Flirting with Boys (5 page)

C
eleste flew down the path to the main building, almost knocking over two of the sous-chefs wheeling a towering pink-frosted cake toward one of the guesthouses.

“Hey, Celeste!” one of them called after her, but she didn't turn around.

What was he thinking?
she wondered as her deck shoes pounded the red sandstone. Now Travis would be fired and go back to the beach and she'd see him twice all summer! Or Travis would be fired and her dad would sue him for the golf cart money and he wouldn't be able to pay it, so he'd have to go to jail instead of Arizona, and she'd still never see him. Or…

Celeste skidded around the corner of the kitchen off the main building. Travis lay peacefully under the big
tree, his arms stretched over his head and the cool green light from the leaves flickering over his face.

“Travis!” Celeste hissed as loud as she could. “Wake up!”

He opened his eyes slowly and smiled dreamily. “Celeste,” he mumbled. “You're here. I was having a dream…. You were there. You were wearing this red silky thing…and cowboy boots.” He propped himself on his elbows. From behind her, Celeste heard the kitchen door bang.

“Get up, get up, get up!” she whispered frantically, tugging at Travis's hand. “My dad!”

His eyes snapped open like window shades and he scrambled to his feet. “Your dad?” he said, whipping his head around. “Where?”

“Here, now!” Celeste thrust the discarded weed-whacker into his hand and pressed the start button just as she heard her father's voice from behind her.

“Travis, I was just looking for you.”

Celeste turned around. Travis was industriously whacking the grass around her feet. He straightened up, wiping his forehead as if he'd spent the last half hour trimming every blade of grass at Pinyon.

“Hi, Dad,” Celeste said, wondering how her voice could sound so calm when her heart was still throwing itself wildly against the inside of her rib cage, like some sort of crazed hamster.

“Hey, Mr. Tippen,” Travis said, breathing heavily.

“Hello, Travis,” Celeste's father answered, eyeing Travis's grass-stained work boots and tucked-in polo shirt. He gave a tiny nod of approval that only Celeste caught. She smiled to herself.

“I wanted to give you this.” Mr. Tippen extended a piece of paper. “I had Jeannette draw up a record of how many hours you've logged so far toward your debt.”

“Cool. Thanks, Mr. Tippen.” Travis folded up the paper into a tiny square and stuck it in his pocket. Dad frowned faintly.

“Are you going back to the office, Dad?” Celeste asked. He glanced down at the stack of papers in his hand.

“Yes, I just came out to see how you were doing. I have a meeting with Solomon about the menu for the month—we're switching over some of the entrees. Fresh fish has gone up exorbitantly at the market.”

“I'll walk with you,” she offered. She waved to Travis and started heading down the path with her father.

As they strolled, Celeste cast a sideways glance at her father from under her eyelashes. “So, Travis hasn't worked off the golf cart yet?” she asked after a minute.

Her father snorted. “He's got a ways to go on that one. If I were making him pay us in money instead of labor, it would take a lot longer than three months for
him to earn enough.” Then his tone softened as he put his arm around his daughter. “I have to admit, though, he's been a good worker. Dave says he's really taken to mowing, even in this heat.” Her father glanced at her. “Maybe I've been a little hard about him in the past.”

Celeste laughed. “A
little
? Maybe if you're Genghis Khan. He really is a good guy, Daddy. I've been trying to tell you that all year.”

Her father smiled and kissed her on the top of her head. “Well, we'll see. The summer's not over yet.” He swung the glass door to the main building open and disappeared inside. Celeste watched him go, and when the door had swung safely shut, she doubled back to the big tree. Travis was attacking the tall grass by the kitchen door with his back to her. She crept up behind him and smacked his butt.

“Hey!” He whirled around.

“Don't turn the weed-whacker off,” she said quickly. “Dad's still inside. But do you want to go for a swim tonight?” she asked. The engine noise and the odor from the kitchen Dumpster were making it hard to be seductive, but she was doing her best.

A grin split Travis's face. “Do you even need to ask?”

“Okay. Meet me at midnight at the pool gate. It'll be totally empty at that hour.”

Just then Celeste's phone buzzed again. She glanced at it. Nick.

Playfully, Travis craned his head. “Who's calling, your boyfriend?” he teased. Thank God he couldn't see the screen.

“Oh yeah, right!” Celeste said quickly. She forced an idiotic little giggle. Travis gave her a strange look but leaned down and kissed her quickly.

“See you tonight.”

 

Celeste felt good when she showed up at the pool gate that night, wearing her new H&M bikini under a loose cotton beach dress. She deserved a little fun after her day of insanity. But she could see Travis was in a rotten mood the minute he walked up. He grunted in response to her greeting, without kissing her, and then when went straight to the pool and dove in. Celeste followed. The icy blue water felt fantastic against her dusty, hot skin.

