Wishful Thinking (7 page)

Emmett grinned. “Probably because you’re always off gallivanting with your little boyfriend,” he said with an innocent shrug.

Jaime raised the muffin in her hand as if to throw it across the room, and Emmett pretended to take cover behind the blender.

“Speaking of gallivanting,” Emmett squeaked from his hiding place. “Are we on for the bonfire again tonight? I’ve got the marshmallows all ready for your beloved s’mores.”

Hazel saw Jaime toss Emmett a sharp, warning glare. “Come on, Blondie,” Jaime said as she pulled open the sliding glass door.

Hazel bit the side of her cheek and tried not to look annoyed. Apparently the bonfire was an invitation-only event.

“You ever need a break from her highness, you just come see me,” Emmett said as Hazel passed, and she forced a smile. She had a feeling she’d be taking him up on that offer, and soon.

Jaime was halfway across the stone patio, on the other side of a long, glass table, when Hazel caught up. “Where’s Rosanna?” Hazel asked—she hoped casually—as they passed the empty studio. “When does she do her painting?”

Jaime led them into a clearing in the woods, where the trail of seashells ended and a rambling dirt path began. “Whenever she feels like it,” she muttered, pushing a few spindly branches out of her way. One snapped back and nearly caught Hazel across the face. She ducked quickly and walked hunched over until they were officially out of the woods.

At the end of the path, a hulking red barn asserted itself against the clear blue sky. The oversize front doors were pulled open, revealing two rows of horse stalls and an indoor-outdoor pen, where a dozen sheep and goats were quietly grazing.

“Listen,” Jaime said, and stopped short. “I know Rosanna said you’d be helping her out some in the studio, and believe me, I have no problem with that. But as long as you’re with me, your business is
here.”
Jaime pointed emphatically at the barn. “Got it?”

Hazel swallowed. Had she really traveled back in time just to play farmhand to some grumpy little brat?

But this was what Rosanna had told her to do. For now, she had no choice. And being close to her mother would make it all worthwhile in the end.

“Got it,” she mumbled to Jaime’s back as she followed her into the barn.

The smell of manure and dry hay stung Hazel’s nostrils. The closest she’d ever come to farm animals was the chicken coop at Roy’s sister’s lake house. She had been in charge of feeding them in the mornings and, after an unfortunate incident with a disgruntled laying hen, suffered nightmares of being pecked to pieces for weeks. Now she eyed the cranky-looking goats with suspicion as Jaime took a quick turn and started up a narrow staircase inside.

“Where are you going?” Hazel asked. “I thought our business was in the barn.”

Jaime kept pounding up the rickety steps. “Up here,” she said, opening a small door at the top and stepping inside. “The animals are Maura and Craig’s department. I don’t do livestock, even if it
is
a gentleman’s farm.”

Hazel looked back at the horses in their stalls, their wide eyes dark and unblinking. “A gentleman’s farm?”

“No killing or food production of any kind. It’s all very civilized,” Jaime said, motioning for Hazel to follow her into
a small office at the top of the stairs. “Which doesn’t make it smell any better in here, but you get used to it.”

Hazel glanced around the office. It was a dark room, just big enough for a desk, a chair, and rows of beige-colored filing cabinets. Across the room was a second door and Hazel peered though it, down a long, narrow hallway.

“That’s where the barn crew shacks up in the summer,” Jaime explained. “There’s always room, if you’re interested.”

Hazel’s nose wrinkled and she shook her head, feeling lucky that she’d been assigned to the guesthouse. Even if it did mean more quality time with Jaime.

“Take a seat,” Jaime commanded, standing with her arms crossed in front of the cabinets. Hazel sunk into the tall rolling chair.

Jaime reached forward and tugged out one of the top drawers. Inside, color-coded folders were arranged and labeled alphabetically. “Billy broke the treadmill again,” Jaime said, quickly flipping through the files. “I know the manual is in here somewhere, but I haven’t had a chance to find it.”

