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He nods and swallows. “As much as my brother drives me crazy, I’m sure I do the same to him. And we still managed to have our share of fun growing up.” He glances at the children playing in the sandbox. “Honestly, I can’t imagine being an only child. And I see my parents together, still happy after all these years, with two absolute dopes for sons.”
“Maybe onlyonedope.” My mouth goes crooked. “But I’m not saying which.”
Now the mother gets busy wrangling her little boy and girl out of the sandbox. She still has the baby on her hip, and she’s steering the others with her one free hand. When the baby starts to fuss, she ignores the protests of all three kids and herds everyone toward the parking lot.
Spencer’s gaze slips back to me. “Anyway my folks could’ve used a couple daughters. A counterbalance to Frank and me.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But you never know who or what your kids will turn out to be. That’s why they’re definitely not in my game plan.”
“Really?” His brow flies up. “But you’re so good with Daisy. I just assumed…” His voice dies off.
“My goal is to be her favorite aunt. And the new baby’s too, whenever Brooke finally pops. And Darby’s and Liv’s kids, whenever they come.” I wave my fork in the air. “Auntie Tess forever!”
Spencer takes a beat, then says, “Huh.” Afterward we’re both quiet again. For the next several minutes, I shovel food into my mouth to keep from stumbling onto another sticky subject. Spencer navigates his chopsticks like a pro. Meanwhile, I’m pushing noodles at my face like the fork is a bulldozer.
“You know, I can teach you to use chopsticks,” he says, finally breaking the silence. “If we ever have Chinese food together again.”
When he lifts his sticks and clicks them at me, I can practically feel his hand around mine, working to position my fingers correctly. Warm. Strong. Competent. I swallow hard, wishing my mouth weren’t empty. “Well, you won’t be getting to camp until after your library and car wash shifts,” I say, “so I don’t think we’ll be eating together much.”
I pop another chunk of beef in my mouth and chew. Chew. Chew. Anything to get my mind off Spencer’s strong hands.
“I guess you’re right.” He sets his chopsticks down. “But that reminds me. Ishouldprobably see the campsite before we start. I’ve never been there. And if I’m going to be sleeping there every night, I figure I should at least see my bed first.”
“Gah.” I choke on the beef. Now I’m picturing him in a bunk, just one cabin over from mine. Does he snore? Wear boxer shorts? I shake off the image of him cradling two pillows in his arms with another two under his head.
“So.” He tilts his head. “Will you take me there?”
“I… well… we… I’ve still got a lot to get ready before Monday. Like setting up cabins and posting the schedules. I’d rather not show you around until I have everything exactly how I want it.”
“Well, listen to you.” Spencer arches a brow. “Are my perfectionist tendencies already rubbing off?”
“You wish.” I cough out a laugh, which just makes me choke again.Great. Super perfect.
Spencer waits until I’ve gagged down my food. Now my eyes are watering, and I must look ridiculous. I’m just glad I didn’t spit any half-chewed beef onto my plate.
“How about we visit the campsite on Saturday, after I’m done at the car wash? That’ll give you the rest of the week to prepare. We could meet somewhere first, and I’ll follow you over.”
My stomach twists. “Where?” I blurt.
“I don’t know.” His eyes crinkle, and I can’t tell if he’s amused by me or confused. “How about Beverly’s Beanery? Seven o’clock?” He takes a beat, studying me. Like for an exam. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, but my voice is quaky.
His eyes bore into mine. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“I’m just a little nervous. About camp.” My breath catches.
“That’s hard to believe,” he says. “You always seem ready to take on the world. No holds barred.”
“Good.” I blink in the dimming light. “That’s what I want everyone to think.”
Spencer tugs at the knot in his tie. I probably got a little too real for him. “I should get back to the desk,” he says. “It’s time for Kayla’s break.”
Something shifts behind my ribs. A small tickle in the center. “Wait. We haven’t read our fortunes yet.”
We both pick up our cookies. The wrappers crinkle as we tear at the plastic and crack our cookies open to free the slips of paper. While Spencer adjusts his glasses to read, I pop my cookie in my mouth.
“Mine’s wrong,” he says, dropping his fortune on the table.
