Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
“I’m not leaving here without seeing those badges,” she says, pointing at me while I return to stand in front of her. Damn, being like this with her is easy in some ways. Having known Margot for so long, I can talk to her without any thought to how she’ll perceive me, and that’s freeing. Comforting. But God, she’s also on my table in a dress, and there’s a knot in my stomach asking to be untied. Has been begging to be untied for a long time. By her.
“So, if I never show these badges to you, you’ll never leave?”
Another sip of beer before she leans back on her hands, drawing my attention to her tits, so full and soft beneath the slightly see-through material of her dress. “That’s one way to make me stay.” I’m fighting the urge to drop what’s in my hands and kiss her when she straightens again with a sucked-in breath. “You keep them on a hanger!”
Keep what?
Oh right. The badges.
“Yup. Are you swooning yet?”
“Show me!”
I concede the losing battle against my grin, turning around and hopping up on the table to join her. She takes another pull of the beer, and I pluck it from her hands, setting it aside. Then I lay the sash full of badges in her lap.
“Oh,” she breathes, running her fingers around my Emergency Preparedness badge. “Dean, they’re beautiful. How did you earn this one?”
“Uh.” I scrub at the back of my neck. “I had to demonstrate how to prevent, mitigate, and respond in the event of an emergency. My camp experience more or less earned me that one. You’re really only required to pass an interview about how you would handle a potentially catastrophic event, like a hurricane, drowning individual, or fire, but—”
“All of those things have happened during camp.”
“Not in a long time, thankfully.”
“But you’re prepared, if they do.”
I think about making some self-deprecating comment, but she’s visibly proud of me, and that makes it acceptable to be proud of myself too. “Yes.”
She smiles at me long enough that I’m obsessing about kissing her again, but she ducks her head and moves on to the next patch. “Personal Fitness. Ooh. How do they award that one?”
“A twelve-week regimen. It’s . . . not a big deal, I was doing something similar already.”
“‘I was doing something similar already,’” she echoes, mimicking my voice. “They’re a big deal. They’re all a big deal.”
“Thanks.”
“Although, they might want to rethink awarding you this Communication badge, because I’ve been trying to communicate my affections to you for years with no luck.”
“I deserve that,” I say, wincing. “Although I would argue that Communicating with Margot should be an entirely separate badge.”
“A whole sash of badges.”
“They’d be worth earning.”
Blushing, she runs the pad of her index finger over the Family Life badge. Without saying anything, she looks at me, expression somber, and waits.
“They let me count the camp as my family,” I explain quietly. “Consistently perform chores. Complete a project to benefit your family. Those are the basic requirements for the badge. The new bunks in Unicorn Cabin were my project, actually. I built them in the offseason.” My smile is wry. “I didn’t know one of them was going to be used as a serenity bunk at the time.”
“Any bunk can be a serenity bunk,” she whispers. “It’s a state of mind.”
Damn. I can’t stop smiling. “I see.”
Margot is quiet for a few seconds. “I think about you when camp isn’t in session. How you’re up here alone. I’ve thought of coming to visit you so many times.”
My heart flops sideways. “You have?”
She nods. “Would you have let me in or called the police?”
I don’t even pretend to think about it. Not after she found out I called her a catastrophe. She’s never going to wonder how much I value her. Not ever again. “I’d have carried you in,” I say, adding gravity to every word. “I will carry you in here when camp is over and you keep coming back to visit me.”
Slowly, she glows, her breath catching a little. “I think we can make that happen.”
Hope swells into something bigger inside me. More solid. Plans. We have them. We have each other. “Good.”
“I’ll try to carry you into my apartment when you come to visit me, but I might need to invest in a back brace.”
We’re laughing, clearly relieved that us seeing each other beyond camp is a given. Still, I need to let her know in advance that it won’t be the camp-like adventure she’s expecting. “It’s quiet around here when camp is over. It’s not going to feel the same as it does in June and July. People . . . leave this place. They don’t stay. Sometimes they can’t help leaving and other times they can. But it always goes back to being quiet.”