She paddled over to the side, where Travis was resting his arms on the pool edge and gazing moodily out at the road, a sliver of which was just visible beyond the main gate. Celeste swam up behind him and softly ran her hand over the hard muscles in his back and shoulders. “What's wrong?” she asked.

He shook off her hand. “Nothing—I'm fine.” Almost angrily, he stroked to the other side of the pool. Celeste swam back and forth a little and then paddled over to
the steps. She climbed up on the first one and sat down, looping her arms over her knees.

Travis turned around. “Look, it's just that Kevin told me today that the surf instructors at the beach are all hosting Derek Rodham next week.”

Celeste must have looked blank because he burst out, “He's like the biggest surfer on the West Coast! They get to surf with him and take a class. And I'm missing it because I'm stuck here in the desert!” He struck the water with his fist.

“That sucks. I'm sorry,” Celeste said softly. To herself, she thought that Travis should just man up. It was his stupid prank that had gotten him here anyway. And besides, wasn't he glad that
she
was here? “Anyway,” she said, pushing off the step and swimming over to him, “let's forget about that. Give me a ride!” She jumped on his back.

At first, he didn't move. Then he grabbed her arms, held them around his neck, and dove under the water. He swam the entire length of the pool and then, just when Celeste thought she was going to choke, he surfaced. Spluttering, she gasped a lungful of air. “That was so long!” she said, flipping around so she could face him.

He smiled grudgingly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, while he backed up against the pool wall. “Don't think about any of that stuff
right now,” she said softly, touching his cool lips with her mouth. He closed his eyes and nodded, running his hands up her wet arms. He slid them down her back and she pressed herself more tightly against him. His mouth pressed more firmly on hers and she shivered as the warm night breeze played over her shoulders.

“You're right,” he said, drawing back after a long moment. “You're here, I'm here. I don't care about anything else.” His breath tickled her cheek.

“That's right,” Celeste whispered. “Nothing else matters.”

C
eleste sat at one of the desks in the main office a few days later, trying to figure out how many flower arrangements she needed to order for the wedding shower Mrs. Anderson was hosting for Taylor Hargrove, the daughter of one of the biggest restaurant entrepreneurs in L.A. Celeste stared down at the diagram of the Silver Room spread out in front of her and erased the little table sketch she'd just drawn. She took a swig of her caramel latte and glanced at her watch. Travis was supposed to come by once he was done mowing down by the main gates. Celeste erased another table and blew the dust off the desk, wondering idly how Travis could stand sitting on that smelly mower all day in the hot sun.

At least the office was quiet and cool. Her mom and dad were in town, meeting with their accountants. Even the secretaries were gone. The computer system had gone down this morning, so Dad had given everyone a few hours off until the guy from IBM came.

As Celeste bent close to the sketch and carefully drew in another table by the wall, the door clicked open behind her. She smiled to herself and pretended to concentrate. Footsteps crept across the carpet behind her and stopped. Celeste could sense someone standing right behind her chair. A pad of paper landed on the desk next to her. Celeste dropped her pencil and, without looking around, stretched her arms up and back, grabbing the person around the waist. “Hey, baby,” she said.

“Wow, this is a nice change,” a voice said. Celeste suddenly realized that the person she was grabbing was much skinnier than Travis, and the voice wasn't as gravelly. She jumped and her knee jarred the desk, spilling her cardboard cup of coffee—all over Mrs. Anderson's seating plan. “Damn it!” she yelled, and leaped up.

“Oops! Sorry,” Nick said.

“What the hell are you doing? Quick, get something to wipe this off.” Celeste held up the thin white sheet of drafting paper on which the brown coffee stains were rapidly soaking in. Little drips of coffee ran off the sheet onto the desk. Nick looked around wildly for some
paper towels or napkins, but there wasn't anything in reach. Suddenly, he held up a hand. “I got it,” he said. With one quick movement, he pulled his T-shirt off over his head, revealing his golden-tanned torso, and laid the drafting paper down on another desk, pressing the shirt against it at the same time. The coffee soaked rapidly into the soft cotton, spreading through the fabric and lifting off the paper. Celeste stared. Nick Saunders standing half naked in the Pinyon office cleaning up a spill had to be the very last thing she'd expected to see today. She realized her mouth was hanging open a little and shut it quickly.

After a minute, Nick held up the paper. “There,” he said, surveying it critically. “That looks a little better.” It was brown and wrinkly in spots, but all of the writing was legible.

There was a little silence. Nick grinned at Celeste as if he was waiting for her to say something. She looked down at the stained sketch. “Uh, thanks.” More silence. “I, um, thought you were Travis.”

“No, thank God.” The muscles in his chest flexed as he perched on the edge of the desk. Celeste noticed that he had a smattering of golden freckles across his shoulders. “But you can pretend I'm Travis if it means I get more of that,” he said.

“Don't start, Nick,” she warned.

He widened his eyes innocently. “I just came down
here to get some work done, and now I'm being accused of something I haven't even done? Is this how you treat all your special Pinyon guests?”

