Wildfire: A Novel (The Maple Hills Series)

I’ve had butterflies for days.

At first I thought I was sick but it wasn’t quite nausea, it’s almost like a tingle in my abdomen. It would calm down at night when Emilia and I were in bed, so I thought it was over, but then it’d start again the next day. I questioned if it was an allergy, but I didn’t actually feel sick, just different.

Three days of questioning for me to finally realize it’s butterflies.

“So you’re not dying then?” Emilia croaks, putting the last life jacket back into the storage chest. She’s lost her voice again after a particularly competitive volleyball tournament yesterday. Losing your voice from shouting all day is normal, but it’s not something I’ve suffered. My vocal cords refuse to be silenced, much to Emilia’s disappointment.

We’ve been kayaking this afternoon and had a bit of solitude, well, as much solitude as you can get at camp, and it helped me work out that I have feelings and those feelings are floating around my stomach making me feel weird.

“Not dying. Confirmed.”

“Just malfunctioning over a man, got it.” She doesn’t look at me, so she doesn’t see the finger I’m giving her, but like any good best friend, she knows. “God, you’re so easy to get a rise out of. I like this new you; you’re floating around like an animated woodland creature, it’s super cute.”

“Sorry, did you say something? I can’t hear you.” Looking across the shore, I watch the man in question lifting kayaks and putting them back on the rack with ease. Woodland creature isn’t the worst thing I’ve been called, particularly by Emilia. “I miss Poppy. She balances out how annoying you are.”

“Oh trust me, she’s going to love hearing about this, my little cartoon bunny.” She clears her throat aggressively and starts waving her arms. “Hey, Russ! Could you come help us, please?”

She doesn’t sound like herself when she says it, but it’s just loud enough to capture his attention. Although, I’d bet he has no idea what she said. Putting the final kayak away, he weaves through the campers as Clay leads them away to wash up for dinner. “What are you doing?” I grumble under my breath so he doesn’t hear as he gets closer.

“What’s up?” he says, stopping in front of the two of us.

God, he’s pretty.

Emilia points to the box dramatically. “I really have to use the bathroom. Could you help Rory put the chest back into the storage shed, please?”

“Are you doing okay?” he asks, definitely on behalf of the two of us. “You’re acting odd.”

“You never know who’s listening. You’re welcome.”

“They wouldn’t be able to hear you, even if they tried,” I tease.

It’s her turn to give me the finger as she runs off to follow Clay and, now she’s gone, the butterflies are flapping full force.

Definitely not allergies.

The past few days have been a mixture of loaded glances and hand brushes, hushed voices and knowing smiles. I did worry that after weeks of getting closer, that once our mutual itch was scratched the excitement would wear off. But then he pulled me into an empty hallway and kissed the life out of me and I know that’s not something to worry about.

Mostly I can’t believe there’s a guy who genuinely wants to spend time with me and have a connection with me beyond one that happens when we’re naked. I know that the bar is so low for me when it comes to men, which makes me not trust my own judgment a lot of the time, but I can trust my judgment about Russ.

Russ nudges the chest with his foot, watching it move an inch. He picks it up, his biceps bulging with the weight. “I can do this alone, you don’t need to help.”

Oh, Lord. I am a weak, weak woman. “I want to.”

It isn’t far to the shed, which is less shed and more storage building and, within the minute, I’m flustered from walking behind him, watching his back muscles flex, and holding open the door for him. He drops the chest on the floor in the dark room and thankfully there’s no need for us to do anything else. I shouldn’t head in too and let the door close behind me—but I do.

There’s a light in here somewhere but I have no desire to find it, small streams of sunlight pour in from some upper windows and it’s just enough to let my hands find him.

We don’t say anything as his hands find my shoulders and mine find his waist, his move up to my neck and mine move up to link at the back of his neck. His mouth finds mine, sweet and slow, like he’s trying to memorize the moment his tongue moves against mine. Pushing my body close to him, I sink my fingers into his hair, stretching onto my tiptoes to try and be even closer.

He grips the back of my thighs, maneuvering my legs around him, sitting me on the nearest solid surface. Every touch is perfect but it’s not enough and I still want more. I feel drunk on him; drunk on lust and secrecy and the forbidden.

His mouth travels along my jaw and down my neck. “I want you so badly.”

“You can have me.”

He’s hesitating going further, rightfully so, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want him to rail me against whatever it is my ass is perched on. This is not the place I want to be found with my panties down. The kids aren’t allowed in these buildings and I watched them all head back to their cabin. Neither of us would ever risk that.

