Flirting with Boys (4 page)

C
eleste!”

Celeste heard her name over the murmur of the packed staff room and whipped her head around. Through the rows of Pinyon employees, she could see Nick's arm waving from the first row. Celeste halted. Was he insane? Travis was standing right next to her! What was he doing at a staff meeting anyway? She glanced up at Travis. His eyebrows were raised but he wasn't saying anything…at least, not yet.

“Uh, here, Travis, you want to sit here?” Celeste pointed randomly at two chairs. If they sat down, they wouldn't be able to see Nick smirking at them.

“Everyone, everyone! Your attention, please.” Dad was standing at the front. Celeste felt her phone buzz in
her pocket and slid it out. Devon was texting her. Celeste kept one eye on her father and pressed read.
CAN'T MAKE STAFF MTG—HANGING OUT W/STEFAN. TAKE NOTES
4
ME
!

Celeste stuffed her phone into her pocket. Great. Now she didn't even have Devon for moral support. At the front of the room, Dad had started talking.

“I've called this all-staff meeting to discuss an important and exciting event that is going to take place at the resort this summer, and which will require the help and cooperation of everyone here.”

Celeste wondered what the heck her father could be talking about. Maybe they were finally going to install that infinity pool he'd always wanted. Except why would they do that in the middle of the high season? Maybe someone famous was coming to stay, like George Clooney or something.

“Many of you may know Larry Saunders and his wife, Kathy. They are not only longtime guests and dear friends of Pinyon, they are also movie producers with Blue Swan Productions in Los Angeles. Larry believes that Pinyon has a lot to offer his most recent venture—a new film festival held”—he paused dramatically—“right here at Pinyon Ranch!”

Everyone gasped, and whispers and murmurs ran through staff. Then Rick started applauding, followed by the rest of the staff. Mr. Saunders took the floor, giving details about when the festival would be, how many days
it would last, and what kinds of parties were planned for the different films, but Celeste barely heard him. Holding a festival would mean that every guesthouse would be packed, and not just with average rich folks from L.A. Instead, they'd get all the Hollywood types: producers, directors, stars, and all of
their
guests. This was the kind of event that could move Pinyon from a minor player on the A-list to the very top. Basically, this festival was going to be the best thing to happen to the resort in its entire existence. And, she realized, a ton of work.

Celeste's dad stood up at the front again. “Thank you, everyone, for your patience. Enjoy your evening.”

There was a general scraping of chairs and chattering as everyone got up and started collecting their things. Celeste turned to her boyfriend, but before she could say anything she noticed with dismay that Nick was making his way through the crowd over to them.

“Uh, Travis!” she said suddenly. “Hey, look, Rick's waving at us. Let's go see what he's up to tonight.” She grabbed Travis's muscular forearm and tried to pull him toward the door.

“Isn't this awesome news, Celeste?” Solomon, the cook, bobbed up in front of them, a grin stretching his broad face.

Celeste tried to do a feint around him. “Yeah! Yes! It's totally cool, Solomon. Very exciting.” She could see Nick's blond head getting closer.

“Hold on, Cel. I dropped my keys,” Travis said. He bent over to retrieve them as Nick bounded up. Trapped, Celeste stood helpless.

“Hey, beautiful,” Nick said. He was wearing a slim gray T-shirt that clung to his wiry shoulders, and his blond hair was falling into his eyes as usual. Travis froze, his back to them. Slowly, he turned around. Celeste winced. She could already see the warning vein starting to throb in the middle of his forehead. Celeste stepped in front of him. “Hi,” she said in what she hope was a friendly but politely distant voice. “This is my, uh, boyfriend. Travis.”

Nick didn't even glance at Travis. Instead, he fixed his eyes on Celeste's face. “I'm really glad you're going to be here to help with the festival, Celeste,” he said, dropping his voice a little and putting his hand on her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her cheek and stepped backwards suddenly, almost stumbling over one of the folding chairs. Unbelievable—was he actually flirting with her
right here
?

She heard Travis make a rumbling noise next to her, kind of like a bull clearing this throat. She darted a quick glance at his face. The vein was going into throbbing overdrive now and his dark eyes looked almost black. Not a good sign.
Defuse, Celeste! Defuse!

She reached down deep and pulled up the most plastic Pinyon customer service smile she could muster, the one born of ten solid years dealing with difficult guests.
“Yeah, the festival's going to be great,” she said smoothly. No one would ever have guessed her hands were shaking worse than a heroin addict's. “We're lucky to have your parents sponsoring it. They're amazing.”

