He squatted, putting himself at eye level with Noah. “Good, because I need your help cleaning up the beach and dock. What do you say?”
Noah looked suspicious, but then he glanced at the boat. A smile spread across his fair face, blond hair sticking up at odd angles. Noah loved the boats as much as Hunt, and Hunt used them to turn the end-of-day loneliness into a game for taking Noah’s mind off things.
The little boy nodded, and they made their way to the dock right as Hunt’s cell phone vibrated in his jeans pocket.
He glanced at the screen.
Chris:We’re going out tonight. Just met the hottest chicks, and they’re ready to party. Meet me at the entrance in fifteen.
Hunt pocketed his phone and put his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “You know where the rags are? Grab one so you can help me wipe down the side of the boat.” He really didn’t need help polishing the boat, as he’d done it earlier, but it was one of Noah’s favorite jobs. “Remember to keep your feet on the dock. No leaning over. I’m not up for fishing for Noahs tonight—water’s cold.”
Noah giggled and ran to the bucket of rags, set aside especially for this purpose. He picked up one and scrunched his nose. He tossed it then grabbed another and ran toward the boat.
Hunt shook his head. His “assistant” was becoming as particular as Hunt when it came to babying the boats—and it looked like Hunt needed to do a better job of getting the polishing cloths washed.
Hunt was in charge of beach and boating activities for Club Tahoe. Out of the four brothers who worked at the club, Hunt had the best job by far. Levi filled the role of CEO, and Hunt would rather be kicked in the teeth than deal with the stressful shit Levi put up with.
Hunt’s middle brother Bran ran the restaurants. Again, fuck that job. Bran dealt with idiot servers calling in sick minutes before their shifts, and hangry (hungry and angry) customers. Then there was Wes, who ran the golf clubhouse and course. Wes and Hunt often collaborated on kid events now that the club had created a kids’ golf program. Wes’s job might be stressful from time to time, but he was a pro golfer. Somehow Hunt didn’t think Wes suffered too much being in charge of the links.
Hunt had also taken on the role of helping plan kid events for the Club Kids program, because that shit was fun. Playing with kids, when he wasn’t running boat tours for tourists and resort guests, kept the day moving along nicely.
Noah sank to his knees next to the old woody, the boat Hunt’s father had purchased two decades ago as a throwback to Lake Tahoe’s early days. Club Tahoe owned other boats, but the woody was everyone’s favorite.
“That’s it,” Hunt said. “Rub the side to a nice shine.”
Hunt put away the bucket of rags and cleared a few things off the dock. He glanced across the beach. All the kids had gone home, and still no one had shown up for Noah.
Hunt motioned for one of the attendants near the Club Kids playroom.
Brin waved back, setting her clipboard aside. She walked quickly across the sand toward the dock.
“Good job, Noah,” Hunt said. “Go ahead and toss the rag in the helm. We’re all good here.”
Hunt lifted the little boy onto the boat and Noah ran to the front. He threw the rag, and it landed on the steering wheel. Hunt had been teaching Noah boat vernacular, so he was damn proud the kid had gone in the right direction. They’d work out the specifics of orderliness later.
Hunt grabbed Noah and swung him back onto the dock. “Here’s Brin.”
The part-time college student/Club Kids worker stepped onto the dock, a bright smile on her face as she peered at Noah.
Everyone was aware of Noah’s flaky family, and they tried as a team to make things easier for him.
“Hey, Noah,” Brin said. “Want to help me feed the animals before you head home? I could really use your help.”
Noah looked up at Hunt.
“Go ahead, buddy. I’ve got an errand to run, but I’ll be back.”
Hunt watched Noah walk away with Brin, and he frowned. If he could smack Noah’s parents upside the head and get them to appreciate their son, he would.
He made his way to the entrance of the resort to catch up with Chris, but his mind was still on Noah and the little boy’s lack of reliable family.
“You got my text?” Chris said.
Hunt smiled at a family entering the club and stepped aside to let them pass. “I got it.”
“You in?”
“Of course I’m in.”