Jaime reached both hands into the cabinet and lugged out a fat folder, overflowing with yellowing manuals for what looked like every single electronic device the Scotts had ever purchased. She dropped the folder in Hazel’s lap, sending the chair rolling backward until Hazel was wedged between the desk and the wall.

“Have fun, Blondie,” Jaime cooed as she wiped the dust from her hands and started back down the stairs.

“It’s Hazel,” Hazel shot back, slapping the file onto the desk.

Jaime popped her head back around the corner, dark ringlets bouncing around her forehead. “What was that?”

“My name isn’t Blondie, it’s Hazel,” Hazel repeated. “And I’m sorry you don’t want me here, but Rosanna does. I have no idea what your problem is.”

“Problem? I don’t have a problem,” Jaime said flatly. “And even if I did have a problem—which I don’t—I can’t imagine you’d understand. I heard all about your parents and their little European vacation. Sounds swell.” Jaime’s voice dripped with false sincerity.

Hazel’s pulse raged in her ears and she wanted nothing more than to set the record straight, to snap back with her real story, the one without vacations or parents of any kind.

“You sure it’s too late to join them?” Jaime asked with a dramatic pout.

Hazel’s cheeks were burning and she turned quickly back to the folder on the desk.

“Later, Blondie,” Jaime called as she bounded down the stairs. Through the office’s one, blurry window, Hazel watched as Jaime stalked across the field. The tall, leafy oaks swayed in the breeze and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. In the distance, the ocean looked striped, the sun reflected in mirrored streaks across the surface.

Hazel sighed and opened the folder.

A beautiful day for paperwork.

H
azel’s eyes were swimming and her head throbbed. After she’d come back for the treadmill manual, Jaime had quickly assigned Hazel an endless list of boring tasks, ranging from sorting the unpaid bills to testing an entire box full of printer cartridges.

Hazel was also starving. Jaime had brought her a dry turkey sandwich at lunch, but that was hours ago. She had no idea how late she was supposed to stay in the office and was considering making a run for it, when a pair of voices wafted from behind the door to the hall. She hopped out of the chair and peeked through the window, like a prisoner in solitary confinement, ravenous as much for conversation as she was for a decent meal.

A muscular girl with braided blond pigtails walked toward her, followed by a lanky boy with a dark goatee. They both looked to be in their mid-twenties. They stopped at a door and were about to disappear behind it when Hazel burst into the hall.

“Hi!” she said, with just a touch more enthusiasm than
she’d hoped. “I mean, hey. I’m Hazel. I’m … working here now. With Jaime?”

The girl took a step toward her and wiped her hands on the sides of her dirty overalls. “Oh, hey. Rosanna told us to be on the lookout for a new face.” She smiled. Her face was dotted with freckles. “I’m Maura, and this is Craig.” Craig offered an awkward little wave and ducked inside one of the rooms off of the hall.

“Sorry, were we bothering you?” Maura asked, peering over Hazel’s shoulder into the office. “Feeding time can get pretty chaotic.”

“Not at all,” Hazel insisted. “I was just starting to go a little stir crazy.”

Maura laughed, her braids swinging behind her back. “We’re about to head down to the beach for the bonfire,” she explained. “It’s sort of a weekly tradition. You should come.”

At home, Hazel was well practiced in the art of turning down invitations, and rarely saw anybody outside of school or work. But suddenly she found herself feeling grateful for even the possibility of being around people. Especially people other than Jaime. She smiled. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Maura nodded, heading back toward her door. “Let me clean up and we’ll meet you downstairs?”

Hazel nodded and closed herself back inside the tiny office. Jaime would probably be mad she hadn’t gotten to everything, and even more annoyed when Hazel showed up at the bonfire. But Hazel didn’t care.

In fact, it only made her want to go more.

The sun was low in the sky as Craig led the girls down a long, wooded path. Mosquitoes buzzed around their heads and Hazel swatted at one as it nibbled near her ankle. The path ended at a clearing in the forest, where ten or twelve cars, mostly pickup trucks and beat-up hatchbacks, were already parked. They took a rickety old staircase to the beach and Hazel reminded herself not to look down.