Travis let out another bull rumble. Celeste switched into high gear.

“Okay! Well, we're heading out, so see you later, Nick.” She turned and grabbed Travis with the intention of shoving him toward the door with all the strength in her body.

“I'm mostly glad because I want you to help me plan my screening party for the festival,” Nick said smoothly. Celeste stopped and turned around again slowly.

There was a moment of dead silence. “Ah, what do you mean,
your
party?” Celeste asked carefully.

“You know, for my film.” Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets and blinked innocently.

Travis spoke for the first time. “What are you talking about?” His gruff voice was decidedly confrontational. Celeste winced. But Nick acted like Travis had just asked him to hang out sometime.

“I took this elective film studies course at UCLA last winter and the final project was making our own short films—writing, directing, editing, everything. My dad told me I could throw a screening party during the festival. But I've got to do all the organizing and planning myself, and you know, I'm not very good at that stuff.
That's why I'm really looking forward to us working together, Celeste.” He fixed his gaze on her again as if she were the only person in the room and gave her a small smile. The rumbling bull that was her boyfriend took a step forward. Oh crap.

Celeste narrowed her eyes. “Whatever, Nick. Obviously, someone in guest relations will assist you with your planning.” She tried to make her voice as frosty as possible.

“Good,” Nick replied, apparently unfazed. “I'll definitely need help—
your
help.” He offered them a relaxed grin. “Excuse me.” Celeste stepped aside as he brushed past, but he still managed to rub right up against her, his arm trailing against the small of her back. Suddenly, Travis let out a growl and lunged for Nick.

“Travis!” Celeste dove for his arm and hung on to it with all her body weight. Nick was casually ambling away down the aisle like nothing had happened. She clung to Travis's arm and gazed up at his face. He was breathing like a diesel truck and his whole face was bright red, except for the edges of his nostrils, which were white. He looked down at her and took a deep breath. She leaned up against him. “You want to come for a walk? I need some air.”

He nodded, and together they made their way through the emptying room and pushed out the door into the cool desert night. The quiet grounds were full of
dark shadows, and their feet left silvery footprints in the cool, dewy grass. A half-moon floated in the black sky overhead.

Travis took Celeste's hand and swung it back and forth as they walked. His good humor seemed to have been restored now that he was removed from Nick's presence.

“Must be nice to get your own screening party just because your rich dad is throwing a film festival, huh?” he said.

“Yeah,” Celeste agreed. To herself, she thought about what might be possible if she had some big-time New York editor father. Forget writing workshops in the Berkshires. She'd be straight on to an internship at
Harper's
. Goodbye family business, goodbye towel-folding, hello real job.

“You know,” she said slowly. “I wouldn't even know what to do with myself, working someplace other than here. I've never even had a real job.” She'd never actually said that out loud before.

“Hmmm?” Travis was watching a couple splashing in the pool as they passed. “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Travis looked down at her. “No, really, what did you say?”

She took a deep breath. “I said that I've lived in this Pinyon bubble, like, my whole life. What's going to happen to me when I finally escape?”

Travis looked confused. He shook his head. “I don't get it. What do you mean, what's going to happen? You'll just leave, like everyone else.”

Celeste shook her head. “No, you don't get it—”

Travis interrupted her by sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. He bent his head down to hers, but she drew away.

“What?” he said.

“Someone could come by,” she whispered, gesturing around them. As if on cue, a man in a suit with the tie pulled down came around the corner and glanced at them curiously before disappearing into the lounge. A burst of voices and music floated out to them as he opened the door.

Travis looked impatient. “Well, then let's go hang out on the golf course. No one's going to be out there at ten o'clock.”

“Okay,” Celeste started to agree, and then an idea hit her. “Hey, you want to see my secret spot?”

Travis shrugged. “Sure.”

Together, they tramped over the manicured grass of the golf course, past a pond and a sand trap until they reached the other side, where the desert plants still grew wild and tangled. She glanced around once and, seeing no one, bent down and pushed through a huge stand of prickly bushes. “Hey!” Travis whispered. “I can't get in there.”

“No, you can,” Celeste answered. “It's not as thick as
it looks.” She held the branches apart and peered through the opening at Travis. “Come on!”

He looked doubtful but bent down and climbed through, trying not to get snagged on the twigs. Once inside, he looked around. “This is cool!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know,” Celeste said. Though it only looked like a scrubby tangle from the outside, the bushes actually surrounded a perfect circle of closely spaced palmetto trees, making a thick screen so that no one could see in from the outside. In the middle of the scaly trunks was warm, smooth sand lying in ripples. Celeste sank down onto her knees. The air was warm and still and the sand felt like silk against her bare legs. She looked up at Travis, still standing above her. “Come here,” she said, reaching up and tugging at his hand.

