Flirting with Boys (3 page)

C
eleste! Wake up. It's nine forty-five! Where's Devon? They're asking for her in the office.”

Celeste turned over and pulled the sheets over her head, hoping the ungodly banging and her mother's voice at the door would stop if she just ignored them both. But of course, that would have made this someone else's life. Next to her, Devon flopped around like a beached fish and groaned. Then, with a monumental effort, she sat up in bed.

“Hi, Mrs. Tippen!” she shouted through the closed door. “I'm here. I'll be down to the office in ten minutes, no worries!”

Mom's concerned voice continued. “The dining room's ending breakfast service in fifteen minutes. If you two don't make it, that's it until lunch.”

Celeste bolted upright, swiping the hair out her eyes. “Okay!” she called. “We'll be right there.”

Devon climbed out of bed and tried to smooth some of the wrinkles out of the silver minidress she was still wearing. Celeste eyed her friend. “Are you going to work in that?” she asked.

“No problem.” Devon started rummaging in Celeste's closet. “I'm just going to borrow your black ballet flats and this wraparound top, okay?” She tied the black jersey top at the waist, slipped on the flats, and scraped her hair into a bun.

Celeste laughed. “You are amazing. How is it that you look like you've been planning that outfit for weeks?”

“Natural skill.” Devon winked and opened the door.

“Hey, what about breakfast?” Celeste called after her.

“Can't.” Devon's voice floated up the stairs. “It's my first day on the new job….” Her words trailed off as the front door banged.

Celeste jumped out of bed and leaned out the open window to inhale the fresh morning air. The lemon sunlight spread over the white buildings of the resort and the desert beyond like icing. It was a gorgeous morning—the start of her first summer working with Travis! Well, working
near
Travis, Celeste amended to herself. Even if they were going to be in totally different jobs, he was here and that was what mattered. Celeste felt like doing a Julie Andrews “The Hills Are Alive” dance around the
room, but breakfast was waiting. Travis's job didn't start until next week, so she pushed her lingering fear about a Travis-Nick showdown out of her mind for now. She took the world's fastest shower and plaited her hair into two long braids. Then she put on her white sleeveless polo shirt with the discreet Pinyon logo and her regulation khaki shorts. She didn't know why Mom had to choose Bermuda length for this year's uniform. It just made her legs look stumpy. Cursing Devon for having snagged the one non-uniform-requiring job at Pinyon, she stuck her feet into her Sperry Top-Siders and rubbed on a little M.A.C. Lipglass and some mascara.

In the spacious terra cotta–colored dining room, her father was sitting at his usual back table, papers and forms spread out everywhere. A cup of black coffee and a croissant with a single bite out of it were pushed to one side. Celeste collapsed in the chair across from him and picked up a piece of rubber tubing sitting on the table.

“What's this?” she asked.

“Sink piping,” Dad answered, furiously signing a stack of invoices. “Harold ordered fifty of them and they're all the wrong size. Mrs. Klein called down this morning and said her sink was spraying all over the bathroom floor.”

“Oh.” Celeste was rapidly losing interest. She put the tubing down and looked around for breakfast. As if by magic, a skinny guy in a white jacket appeared next to
her. “Oh, awesome, Rick! Thanks.” Celeste could see the tattoos on the backs of both his hands as he set down a plate with a toasted bagel, cream cheese, and a dish of blueberries and punched Celeste lightly in the shoulder. “Solomon says to tell you that he only toasted your bagel because you promised to help him post that ad for his washing machine on Craigslist.”

“Of course! We can do it this afternoon.”

“Rick,” Dad said, looking up with a frown, “all of the strawberries were wilted this morning. Remember we discussed the importance of garnishes at the last kitchen staff meeting.”

“Yes, Mr. Tippen,” Rick said seriously. Celeste caught his glance and rolled her eyes at her father.

“And please, for the last time, you need to remove your lip ring. Remember Pinyon dress code.”

“Right, no problem.” Rick hurried away.

Celeste took a huge bite of her bagel and followed it with a gulp of orange juice. Pinyon Ranch's trademark was fresh orange juice squeezed every morning from their own orange grove out back. It was one of Celeste's favorite things in the entire world.

“Celeste,” her father said.

“Yeth?” she said through a mouthful of bagel.

“We need to go over the schedule for today.” Her father pulled out a huge spreadsheet covered with tiny boxes showing everything that was happening at the
resort that day and who was supposed to be doing what. “Now, the first thing—Larry and Kathy Saunders will be arriving in half an hour.”