On the beach, Maura and Craig kicked their shoes into a pile by the dunes. Hazel did the same, letting her toes sink into the cool, damp sand. The wood was collected in a hole dug up at the edge of the cliffs, and Hazel watched as a group of scruffy-faced older guys arranged it in a pyramid, attempting to light the bottom with a match.

“There’re burgers and hot dogs,” Craig said, pointing across the fire to where Emmett was arranging patties on a charcoal grill.

“Veggie, too, if you want,” Maura added, bending down to roll up the cuffs of her jeans.

“Thanks,” Hazel said, glancing quickly at the crowd as she followed Craig over to a blue plastic cooler. “Are Rosanna and Billy coming?”

“Doubt it.” Craig shrugged as he grabbed a handful of beers from the cooler and offered them around. Hazel politely declined, as Maura tapped the top of her can twice with dirtcaked fingernails before popping it open.

“They let us do our own thing at night,” Maura explained. “Rosanna rocks.”

Hazel felt a mix of disappointment and secret pride. She wanted to know more. If she couldn’t spend time with Rosanna, she at least wanted to be learning as much as she could.

“Heads up,” a familiar voice called from the shore.

Hazel looked out toward the water. Standing just a few yards away was Prince Charming himself, the chestnut-haired guy from the ice-cream shop. Before she could say anything he tossed her a can of beer, lobbing it through the air in a high, impressive arc. She caught it with two hands, the cold aluminum biting her palms.

“Hey, Luke,” Maura called as he joined them. His hair was shaggier and longer than Hazel remembered, and even in the dark there was a glimmer in his deep brown eyes.

“That’s creative,” Craig joked as the boys slapped five. “Throwing things at the new girl. Kind of like kindergarten all over again.”

Luke laughed. He was wearing baggy cargo shorts that came to his knees and a hunter green T-shirt. One sleeve was pushed up higher than the other and she could see the line where his tan ended beneath it. She was surprised at how relieved she felt to be seeing him again—as if she’d been waiting for him to show up.

“Oh, we go way back,” Luke insisted, nudging Hazel with his elbow. “Guess those directions I gave you worked out.”

“Looks that way.” Hazel nodded, and held her arms closer to her sides. Maura and Craig set off for a walk on the beach, and Hazel looked down at the sand, tracing a line with her toe.

“So …,” Luke began. “How’s it going so far?”

He settled down into the sand and patted the space beside him. Hazel lowered herself carefully to the ground, tucking her bare feet beneath her legs. She wished she’d had the sense to grab a sweater. The sun had almost slipped completely below the water line and the air was already crisp and cool.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “I got the job.”

“I had a feeling you would,” Luke said, taking a long sip of his beer. Hazel looked down at the can in her hands and tapped it with her fingers, as she’d seen Maura do. She’d only been to a few official parties in her life, one or two with her college-aged coworkers at the pharmacy. But she knocked back a full swig, trying not to make a face. The beer was bitter and not as cold as the can let on.

“How do you know Maura and Craig?” Hazel asked, swallowing hard. She wedged her can in the sand and twisted it in tight little circles.

“It’s a small island,” Luke said, before turning to face her with a sly grin. “And it’s an even smaller barn.”

Hazel looked up sharply as he leaned back and dug his elbows into the sand. “You live in the barn?”

“I do.” Luke nodded and stretched his long legs. His shins were tanned and strong-looking, with a layer of dark blond hair. “I looked for you yesterday, but I figured you had your hands full with Jaime.”

As if on cue, Jaime shuffled past them, looking at the growing fire. She wore an oversize sweatshirt and cutoff shorts, and Hazel noticed for the first time that her knees were slightly turned in, just like her own. Not like they’d ever bond over that, or anything.

Luke whistled through his teeth, raising his can as Jaime turned. Jaime started to wave back, but quickly stuffed her hand in her pocket as soon as she spotted Hazel.

“I’m guessing I was right,” Luke hedged.

Hazel sighed and took another sip from the can. This one went down somewhat easier. She could already feel a lightness spreading across her chest.