Page 15
He stepped back and shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, eyeing the remaining sticky notes, wondering what he should tackle first thing in the morning. Tax forms? That sounded way too complicated. Wild Pines email newsletter? Also sounded like hell. Finally bear-proof the dumpster? After numerous attempts with different materials like chains and rope and clamps, he couldn’t nail down something that would work well enough for the residents and keep the bears out. The metal chain was the only secure option for bears, and he was feeling ready to settle on getting up every morning and removing the chain himself. He knew Sandy and Joel were usually up sometime around six, so that would mean getting up before them every morning, which made him want to scream. But at least everyone would be safe.
He sighed, watching out his window as residents returned from their excursions, sunburnt and laughing as they docked their boats. Archer snatched his flat brim and placed it backward on his head, then exited his cabin, deciding for the first time to call it a day before the sun went down.
He made it down to the docks as Jorge Cortez pulled his boat in. Ashley and Michaela jumped out, tossing their life jackets back in.
“Oh, come on,” Jorge exclaimed. He stood and watched his girls jog toward the lawn where the Bramble twins and the Jansen siblings waited for them. “Girls, girls!”
Archer reached Jorge’s boat, biting his cheek as the man grumbled curses under his breath. He began emptying things out that were looking damp: his soft cooler bag. Sweatshirts. Fishing poles. Ropes. Goggles. A first aid kit. He lifted the life jackets, now dripping wet, and cursed again.
“Need a hand?” Archer asked.
Jorge tossed the jackets onto the dock and looked up at Archer. “Hey man, yeah, no. I’m okay.”
He eyed Jorge’s boat, which definitely did not look okay. The bottom of it was covered in a layer of water, and his sneakers were soaked through.
“Got a leak?” Archer asked.
He sighed and stepped out of his boat. “I think so. And who knows when—or if—I’ll be able to get it fixed with everything going on.”
He frowned, then pointed to the remote dangling above the canopy. “Lift it up all the way, let’s take a look underneath.”
Jorge didn’t object as he reached for the remote and pressed the lift arrow until the boat was completely out of the water. The two of them ducked down and inspected the boat. Archer found it instantly; a small crack along the hull.
“There,” he said. “No need to take it in, that’s an easy patch job.”
“Man, you don’t have to do that,” he said. “You’ve already got enough on your plate. I can—”
“Seriously, Jorge, it’s fine. I can get this done in less than an hour.”
“All right, well, not now, yeah? You seem like you’re done for the day.”
Archer hummed. “I guess. Not sure what to do with myself though.”
“A Pisco sour, perhaps?”
He perked up. Archer hadn’t shaken up a cocktail since arriving at Wild Pines in May, and he was itching to mix something. “You have stuff to make Pisco sours?”
“I’m Chilean, is that even a question?”
“Real lime juice, right?”
“You offend me.”
He laughed. “Fair, I’m sorry. That sounds great.”
Archer helped Jorge grab his soggy items off the dock, then the two of them made their way to Cabin G, where the two slung them over the patio to dry in the sun.
Jorge looked over at the group of teenagers. Ashley and Chris were sitting at a picnic table, heads turned to one another, cheeks flushed as they spoke. Chris’s hand was on the bench, close enough to brush against Ashley’s leg.
He cursed. “I don’t know about that boy.”
Archer couldn’t help his smile. “At least it’s Chris and not Danny.”
Jorge frowned. “That should make me feel better?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Chris seems like more of the innocent type, and he’s incapable of lying unlike his brother. Good kid.”
Jorge lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