Awkwardly, he thumped to his knees next to her.

Suddenly, an idea flashed through Celeste's mind. “Look, don't worry about Nick,” she said, squeezing Travis's hand. “Devon is the guest relations rep. That means
she
should have to deal with the whole party situation, not me. I'll just tell her that's one of her new assignments. She'll love it. And Nick can have a great new target for his obnoxiousness too. I wouldn't be surprised if we barely see him again all summer.”

Travis shrugged. “I don't care what happens, as long as he stays away from you,” he said. Then he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her. She shivered at the
friction of his skin against hers. He kissed her slowly and she felt a little jolt of electricity run all through her. The stubble on his chin rasped against her skin. The stress of the meeting began to float away. It was just her and Travis now, floating together on a bed of soft, warm kisses that were making her body go all limp and—

Travis drew his head away.

“What?” Celeste asked, her eyes still closed. “Is someone coming?”

“Are you sure there's never been anything between you guys?” Travis asked. Celeste opened her eyes. “Because he sure acts like he's more than just a customer.”

Poof
. The bed of warm kisses disappeared. Celeste shifted her knees. There was a palmetto frond poking her in the back. “Look, don't worry about it,” she soothed, reaching for Travis again. “I'm sure once he meets Devon, everyone will get along a lot better.”

For a long moment, Travis didn't reply. “Okay,” he finally said. “But that doesn't mean I have to like him.” He lay back on the sand, pulling Celeste down with him.

As she lay in her boyfriend's arms, staring at the black velvet night sky above them, Celeste thought that she might as well forget about towel-folding for this summer. Obviously, she had a much more important job in front of her: stopping Travis from bashing Nick's face in.
And stopping Nick from acting like she was standing in front of him naked. Oh yeah, and keeping the Saunders family happy, at peril to her life. Maybe she should've taken a job as secretary of defense this summer. It would probably be easier than this.

O
kay, I'm ready!” Celeste called, hanging upside down by her knees from a low tree branch. Her braids almost brushed the ground. “Hurry up, Travis, all the blood is rushing to my head.” She could feel the scaly branch pressing into the backs of her knees as she gazed at the inverted golf course.

The mid-afternoon sun was bright and glassy. The contrast between the green of the golf course and the brilliant blue of the sky almost hurt to look at. A few lone golfers were trailing across the seventh hole, but Celeste and Travis were safely hidden in the scrub on the far side. No one would come over here unless he or she was a spectacularly bad golfer.

“Hold still,” Travis said, aiming the camera. “All
right, got it.” He pressed a few buttons and studied the shot. “Cute. You look hot with your face all red and squished up like that.”

Instead of answering, Celeste swung back and forth a few times and then with a giant heave pulled herself up so she was lying on her stomach on top of the branch. “Thanks,” she said, looking down at Travis's head below her. “You know, I have a direct hit on you from up here.”

“Not for long.” Suddenly, Travis tossed the camera straight up in the air. Celeste shrieked and stuck out her hand, just barely managing to catch it. Travis scaled the tree trunk and hoisted himself onto the branch next to her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, leaning over to nuzzle her neck. Celeste giggled and leaned back.

“Okay, smile,” she said. Travis propped himself against the tree trunk and winked at the camera.

Just as she was about to press the shutter, her radio crackled. “Damn!” Celeste stuck the camera in her pocket. “I knew they'd find me.”

“That's what you get for sneaking off when you're supposed to be working, you slacker.” Travis grinned and yawned. He slid off the branch onto the sand and stretched his arms over his head. “I think it's almost time for my nap.”

Celeste unclipped the radio from her belt and pressed speak. “Yes?”

“Celeste, this is Rick,” a voice crackled through the speaker.

“Yeah?”

“A guest at the Saunders guesthouse would like you to bring over…” Celeste quickly glanced down at Travis to see if he had heard
that name
, but luckily his eyes were still closed. She turned down the volume on the radio and pressed it against her ear.

“Ah, here it is.” Rick apparently found his list. “Two towels, one glass of Perrier with lemons but no ice, a slice of wheat toast with butter and strawberry jam, and a copy of
Us Weekly
.” He paused. “Celeste?”

“Yes, I'm here,” Celeste said into the radio, resisting the urge to bang her head against the tree branch.
Us Weekly?
What did he think she was, a flight attendant? “Look, Rick, just tell him—” Her father's voice suddenly boomed in her head, like some sort of edict from God:
Keeping the Saunders family happy should be your number one priority.
Celeste gritted her teeth and sighed. “Rick?”