Oh.
Celeste set down her bagel. Suddenly, it tasted like cardboard soaked in guilt.

“I need you to go over to the guesthouse this morning and check it. Everything should be ready, but I want you to place the welcome basket and our personal note to them.”

“Okay,” Celeste mumbled.

“Celeste.”

She looked up. Dad set down his pen and slid his reading glasses onto the tip of his nose. Oh no. It was the “I'm going to tell you something very important that will require you to do a large amount of work” look. She'd been familiar with it since birth.

“The Saunders family are our best customers,” Dad said. “Their happiness this summer is our number-one priority.”

“Of course, Dad!” Celeste widened her eyes, hoping he wouldn't notice the blood draining from her face.

Her father knit his eyebrows. “Your mother and I are depending on you to help keep them happy and coming back. I want you to keep that in mind.”

Celeste set down her spoon. She probably shouldn't eat any more blueberries considering the way her stomach was churning.

Dad went on. “Second thing. I've informed Jason that he should be on the lookout for Travis Helding at ten thirty sharp. They'll need to go over the procedure for—”

“Wait, what? I thought Travis wasn't starting until next week!” In fact, she'd been counting on having a few days to get things straight with Nick—as in, this summer, there was going to be
no
flirting and definitely no fooling around.

“He was, but Dominick dropped a mower engine on his foot this morning. He'll be out for the summer. I called Travis and told him he needed to start earlier than planned. You know that the grounds crew is the one area where we absolutely cannot be shorthanded.” Dad looked up and caught Celeste's stricken stare. “I hope there aren't going to be any problems with Travis working here this summer. You know that I consider him an employee like everyone else—and subject to the same rules.”

“Dad! You haven't even given him a chance yet,” Celeste exclaimed. “You can't hold the golf cart thing against him all summer. Believe me, Travis is going to be awesome, I swear.”

Her father raised his eyebrows slightly. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Celeste resisted the urge to roll her eyes and leaped up from the table, cramming the last bite of bagel into her mouth. Grabbing the welcome basket from the walk-in
refrigerator in the kitchen, she hurried down the path to the guesthouses, oblivious to the deep blue desert sky arcing above and the palm trees waving gently in the salty, dry breeze. Around her, grounds crew workers were clipping the short, thick emerald grass or trimming juniper bushes into round spheres. Robe-clad women padded by in terry-cloth slippers, on their way to the spa for facials and massages. As Celeste rounded the pool, she could see the first batch of well-browned sun worshippers baking in the ninety-degree desert heat, the cool blue pool water spread beside them like an oasis. As usual, there was that one woman sitting under a pool umbrella, covered from head to toe in a long-sleeved cotton shirt, long cotton pants, huge sunglasses and, a sun hat.
Why does she even bother?
Celeste thought in spite of her rush.

At ten thirty sharp, she found herself standing next to her parents in the lobby of the main building, waiting to welcome the Saunderses. She fidgeted as the black Mercedes drew up in front of the bank of glass doors and a driver in a dark shirt jumped out. He opened the back door and Mr. and Mrs. Saunders appeared, both crisply dressed in white linen and hidden behind huge dark sunglasses. Then a shaggy blond head emerged, followed by perfectly toned shoulders in a Dries Van Noten shirt. Nick climbed out of the car and stood by the door, his bronze skin glowing in the sunlight. He might have been
posing for a Ralph Lauren photo shoot. As Celeste watched, he drew a pair of Ray-Bans from the pocket of his khaki shorts and slid them on.

Celeste's face was flaming and her palms were sweaty. How could she have forgotten how hot he was? Her heart was thumping so hard beneath her polo shirt that she placed her hand on her chest to muffle the noise.
Okay, you've got to stop
, she told herself.
This is not right. No slobbering over Mr. Rich and Arrogant!
She took a deep breath and tried to shake off the creeping feeling that the summer had just gotten a lot more complicated.

The driver started lifting out suitcase after Louis Vuitton suitcase and lining them up at the curb as Mr. and Mrs. Saunders bustled inside. “Larry!” Mr. Saunders greeted Mr. Tippen, his tan, beefy hand outstretched. “Good to see you!” The two shook hands while Celeste's mom kissed pale, delicate Mrs. Saunders on her discreetly Botoxed and bronzered cheek. Celeste smiled and hugged Mr. Saunders. Mrs. Saunders gave her a kiss.

