“Ohhellno,” he said under his breath.
He might have been talking to himself, but she was close enough to catch every word. Humiliation flooded through her, drowning desire more effectively than a bucket of ice water.
Of course she’d been mistaken. She’d projected her own desires onto him, seeing what she wanted to see instead of what was actually there. Just as she’d always done.
Belatedly, Honey realized that there were two other people in the room. One, a handsome red-head inexplicably dressed in a business suit, sat frozen behind a laptop, fingers poised over the keys. His green eyes flicked from her to the man—she couldn’t think of him as anything other thantheman—and back again, with the air of someone watching two snowplows headed for a slow-motion collision. From his expression, he seemed to be engaged in an intense internal debate whether he should shout a warning, or get out his phone and start filming.
The other person in the room bore a startling resemblance totheman, if you removed several decades and about five hundred gallons of raw aggression. He had the same uncompromising nose and dark eyes, though the former was straight and unbroken, and the latter were kind. He too was looking between the two of them, though not with the same faintly horrified fascination. From the compressed line of his mouth, only a supreme act of willpower was keeping him from bursting into laughter.
Honey had seen him before, though only in a glitching, low-res video feed. The badge pinned to his t-shirt confirmed his identity:Zephyr - Camp Director.
She hadn’t just made an open fool of herself. She’d made an open fool of herself in front of her boss.
Well, it couldn’t be changed now. She’d just have to style it out. She pasted her best, brightest smile onto her face, holding out a hand to the man.
“Hi,” she said to—oh God, had Zephyr said his name? If he had, she’d been far too lost in a drunken fog of hormones to recall it now. In desperation, she hooked her smile up so far that her cheeks hurt. “I’m so happy to meet you.”
The man made no move to take her hand. He pressed back against a desk, looking like he was seriously contemplating flipping it over into an impromptu defensive barricade.
Under all her hot embarrassment, Honey couldn’t help feeling a tiny curl of anger. Okay, so she wasn’t some wide-eyed blonde barely old enough to drink, like the man must have been expecting. He could at least be polite enough to hide his dismay.
She knew she should lower her hand and ignore the fact that he’d just blanked her. That was what she’d always done, after all; swallowed her own feelings, smoothed things over. But it had been a strange morning, and she was tired and confused and not at her best.
And damn it, she was just sosickof pretending nothing was wrong.
Face set in a rictus grin, Honey kept holding out her hand, maintaining eye contact with the man. He stared right back at her, with the same sort of attention one might give an unexpected tiger. She didn’t think he’d evenblinkedyet.
“Is there a problem?” Zephyr said mildly.
The glowering man started, as if he’d only just realized their standoff had an audience. He jerked his gaze away from Honey at last, scowl deepening.
“No,” he said, though his expression clearly stated that there was indeed a problem, and it was five foot six and standing in front of him in a howling wolf t-shirt. His voice matched his appearance—deep and gravelly, with a growling edge. “No problem.”
“Glad to hear it.” Zephyr stepped forward to accept Honey’s handshake in the man’s stead. “Please don’t mind Buck. He always looks like that. Just give him a chance. I promise he’s not nearly as intimidating as he seems.”
Zephyr directed this last statement over his shoulder, with a distinctly warning tone. The still-glowering man—Buck, evidently—twitched. He muttered something under his breath, too low for Honey to catch. Whatever it was, she had the distinct impression it had not been agreement.
“I’m sure we’ll make a great team,” Honey said, against all the evidence. “And thank you again for giving me this opportunity. It’s a dream come true.”
Buck obviously did not share this sentiment. He looked like he was praying his alarm would go off at any second, ending this terrible nightmare.
“I know the feeling,” Zephyr said. He dropped his voice, as though sharing a secret. “And don’t worry. It will all work out in the end. It did for me.”
Before Honey could ask what he’d meant by that rather cryptic statement, Zephyr turned to gesture at the red-headed man. “Allow me to introduce you to my business partner, Conleth. He handles the camp’s finances.”
“Along with everything else,” Conleth said. He’d gone back to his laptop, typing one-handed. With a start, Honey realized he had a phone in his other hand, his thumb dancing across the screen without hesitation. “Except the actual children, of course.”
“Conleth,” Buck growled. “Are you texting?”
“Why would I be texting?” Conleth raised the phone, pointing the camera at Buck. “And on a completely unrelated topic, we must capture this historic moment. You know, for the camp yearbook. Smile.”
“Do not,” Buck grated, “press that motherloving button.”
Zephyr stepped between the pair, blocking the threatened photo. He cast Honey a rather weary smile. “Sorry. I promise, we’re usually more professional than this.”
Conleth let out a derisive snort.
“You’ll meet the rest of the senior staff later, during the training sessions,” Zephyr said. “Though I’m afraid you won’t have that much time to get to know everyone. Normally we like to give new staff a week to settle in, but I understand that wasn’t practical in your case, given your work commitments.”