“Still here.”

“Tell the, ah,
guest
that I'll be right over.” She slid down from her tree perch and landed with a thump next to Travis.

“Mmm,” he muttered without opening his eyes. “Definitely nap time. Come here.” He reached for her but she stood up.

“Trav, I have to go deal with a guest situation. Rick just called over on the radio.”

“No, don't go,” Travis said dreamily. “So nice here in the sun. Let's just chill for a minute.”

Celeste smiled. His brown curls were falling over his forehead and his cheeks were flushed like a little boy's. “I can't, I have to go,” she said softly.

To her surprise, Travis opened his eyes and heaved himself up. “Yeah, I should probably get back too. Dave's going to come check up on me any minute.” He reached out and brushed some grass off Celeste's rear. “I'll walk you to your errand.” He turned and started heading across the golf course.

Celeste's hands went cold. She bounded after him. “Ah, Travis, wait,” she said, panting a little as she tried to keep up. “That's okay. You don't have to walk me. You should definitely get back. Dave'll find you slacking off otherwise!” She tried to sound as casual as possible.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She whipped it out and shot a glance at the screen. Nick. She pressed mute and dropped it back in her pocket. They were almost back at the main building now. Celeste could see the swimmers in the pool, their bathing suits bright splashes of color against the turquoise water.
Buzz-buzz
. Her phone again. Travis glanced at her.

“Why don't you answer that?” he asked.

“Oh, um, it's probably a telemarketer or something,” Celeste fumbled. Travis wrinkled his forehead.

“On a cell phone?”

Buzz-buzz. Damn it, Nick!
She flipped open the phone.

“Hey, baby,” Nick's voice said on the other end.
Baby?!

Celeste glanced at Travis. “Oh, hello, Mr. Juarez,” she said loudly.

“Who's Mr. Juarez?” Nick asked. “Are you bringing over the stuff I ordered?”

Celeste gritted her teeth. “Of course, sir,” she said into the phone. “I'd be glad to recommend a few restaurants for your anniversary.”

“Huh?” Nick said. “Are you whacked?”

“Certainly, sir,” Celeste warbled. “I'll have them for you by the end of the day.” She clicked her phone closed and mopped at the sweat trickling down her forehead. Travis stopped. They were next to the grounds shed.

“Okay, so see you later?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her.

“Definitely,” Celeste replied. She darted a quick glance around for any parental-figure types and then planted a lingering kiss on his mouth. Dave appeared at the screen door of the shed.

“Trav!” He waved. “I need you to get on that weed-whacker, stat. All the edging on the main paths.”

Travis nodded dutifully. He gave Celeste a squeeze and headed inside, letting the door bang shut behind him.

Whew!
Celeste took a deep breath as she hurried to the pool for water and towels. That could have gotten very ugly. She threw a few towels and a glass of water onto a tray (forget the toast, she wasn't going to start making his breakfast) and hustled down the path to the Saunders villa, the Perrier slopping out of the glass with every step. She skirted the main building and headed through the palm grove. She was just rounding the bend when she spotted a tall, white-shirted figure puttering along the path, weed-whacker in hand.

Travis! His name flashed in Celeste's mind in big red letters. The figure ahead of her stopped to examine his machine and Celeste saw her chance. Still balancing the tray of towels and water, she jumped behind an azalea bush at the side of the path and crouched down. She peered through the skinny leaves in front of her. The dirt behind the bush smelled sour, and a mosquito buzzed up to investigate. Celeste swatted at her ear. A woman's heels clicked down the path and Celeste glimpsed a pair of gold sandals going by. Not Travis, obviously. Where was he? Communing with his weed-whacker?

Her right foot was going to sleep. Gingerly, Celeste tried to shift her cramped position. The mosquito bit her viciously on the lower back where her shirt had ridden
up. She reached around to smack it but fell backwards onto the tray instead. “Shit!” Celeste whispered. The glass had tipped over, soaking the towels, which were now scattered with mulch. Not the most appealing setup, but then again, not the biggest of her worries right now.

Just then, to her immense relief, Celeste heard the weed-whacker start up out on the path. The noise grew closer and after a minute she could see Travis's size-fourteen New Balances coming slowly down the path as he guided the weed-whacker along the grass at the edge. The machine noise grew almost deafening, and Celeste wrinkled her face as Travis carefully guided the weed-whacker right along the grass by her azalea bush. She held her breath, despite the grass blades now spraying her face, and let it out only when he had moved on and the machine noise had faded to a safe distance. She rested her forehead on her knees. This kind of stress surely wasn't good for her complexion.