“Celeste, dear! You look lovely. Doesn't she, Larry?” she said, turning to her husband. “Lovelier every year.”

“Mmm, yes,” Mr. Saunders replied, nodding his dark blond head. Even with the slight puffiness of a middle-aged workaholic, his resemblance to his teenage son, with his chiseled jaw, was striking. “You're really growing up, Celeste. Turning into quite the lady.”

Celeste wished everyone would stop talking about
how she looked, especially since Nick had come up behind his parents and was standing there with a typically flirtatious grin on his face.

“
I
think she looks lovely too, Mom,” he said loudly, stepping forward. “Don't I get a hug?”

He put his arms around her and squeezed her tight. “Did I say ‘lovely,' because I meant hot,” Nick breathed suggestively into her ear. Before she knew what was happening, he'd lifted her high off the ground and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey!” Celeste said, laughing and struggling to escape his grasp. “No harassing the employees!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her eyes locked on the doorway to the back patio. Travis stood just beyond Nick's shoulder wearing a green Pinyon staff shirt and a supremely pissed-off glare.

C
eleste's mouth went dry and she felt all her muscles clench, turning her into a stick of wood in Nick's arms. Sensing the change, he set her down and turned around, then smirked.

“Boyfriend?” he asked silkily. Travis had disappeared.

Celeste avoided his eyes. Her hands felt awkward all of a sudden, so she smoothed her hair to give them something to do. “I hope you're going to like the guesthouse this year,” she said to Mrs. Saunders. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded too loud and cheerful. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nick still watching her, a little smile curling the edges of his full-lipped mouth. She studiously ignored him. “We redid all the kitchens and bathrooms.”

Mrs. Saunders was rummaging in her giant Marc Jacobs bag. “I'm sure it will be perfect, as always. Your parents do such a beautiful job here.”

“Celeste.”

She looked around at her father's voice.

“Would you mind just showing the Saunderses to their guesthouse and seeing if there's anything we can get them as they settle in?” her dad asked.

“Sure, Dad,” Celeste said, betraying none of the urgency telling her to run away and find Travis as fast as she could.

She managed to avoid walking with Nick down the path to the guesthouse, since Mr. Saunders took her by the arm and made her tell him about school the whole way. Still, she could feel his eyes boring into her back at every step. When she turned around just once, he dropped her a wink as if to say he totally knew she was avoiding him.

“Ah, just as I remember it,” Mrs. Saunders exclaimed as Celeste opened the front door. She inhaled deeply and stepped over the threshold into the cool, dim interior. Mr. Saunders brushed past, pulling his beeping BlackBerry out of his pocket. He went out onto the deck. “Get those contracts in the mail!” Celeste heard him say before he reached back and slid the heavy glass doors shut. She turned to go, but before she could, Nick caught at her arm.

She turned around. He just smiled and put his hands
in his khaki pockets. There was a long moment of silence. His eyes were so bright blue, they looked like chips of glacier. Celeste tried to hold his gaze, but it was too intense. She dropped her eyes.

“What?” she finally asked.

He smirked, infuriatingly still holding her arm. “I was just thinking about that night on the golf course—”

“Not happening, Nick. There will be no reliving of old times.” She was impatient to leave. Travis was out there somewhere, getting more pissed off by the second.

“Oh, good. I prefer to try new things anyway. I had a thought….” Was he deliberately taking his sweet time to get the sentence out or was it just her?

“Nick, I have a boyfriend. And I'd like to keep it that way. So this,” she snapped, yanking her arm away from him and gesturing between the two of them. “This is going to be entirely professional this summer. You're a guest at my family's resort. That's all.”

He widened his big sparkly eyes in mock dismay. “All I'm asking is if you could possibly bring me a sandwich from the kitchen—a fancy one with some sort of exotic-sounding cheese. And some fruit. And a Pellegrino with lime, if you have it. The drive up was really long, you know, and—”

Now Celeste could barely contain her annoyance. Which was actually kind of good, since the more irritating he acted, the easier it was to forget that he
looked like a sun-bleached Zac Efron. “As you're fully aware, you can just call room service. It's
their
job,” she added pointedly.

“Oh.” He pouted for a second and then brightened. “Well, I'll call room service and ask if they can send you back with a sandwich for me. It's that personal attention, you know, that keeps us coming back year after year.”

This time, Celeste just turned and walked out the door. She could hear him laugh behind her.

