there’s only selfishness. Always has been. Why would I be so stupid and believe she’s changing now, of all times? Because she didn’t spit in my face when I touched her cheek? Yeah, very smart, Andrews.

We round the corner to the camp, the carefree chatter of the youngsters drifting to us from afar. Some of them are lying in the grass, others hang out by the picnic tables, munching on sandwiches the kitchen staff has prepared. Most of them are still wearing their paintball gear, and all of them are splattered with paint. They cheer for us when they see us coming, but I don’t feel cheerful at all.

Chloe is heading toward the table with Julie and the girls. She doesn’t notice when I stop in my tracks. I put on my mask, lift the gun, take aim at her, and shout, “Summers!”

Whirling around, her smile drops fast.

“You don’t take prisoners in paintball,” I drawl and shoot her straight in the chest.

She staggers a tiny step backward, then freezes on the spot, looking down at herself to where her black chest protector is now splashed with bright-green paint. When her gaze finds mine again, her face is pale with shock. She swallows, her eyes narrowing in a pitiful, puzzled way. The moment between us seems frozen forever.

“Why did you do that?” she whispers. I only hear it because all the cheery conversations in the camp behind her have stopped. Countless eyes are set on me.

All of a sudden, Addison Cooper jumps on the table, her paintball gun in her hands, and yells, “He shot our alpha cat! Death to the Wolf!” A wild roar breaks out as the entire horde of girls finds their weapons. Next thing I know, a million paintballs zoom through the air, exploding everywhere on my body. And not only are they coming from the girls but from the boys, too.

Going down in the fire, I cover my head with my arms, laughing until I can take no more. “Surrender!” I shout, lying on the ground, hands lifted. “Please! I surrender!”

The crossfire ceases, two or three stray balls hitting me on the legs and shoulder. Then it’s quiet. I don’t know what’s going on, because my mask is also splashed with paint. Hesitantly, I pull it off, looking up into the sunlit sky. A shadow falls over me. I can make out Chloe’s silhouette, but only when she leans down to me do I also notice her sneer.

From next to me, she picks up my gun and presses the mouth of it to my chest. “You should never mess with a Tiger,” she drawls, her face way too friendly. Then she pulls the trigger.

Ouch.

*

I slide into my chair at the counselors’ table. My fellow counselors are already tucking in after an exhausting day. Chloe looks up from her meal and cracks a grin. “What took you so long, Four? Couldn’t get the color out of your hair?”

Perhaps it’s her smiling eyes or the cheerful tone that affects me, but for once, her calling me Four doesn’t bother me a bit. Or maybe I’m just starting to like the name. As for the color, yes, I had to wash my hair like five times to get all the funky streaks out. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Grey claps me on the shoulder and laughs. “Sorry, dude, but we all did.”

From a bowl in the middle of the table, I scoop a load of chicken nuggets onto my plate. “I can see why the girls shot me. But you, too? That ain’t funny, man.” With a chuckle, I spear one nugget, dip it in barbecue sauce then bite off half of it.

“Revenge,” he tells me around a mouthful of fries. “I know that you were the one who sneaked up on me and Collin by the creek. Also, you aren’t supposed to shoot girls from the back. Not nice.”

I lift my eyes to Chloe’s, locking burning gazes with her, and smirk. “I made her turn around first.”

Chloe’s answer is a set of tight dimples in her cheeks that reveal her suppressed smile. But she looks down quickly and continues eating her dinner.

“How’s your leg doing, anyway?” I ask her two nuggets later.

Pulling up her nose, she doesn’t look so happy. “The cut is deeper than I thought. It kept bleeding when I showered.”

“You should put a Band-Aid on it.”

“Why? You think your bandana isn’t good enough anymore?” she jokes.

From what I saw when I came in, she’s wearing a black skirt tonight. With her legs under the table, there’s no way to tell, but now I’m wondering if she still has my bandana tied around her thigh.

“There’s some stuff in the sickroom,” I tell her and start to add that she really needs to put something on that wound, but someone from her team walks up to our table right then. Kristina Ahrens. The girl fumbles nervously with her auburn locks as she stops, her gaze skating from one of us to the other.

“Hey,” Chloe calls out. Her cheery voice welcoming the girl hits me right in the gut.

“Hi,” the girl replies, then she turns to me and says, “Hello, Justin.”

“Hi, Kristina.” Since she’s apparently here to talk to me, I use a napkin on my lips and prompt her, “What’s up?”

She clears her throat. “I noticed how well you play basketball. I’d really like to play, too, but I’m afraid I’m not good enough. So I was wondering if…maybe…you could teach me to play?”

Chloe coughs, and a load of chewed chicken hits me in the chest. What. The.
Hell
? I cut her a flabbergasted look. “Gross.”

“Sorry,” she croaks, quickly holding her hand in front of her mouth and coughing some more.

After wiping the mash off my shirt, I turn back to Kristina. “Um, sure. We can practice a little tomorrow afternoon. How does that sound?”

“Great!” Her voice is far too squeaky, and her face lights up with joy. “I’ll see you then.”