Celeste extracted herself and her disgusting tray from the bushes, trying not to fall over on her tingling right foot. She took a deep breath and balanced the tray on a pillar for a minute while she tried to smooth her now-wild braids with the palms of her hands. Whatever. Maybe Nick would lay off once he saw her looking like such a crazy lady.

As she walked up the path to the Saunderses' front
door, she noted that the black Mercedes was gone from the driveway.
Just deliver the empty water and the soaked towels and get out of here
, she told herself.
Thirty seconds. No more.
She knocked carefully. There was no answer, but the door was ajar, so she cautiously pushed it open. “Hello?” she called, just in case Nick's parents were there. “It's—”

“Back here!” Nick's voice came from the back deck. Celeste made her way through the cool, airy rooms to the back. The guesthouse the Saunderses were in was the only one that came with its own private pool made totally of desert sandstone. One of the Pinyon bathrobes was thrown over a beach chair pushed askew on the deck. Celeste could see Nick's figure bobbing in the turquoise water.

“Hey!” he greeted her enthusiastically. He swam to the side of the pool and rested his tanned arms on the edges.

“Hi,” Celeste said warily, as she set the tray down on a side table. “Here's your stuff.”

“Thanks,” Nick said, not even glancing at the tray. He stared up at her. His straight blond hair was plastered to his forehead and he wore a pair of baggy navy swimming trunks. In one clean motion, he hoisted himself out of the pool, the wiry muscles in his arms flexing, and stood in front of Celeste, dripping and panting. She couldn't help notice that even though he was skinny, his abs and chest muscles were clearly defined and his shoulders
were broad and strong looking. Celeste realized she was staring and looked away.

“Well, I'm really busy,” she said, turning away, “so have a good swim and—”

“Wait!” Nick said. Celeste turned back.

“What?”

“Don't you want to go for a swim? My parents are gone all day and we could order lunch….”

Celeste had to consciously restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “Nick,” she said, as if talking to a kindergartener, “I'm
working
right now. That's like a job, you know? Actually, maybe you don't know.” It came out a little harsher than she intended and a faint frown crossed his face. “And shockingly,” she said, softening her tone, “I didn't think to bring a bathing suit.”

Nick smiled devilishly. His perfect teeth flashed in the sun and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners. He stepped a little closer and Celeste caught a whiff of deodorant and warm skin. She felt her skin prickle at his nearness and inhaled sharply. “So what?” he said, grinning. “We don't need suits….”

Celeste jerked her head back and suddenly realized how close they'd been standing. She stepped backwards, fast.

Nick laughed. “Or we could just play Scrabble,” he said, collapsing gracefully onto a lounge chair. “Strip Scrabble.”

Celeste gave him her dirtiest look and spun on her heel, marching through the empty guesthouse without looking back. She knew that if she did she'd see Nick staring after her with his nuclear-powered grin. “Nuclear” was also a good description for what Travis's reaction would have been to that little conversation.

Celeste stalked down the path, barely managing to fire a pleasant Pinyon-employee smile at an old lady tottering by with a walker. She blew air out of her nose like an elephant, trying to calm her pounding heart.

As her heart rate slowed, she felt her phone vibrate. Damn it! He just never quit! Forget Dad's warning. This was too much. Celeste grabbed the phone out of her pocket and flipped it open so hard she almost broke it off its hinges.

“No!” she shouted. “No, I am not bringing over more towels! Or swimming with you. Or skinny-dipping. Not now or ever!”

There was a moment's silence on the other end.

“Okay,” a voice said dubiously. “But are you sure about the skinny-dipping?”

Celeste stopped walking. “Oh my God. Devon?”

“Yeah,” Devon said. “Now will you go skinny-dipping with me?”

Celeste's knees felt weak and wobbly. “I've just had the worst half hour you can ever imagine,” she said, now walking very slowly, like an old, old lady.

“Well, it's about to get a little worse. You have to get over here ASAP. Travis is out back asleep and your dad was just in the office, asking where he was. He's gone to look for him.”

“Damn it! Distract him, do something!” The only thing worse than having Travis and Nick in the same place all summer would be not having Travis around at all. And while “sleeping on the job” wasn't specifically on her father's list of fireable offenses, Celeste was pretty sure it went without saying.

“I can't, he just left.”

“I'll be right there.” Celeste clicked her phone shut and broke into a run.