Celeste hurried down the path toward the maintenance sheds, panting a little in the hot sun. Her hair straggled out of its braids and clung sweatily to her forehead. She brushed through an opening in a tall hedge and came upon a small, plain wooden building. She peered through the open screen door where a tall man with a shock of wild gray curls was kneeling in front of an open file cabinet.

“Dave, have you seen Travis?” Celeste asked. The man looked up and a wide grin split his face. A gold front tooth glinted in the sun.

“Why are you so eager to find him?” he asked. He straightened up and grabbed a Big Gulp from the desk, noisily sucking up some Mountain Dew.

Celeste made a face. “That stuff is so nasty, Dave.”

Dave grinned again. “Sixty-four ounces just isn't enough.”

“So, um, have you seen Travis?”

Dave turned back to the files. “I sent that boy out with the mowing crew to break him in a little. They're doing the golf course.”

Celeste groaned. The golf course was acres of rolling green hills, palm groves, and ponds. It would take her hours to find Travis out there. “Thanks, Dave,” she called through the screen.

She trotted over the flat, grassy lawns, past the first sand trap and the caddy shed until, with relief, she saw the big green riding mowers circling the first hole. Travis's curly head bobbed on the seat of one. He seemed to be struggling with one of the gears. He shoved it and the mower stalled and then died. Travis gave the steering wheel a whack with his fist.

“Trav!” Celeste called out and waved. He looked up and then climbed down off the mower and kicked at one of the wheels before coming over.

Celeste quailed a little as he approached. She could tell by the vein throbbing in his forehead that he was still mad. Slowly, he walked over and stood in front of her, not saying anything.

She reached out and put her hand on his forearm. “Travis—look, I know you're mad about earlier.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and looked away. Celeste rushed on.

“But it's not how it looks at all! That guy—that was Nick Saunders. He and parents have been coming here
forever. They're our best customers. We've basically grown up together.”

Travis was still gazing over the golf course. “Well, that didn't seem like a particularly brotherly hug.” His voice was cold.

“Travis—look at me! He just grabbed me—I didn't even have time to react.” She struggled to keep the tears out of her voice but her throat was swelling dangerously. “Look, don't be like this. I'm
not
interested in Nick Saunders. All I've been thinking about since yesterday is spending the summer with
you.
It's my job to be nice to him.” She paused for a moment and took a breath. He bent down and peered into her face.

“Are you crying?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling.

“No,” Celeste said, as a tear trickled down the side of her nose.

Travis wrapped his big arms around her and pulled her into his chest. Celeste buried her nose in his shoulder and inhaled his smell of cut grass, clean sweat, and Lever 2000 soap.

“Look, I'm sorry,” Travis murmured into the hair at the top of her head. “I'm being a jealous jerk. I just hate thinking of you with anyone else. Can we forget I ever said anything?”

Celeste nodded. “That sounds great.”

Travis slid his arm around her waist and started guiding her back to the grounds crew shed.

“Don't you have to keep mowing?” she asked.

Travis shook his head. “The gearshift's busted on that mower. I have to go tell Dave anyway.”

They strolled together over the flat green desert grass. Celeste rested her head on Travis's arm. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Hey, let's take a lunch break and go get some food,” he said.

Celeste hesitated. “Well, I'm not really supposed to take lunch until one….” She stopped when she saw the laugh lines around Travis's mouth.

“Oh, you're having lunch with me,” he said, his face splitting into a grin. “Right now. I'm kidnapping you for turkey sandwiches.” In one movement, he scooped Celeste up in a fireman's carry and started trotting down the path. She shrieked, laughing hysterically, and beat on his back with her fists.

“Okay, okay, I surrender! I'll let you feed me,” she yelled. She felt her foot hit something soft at the side of the path.

“Ooof!” someone said. Travis twirled around with Celeste still over his shoulder.

“Hey, sorry,” Celeste heard him saying.

“Travis!” she whispered. “Put me down!”

He set her on her feet. Dave was standing in the middle of the path. Celeste hastily tried to tuck some of the hair back into her braids.

“Travis, I was just coming to find all of you guys,”
Dave said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Mr. Tippen's called an all-staff meeting for tonight. He wants to see everyone in the staff lounge after hours, nine o'clock. And, Celeste, there's a room service request that asked for you specifically.”

Celeste felt the smile drop slowly off her face. She sighed and nodded. “Okay, Dave. I'll get right on it.” So much for the brief escape. Back to Pinyon life.