"I guess I need to walk baby back to our cabin," I teased.
"Dam... dang straight," she said, fixing her slip.
"That was a close one," Rick teased, making a production of looking for Louise.
"After a story like that, I should get brownie points for my effort," she muttered, dragging me toward our cabin.
I laughed, feeling lighthearted. Camp Unlikely Allies was definitely growing on me.
***
When Rick found me, I was prepping the art room for the campers' arrival the following day.
"Hey," he said, standing in the doorway, taking in the long skirt I was wearing, despite the cooler morning temperatures. Practical or not, I still had my own style, what could I say? At least I was wearing some leggings and one of the soft long sleeved flannel shirts I was beginning to tolerate. They didn't match my skirt, but I felt much more comfortable.
"Hey yourself," I teased, feeling more at ease with him than I had just three days ago. I gathered my hair into a bun at the nap of my neck, using a pencil to hold it in place. It was easier to work with my hair out of my face while I moved supplies around.
"I need to make a run down the mountain to get some last-minute supplies and thought you might like to go with me," he said, leaning against the door jam.
"Sure," I said, jumping at the chance for a little alone time with him. "Will I be gone long? I just need to know what to tell Amy."
"We'll be gone most the day. It's a shorter trip than coming from the airport, but it'll still take us about three hours to get there."
"Okay, I'll go tell Amy," I said, heading out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, I met Rick outside by his Ford Expedition.
"Ready?" he asked as we climbed into the vehicle.
"Definitely," I said, ready to see a little civilization. I missed my normal haunts back home.
"Missing the city life?" he teased, pulling down the dirt drive.
"A little, but not as much as I originally thought I would," I said, remembering how I felt when I first arrived.
He arched his eyebrows at me. "Really?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say mountain life is growing on me," I said, watching the passing landscape out the window. I missed most of it the first time because I had slept the majority of the trip up the mountain. I could see why too, the sharp twisty turns and the way my ears kept popping had an almost hypnotizing effect. We had our share of mountains in California, but I pretty much avoided them.
The silence between us lingered on, but didn't feel stilted or awkward.
Finally, after we had been driving for more than an hour, I broke the silence. "It really is pretty here."
"I think so," he answered, almost appreciatively.
"You know, California has some pretty spectacular mountains too. Have you spent much time there?" he asked.
I snorted. "No, Mom and I don't do the outdoors."
"That's a shame," he chuckled.
"I wish we had though," I said after several more minutes of silence. "It's actually kind of inspiring. I'd love to put it on paper."
"What's your normal muse?" he asked.
"Anything really, I guess. Anything I can sketch or paint."
"I've always envied artistic types. I'm strictly a stick figure man."
"Ha, just because you can't sketch doesn't mean you're not an artist. What you do at the camp takes a special touch. You're molding and changing lives and that means something," I said in rush.
"Thanks," he said gruffly, obviously touched at my words.
Our conversation took a more lighthearted turn from then on. I busted a gut when I found out he was a CW nut like me as we compared our favorite shows and characters.
"Don't get me wrong, the books are better, but I think the producers are doing a good job keeping the show interesting," he said as I teased him about liking Vampire Diaries.
"I think it's hilarious you read young adult books," I squeaked, holding back a laugh.
"What? They're great books," he defended himself.
"Hey, I'm not judging you. I just don't think I've ever met a guy who reads the same kind of books I read."
"Well, I didn't start off that way, but I got sucked in by Harry Potter when Mason was twelve, and I guess I've been reading similar stuff ever since. I try to stay away from the mushy romance or sparkly vampire ones though," he said, grinning sheepishly.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little sparkle," I said, defending my favorite books.
"I knew you were a Team Edward kind of girl."
"What!" I teased. "Twilight too?"
"Come on, is there a human being on the planet who doesn't know about Team Edward versus Team Jacob," he said laughing. "Anyway, I only know about them from the female population at the camp for the last three summers."
"Yeah, right," I said. My side was splitting from laughing so hard.
The rest of the drive passed quickly as we compared book titles. I was amazed at the amount of books he had read and took notes on some of his favorites. I made a mental note to allow more time for reading in the future. I enjoyed reading, but it had always taken a backseat to my art.
Rick pulled into the first gas station we ran across when we hit the foothills and I got out to stretch my legs. I was awestruck at the vastness of the mountains we had just left and wished I had the foresight to bring my sketchpad.
"Pretty amazing, right?" he asked, joining me.
"Most definitely. I wish I'd brought my sketchpad," I said wistfully.
"I'm sure we can get you one in there," he said, pointing to the large store hooked to the gas station.
"You think so?" I asked, doubtfully.
"Trust me, this store carries everything but the kitchen sink. We can grab some grub at the restaurant, and you can look out the window and sketch to your heart's content."
"You don't mind?" I asked, bouncing slightly in excitement.
He laughed at my enthusiasm. "Not at all. I need to catch up on some emails," he said, holding up his laptop. "Not having Internet at Camp UA makes it a little tough at times. I'm going to hit the bathroom while you look for a sketchpad. Do you mind holding this?" he asked, holding out his laptop.
"Sure."
A few minutes later, I met him outside the archway that connected the restaurant to the store.
"I found one," I said, holding up the pad gleefully. "And guess what else I found out? They do sell kitchen sinks," I teased.
"No shit?" he asked.
"Kidding," I said giggling as the hostess approached us.
"Two, Mary," he said.
"How's it going, Rick? We've missed seeing you around lately. You can always tell when it's summer time around here. It gets a lot quieter without our loudmouth boys," she said, shooting me a wink. "Speaking of which, what've you done with my boy?"
"Mason's up at the camp doing some last-minute stuff before the rowdy bunch arrives tomorrow."
"I see. I guess I understand that excuse, but you tell him I'm expecting a visit as soon as summer's over. So, who might this lovely lady be?" she asked, setting our menus down at a table next to a huge picturesque window with a breathtaking view of the mountains.
"This is my daughter," Rick said, throwing his arm across my shoulders.
"Ahh, so you decided to take my advice and adopt another one of them young'uns," she said, clucking happily as she set our napkin-wrapped silverware on the table.
I stiffened under Rick's arm. This was going to be everyone's assumption, and for some reason, it struck a sour chord in me. I was robbed of the opportunity of knowing him when I was younger, and it seemed unfair that it would trickle into adulthood, even after I found him.