twenty-one
Autumn
Iwasnotfreakingout.
And my hands weren’t shaking. Neither were my thighs after an amazing night with my ex-boyfriend. That would be crazy, right?
Last night had been full of surprises. It was as if we’d picked up where we left off, but with maturity and much, much more skill than before. The things he could do with his tongue. The things he could do with his… Never mind.
I hadn’t expected to jump him the way I did. But seeing his face, knowing what he’d just done for my best friend, it meant something to me. What mattered was that Jamie was acting in the self-interests of others and not just to gain favor with me but because it was the right thing to do. That felt different this time around.
He chose to alert my best friend despite the argument we’d had on my front porch step, and it filled me with this fire I just couldn’t tamp down. Maybe he had changed. Maybe itdidn’t matter since this was going nowhere anyway. Maybe I’d overreacted when he tried to kiss me. He sure didn’t seem to mind when I mauled him immediately after talking with Jack around the campfire.
The first time we slept together had been in the back of his car. It sounded cliché, but back then, we’d been leading up to it for months, and we’d both known it was on the table. He’d brought pillows and blankets. Made it comfy. Had a new air freshener. I still thought of him whenever I smelled artificial vanilla.
“Um… Autumn?”
“What? Yeah?” I set down a bundle of paintbrushes in the craft shed and looked up to see the confused face of my fellow counselor. Apparently, I’d zoned out one too many times, and people were starting to notice.
Felicia looked at me as if I were sick or something. “I asked you if you could take over for my afternoon pottery class.”
I pasted on a smile and tapped my chin with my finger. “Can’t. I have ax throwing.”
“On Tuesday? Since when?”
Shit. It was Tuesday. Yesterday was the day I’d decided to have casual sex with my high school ex. Yesterday, I knew he had changed, but it didn’t mean anything had really changed between us. Yesterday, I decided to have a camp fling. That was all it was. If the gossip mill was correct (and it usually was), then camp flings were completely normal. No cause for alarm. But being brought breakfast in bed and waking up to his smiling face after the night we’d had was a different story. Feeling way too much for the man who’d broken up with me without so much as a goodbye was something to freak out about later. Now was the time to focus on what was important: this camp, my friends. Not gorgeous exes.
“I have a meeting in twenty minutes, but I think I’ll be free in time,” I responded. I’d already asked Sawyer to cover mymorning class so I could meet with Joy and Marty, the owners of Foxglove Stables next door.
“Lifesaver,” Felicia exclaimed. The light in her eyes was far too bright, as if I’d just agreed to give her a kidney.
“I prefer Skittles.” I smiled at her for half a second, proud of my dad joke. I could have my meeting and then a two-hour break before Felicia’s pottery class.
“Tonight, we’re making weed ashtray pinch pots. Get it? A pot… For your pot.” Whoa, pottery had changed since I’d led it. “The example is on the craft cabin desk.”
I was wrapped up in an almost too-tight hug. Felicia always thanked me way more than necessary.
“Don’t worry about the calendar. I’ll update it. Go.”
Loud laughter burst from outside, and I turned just in time to see Emerson to gracefully lob a water balloon at Jamie. I couldn’t look away as the balloon moved in slow motion through the air. His hands were outstretched, but his efforts were futile. The balloon burst all over his chest, inciting another round of laughter from him and his podmates. He looked so good in the outdoors with the sun on his face and a wide, uninhibited smile. I cupped my hands over my mouth and hollered a whooping yell their way. Emerson, Lamar, and Ren waved back before Jamie turned around and saw me.
His shirt was marvelously plastered to his chest, and now that I knew exactly what was under that shirt, how he’d flexed and moved under my hands, I couldn’t look away. My body itched to run up and peel the wet material off him. Hand up high, he waved at me and called for me to join them right as Lamar pelted another one at his ass, and he shrieked. Jamie’s happiness was a reminder that he belonged here, just like all the other adults with too many restrictions and not enough fun in their lives. He’d finally found a spot to connect to that side of himself.
I waved him off, shaking with laughter, and left to make my way toward Foxglove Stables.
Astonepathlinedthe walkway to an adorable log cabin, what I’d been told was the home/office of Marty and Joy. I’d set up a meeting last week and was excited to finally visit the property that bordered ours. I’d never been here before, but I knew the couple in passing, because it was hard to live in a town as small as Wildwood and not know who people were.
Their camp was everything I expected it to be. To the right of the walkway was a demonstration on an American Paint Horse showing animal maintenance. Small children huddled around as a well-tempered animal’s mane was brushed out, the kids’ eyes rapt with attention.
The stables branched out over vast acres of pasture, woods, horse trails, and their own creek. Their website showed kids and teens coming for the day to ride horses and learn what life on a ranch was like. From trail riding to running obstacle courses and playing ball with furry friends, it looked like a place I would have loved to go as a child.
Joy met me on the porch with a buzzing sort of excitement. “Hey, Marty, it looks like summer’s over because here comes Autumn!”
I laughed at the cheesy joke, enjoying the welcoming tone to start this meeting. It relieved some of the nerves I had about this pitch.
Joy welcomed me into her house. The door opened to a plant lover’s dream, a warm space decorated with spider plants andpothos displayed proudly from ceilings in macrame pot holders much like the ones we did at camp.
Joy took me back to a whimsical kitchen painted in soft yellow and offered me a beverage. I asked for coffee because I noticed it was Beans and Beans’s French roast—my favorite.
