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“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” he replies, then gives me his patented mega-wattage smile. If I’m not careful, his smile will drop me to my knees. I’m sure, though, he’d enjoy having me in exactly that place. So convenient.
However, even without the smile, the man can drop me to my knees. My original plan to drop him, even drop-kick him, was foolish, and everything has turned around on me. But the thing that frightens me the most is that I don’t care — I don’t care at all.
“If you’re dragging me out, I insist you tell me something. What is this big project?” He sighs as if dealing with a child. I don’t care what he thinks about me. Answers are justified.
“I’m taking you to the Sunriver Children’s Camp,” Tyler finally says.
“Sunriver Children’s Camp?” I ask. I’ve heard of the place. It’s a hundred-acre plot outside of the city, and a massive construction project’s going on there. “What do you have to do with that?”
“I’m partly building it,” he answers.
“How much of a part?” I ask.
“It’s kind of... well, it’s my baby.”
“You? Really? This isyourproject?” I ask. This isn’t something I expected from a spoiled playboy. For a moment he looks hesitant, but soon the look is replaced with his normal confident grin.
“Even assholes do good things once in a while.” I stand in silence. What can I say to this?
I hate this news about Tyler, hate to have something humanize him. It’s much easier for me to resist the man when I think of him as a bastard. To find he has a caring side — is unacceptable, a threat to my sanity.
Then again, don’t wealthy people look for projects as tax write-offs? That’s what this has to be, if only for the sake of my own mental health. I guess I’m about to find out.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Tyler
I’m on edge as I drive to the construction site. Insecurity isn’t me at all. But this place has been a dream of mine for years, and it’s in the final stages. Soon, the camp will open, and children with disabilities and those who are unfortunate enough to be in the foster-care system will run through the paths and take part in the multitude of activities my team and I envisioned.
I don’t understand my anxiety. All I know for sure is that I like this woman next to me. It killed me not to call her, text her, email her, hell, send a carrier pigeon to her, while I was in London. I was giving her the space she demanded. I told myself I could go a week without talking to her. It was a little less than a week, actually, but I was determined I could do it. That I missed her as much as I did isn’t exactly reassuring, but what am I going to do?
Apparently, I’m going to buy her flowers and pull her into my arms and kiss her until neither one of us can walk straight. But if Olivia doesn’t love the camp as much as I do, I’ll be... I don’t know the word I’m looking for... is ithurt? No way. I can’t be hurt by that — can I?
I don’t really know this woman, but in a short time, she’s turned my world upside down more than once, and I like her,reallylike her.
The more I learn about her, the more I want to spend a lot more time with her. I didn’t think that possible after the last woman — and her affinity for closets...
“Wow. I’ve seen the specs of this place, Tyler, but looking at something on paper and actuallyseeingit are two entirely different things,” Olivia says, breaking me from my reverie. We’re pulling up in front of the main lodge —15,000 square feet and three stories, made of logs, with giant picture windows and inviting doors. It’s certainly impressive.
“This is the gathering place for the campers. I wanted it to be big and beautiful, and more importantly, I wanted it to be inviting. I want this entire experience to be the best of these kids’ lives. Some of them won’t have anything else like it.” I open the driver’s door and come around to her side of the car. She steps out and walks with me to the lodge. The doors are open and we can hear the noise of power tools.
“We have crews going seven days a week. Summer’s around the corner, and I want to be open by July. We have less than a month to go.”
“How much more do you have to do before it’s complete?”
“We’re almost finished with construction, then we have to decorate, get the special-needs equipment installed, test it out, and wait for the final inspection. I’ve hired the best of the best, so it’s moving along quickly,” I tell her before beginning the grand tour.
We go through the lodge, which has a state-of-the-art kitchen, medical rooms, lounge areas, game areas, and private nooks with desks for children who need a few moments to themselves.
“A lot of autistic children need to have quiet time,” I say, “and we’ve tried to anticipate the needs of all of the children who will be coming.” Olivia listens to me explain how the rooms will be used. After leaving the lodge, we make our way through a maze of trails with clearly marked signs.
There are several sections to the camp, three-sided cabins taking up a huge portion, and some fully enclosed cabins taking up another section. One area has a cluster of yurts, and another area is denser with trees and brush and has places carved out for tents and fire pits.
Each kind of camping experience you could ever imagine is being put into place. The paths are wide and paved so they’re easily wheelchair accessible, and so are the recreation areas, where the kids can shoot bows and arrows, learn how to make a fire, or take part in any number of other camp activities.
When I stop at one of the enclosed cabins and open the door, she smiles as she steps inside. This one has the name “Rocker Hut” on the outside, and it will be a budding musician’s dream come true.
Instruments are painted on the walls, the wooden bunk beds are carved with musical notes, the floor has a drum set etched into it, and the curtains look as if they’re on fire. The closet holds a number of real musical instruments, and in the corner a keyboard sits waiting.