Celeste started to respond and then paused. “Wait—what do you mean, get some work done?” She turned and eyed the pad of paper, untouched by spilled coffee. Scribbling in blue ink covered the first page.

Nick plopped down on a leather chair near the desk and propped his feet on the desk. He tipped back in the chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “For my screening party. Remember? The festival is coming up and this is my chance for some really big names to see my film. So I want the event to be the best one of the whole festival.”

Celeste glanced nervously at the door. Why hadn't Travis shown up by now? He was supposed to have been here ten minutes ago. She had a fleeting vision of her boyfriend bursting through the door, dressed up like Arnold Schwarzenegger in
Terminator
, and blasting Nick into a pulp with some giant futuristic rocket-launcher.

“Look, Nick, I'm sure your party is going to rock,” she said. “But honestly, I'm not helping you. That's Devon's job. She's the guest relations rep. Sorry.” She sat down at the desk and picked up a pencil, hoping he'd get the hint and leave.

Wishful thinking. Nick looked down at the scribbles
on his paper and played with a stapler for a minute. “Who's Devon?”

“The. Guest. Relations. Rep,” Celeste said slowly, her patience waning. “And also my best friend. Trust me, she's awesome. And has plenty of party experience to draw from.”

“I don't know.” Nick looked up and dropped his feet to the floor. He leaned forward a little. “I was really looking forward to working with you.” His voice dropped silkily.

Celeste grabbed her phone. This had to stop. “How about I call Devon right now? So you guys can get started?” Rapidly, she texted Devon. Luckily, Nick couldn't see the message, which read:
HELP, MASSIVE FLIRT WANTS ME TO PLAN HIS PARTY, NEED YOU STAT
. She pressed send and gave Nick a big smile, showing all of her teeth. “There. She should be here any minute.”

The phone beeped and Celeste peered down at Devon's return message.
SUPER-DEVON ON THE WAY. BTW MESSAGE FROM TRAVIS. BROKE A BELT ON THE MOWER, CAN'T COME OVER
. Celeste exhaled. At least she didn't have to worry about a
Terminator
scene. She looked up at Nick. He was staring at her. Celeste looked away fast and then slid her eyes back. Still staring. Finally, she couldn't help herself.

“Why are you staring at me, Nick?” she snapped.

Nick shrugged and tapped a pen on the desk. There
was a little pause. The thought occurred to Celeste that she'd never actually been alone, like totally alone, with Nick for more than a few minutes. Well, except for those ill-advised hookup sessions last summer. The silence stretched out until it filled the room. Celeste wondered if he could hear her stomach rumbling and put her hand over her belly.

Then Nick put down the pen and leaned forward a little. “So, Celeste, what's your story?”

“What?” Celeste blinked rapidly.

“I mean, you and I have known each other for like five years or something, right?”

Celeste considered this. “Yeah, that's about right.”

“Well, I can't figure out why you're still stuck here, working every summer. Did you commit some sort of crime at birth or something?”

Celeste bristled until she saw the playful crinkles around Nick's eyes. “Wait, what
am
I doing here?” she asked, going wide-eyed. “Oh my God! Rescue me, Nick Saunders!”

Nick laughed. “Funny. I never noticed that about you before. But seriously—why
do
they make you work here every summer?”

Celeste looked down at the now-dry seating plan. “It's not that I'm chained to the resort or something. It's just that…” She paused. “Well, my dad's really into the idea of the family working together—like really into it. I
mean, this resort is my parents' entire life. I think if I told them I'd rather not work, they'd be really upset.”

“So, you're destined to be towel-folder and drink-fetcher until college?” Nick smirked.

She shrugged. “I guess so. There was this program….” She stopped. She wasn't about to tell Nick the Rich and Arrogant about her dream writing program just because he had managed to talk to her for twenty seconds without flirting. She looked down at the desk and made a little, insignificant mark on the seating chart.

“What program?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Just then, the office door swung open and Devon walked in.

Celeste jumped up in relief. “Hey, Dev. Thanks for coming over.”

Devon smiled. “No problem.” She held her hand out to Nick. “I'm Devon Wright, the guest relations rep. I'm going to help you plan your party.”

Nick took Devon's hand in his as though it were a precious offering. Now
his
mouth was hanging open. Celeste could hardly blame him. Devon was wearing a skin-tight white linen sheath dress, a string of giant blue beads that hung down practically to her waist, and a huge pink hibiscus tucked behind one ear.

As Celeste watched, Devon gave Nick a sexy little smile. “I'm going to make sure this is the best party ever,” she purred.

Nick nodded dumbly, still hanging on to Devon's hand. “Great,” he croaked. “That sounds great.”

Celeste managed to stifle her snorting laughter in the crook of her forearm. Nick barely looked around as she crept from the room. Finally, Celeste felt like she'd found the one thing that could take Nick's mind off her—her best friend.