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“And I get a tent, don’t I?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m only there to keep Georgia company—I don’t have to lead any activities or anything?”
“That’s all.”
She groaned. “Tell me what to bring.”
Chapter 8
Dan glanced over the fire pit to where Sarah stood, confusion on her face as she watched Patrik’s demonstration once again. She hadn’t been joking. She wasn’t camp literate at all. Ever since John had dropped her off an hour ago, Sarah had seemed more helpless than a kitten on an iceberg as the boys flew around the site putting up tents, getting the fire going, preparing the evening meal.
He swallowed laughter and continued stirring the stew. Even blowing up air mattresses seemed beyond her ability. Patrik, a Swedish exchange student, had explained the procedure several times.
“And the spout thing goes in where?”
“In the hole.”
“But it’s not working! It’s not going up.”
“Maybe there’s a hole.”
“What hole are you talking about?”
“This hole!”
“Man.” Dan looked up to catch Boyd shaking his head, and they shared another private chuckle. “She’s nothing like your friend Beau, is she?”
That was for certain. Being a Christian and having a cool accent was about all Sarah shared in common with his goalie friend Beau Nash, who had helped out last year.
He’d warned them about the princess’s self-confessed ineptitude—she hadn’t sold herself short. But at least she seemed to get on with Georgia and the boys okay. When he’d introduced her, Dan hadn’t been able to help but notice the effect Sarah had had on some of the boys. He didn’t blame them for drooling.
Three hours later, the boys—and Georgia—were all in their tents, but not asleep judging from the giggles coming from multiple tents. Dan glanced over to where Sarah sat on the other side of the fire, her book propped on her knees as she tried to read by torchlight. The wind shifted, sending smoke her direction. She shuffled up the big log, then resumed reading.
Quiet descended, broken only by the soft strum of Patrik’s guitar and the sizzle as Boyd added leaves to the fire. The brighter glow illuminated the gold in Sarah’s hair, hanging loose around her shoulders. A few minutes later she coughed and moved again.
“What’s with you and that campfire?” Boyd said. “Smoke follows you wherever you go.”
She sighed. “What can I say? I’m a smoke magnet.”
Dan caught her gaze. Smiled. “Smoke follows beauty, Princess.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed, before ducking her head in her book again. He glanced away to catch Boyd’s mouthedPrincess?and raised brows. Dan shrugged and settled back against the log, gazing into the fire as blue flames slowly licked the charred wood. He chewed the inside of his bottom lip, while in his heart, questions flirted with dreams.
* * *
Sarah yawnedand shook her head at the slumbering Georgia, whose loud snores had punctuated every minute of every hour last night, rendering sleep impossible. She crawled from her sleeping bag, unzipped the tent fly, then tripped over the dew-damped sneakers she’d inadvertently left outside last night. Wet shoes. Good times.
Blinking at the too-bright morning light and a bird’s overly enthusiastic morning song, she stumbled over to the fire Dan was coaxing to life. “Those birds are so loud.”
He glanced up. “Good morning.”
“It’s morning, anyway.” She rubbed her eyes. “So, what can I do?”
Dan stopped fiddling with twigs and smirked.
“What? Surely there’s something I can do.”