Every other member of staff is the risk.

Which annoyingly makes it like ten times hotter than it would be because we might be caught and those familiar feelings I’m used to chasing start to return. The ones that make your nerves feel like livewires and your system is flood with endorphins. It’s addictive, but it’s problematic, and even with all of the different warning sounds alarming in my head, I still want him to test the steadiness of whatever is under me.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispers.

“We definitely shouldn’t,” I whisper. “But if you happen to want to, then just know, I can be super quiet.”

Russ’s laugh is low and husky, dirtier than normal and I start to throb. That’s where I’m at—throbbing at dirty laughs. “You’re so smart,” he teases, and I swear this man is trying to end me. “But I love it when you’re loud.”

His mouth is back on mine and I use my legs to pull him closer to me, groaning when his erection presses into the apex of my thighs. I’m ready to say fuck it and get on my knees, but that’s when something falls, scaring the shit out of the both of us.

He kisses me again, slow and gentle this time, rubbing his hands up and down the back of my thighs, and then there’s definitely something moving.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask, reluctantly unhooking my legs and putting them back on the floor. He helps me down as I pat around the wall to find the light switch. Flicking it on, the whole room lights up the boxes and shelves full of equipment.

“I can’t see anything . . .” he says, as confused as I am.

“I don’t thin—” That’s when the biggest possum I’ve ever seen in my life scurries in front of me and I scream so loud, I’m surprised the building doesn’t tumble down.

Russ is convinced the universe sent a possum to stop us acting like sluts and make us get back to work.

He’s also ashamed that the school system, or my many summers at this very camp, didn’t teach me that possums aren’t dangerous. If they’re not dangerous, why do they have such pointy teeth? And no, he didn’t really use the word “sluts” but whatever he said went straight over my head because his hand was hovering on my lower back and I was still uncomfortably wet and horny.

Fucking possums.

I’m keeping myself extra busy tonight being camp counselor extraordinaire; no dance too hard, no hot chocolate too many. Anything to keep me busy and away from the hockey player who has me acting irrationally. Irrational isn’t unfamiliar to me. Irrational because of a crush has never happened before.

I’m helping Jade plop her curls when Emilia throws herself down beside me. “I need to go to bed. I’m getting my period and I feel like simultaneously crying, throwing up and fighting. The guys said they’d cover me tonight, is that okay? I’m sorry.”

“Of course it is. Do you need me to do anything for you?”

Jade looks over her shoulder to where we’re sitting behind her. “My mom makes all my sister’s drink peppermint tea.”

“Good shout, sweetie. Emilia, go to bed. I’ll bring you some tea when I’m done here. Do you want chocolate?” She nods and she’s significantly paler than she was a few hours ago. “I won’t be long.”

After I’m done with Jade’s hair, Clay promises to help round everyone up for bed while I grab the things to help Emilia feel better. By the time I’m approaching the kids’ cabin a short while later, it’s alarmingly quiet.

Pushing the door open, I’m immediately greeted by Clay, Russ, Xander and Maya, all staring back at me, panic in their eyes. All the kids are settling down nicely, the odd one still pottering around getting ready for bed. I look across the four of them. “What did you do?”

“I’m out, man,” Xander says, keeping his head down as he slaps Russ on the arm.

“I love you, Aurora, but I’m not strong enough for this,” Maya adds.

“God speed, brother,” Clay says, following the other two out of the door, not making eye contact with me.

Russ runs his hand down his face and blows out a strained sigh. “What did I miss?” I ask cautiously.

“Hi, Ror,” he says happily, sounding totally fake and forced. “I’m covering Emilia and I thought that might be nice for us, y’know. I had a cute plan. It involved snacks and—”

“Russ, did you lose a camper or something? Why are you being so strange?”

He sighs again and at this point I’m honestly preparing for him to tell me something dreadful—and he kind of does. “You look really pretty today.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” I drawl, gradually losing my patience.

“Kevin took the biggest crap I’ve ever seen in my life and he’s blocked the entire toilet.” He gags a little. “And when you try to flush it, all the others fill up and I’m sorry, but it’s horrible. I know we’re only supposed to call maintenance for things we can’t fix, but I don’t know if anyone can fix this.”

“Oh my goodness.” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay, come on, drama queen. Lead the way. Surely you’re used to this? Didn’t you live in a frat house?”

“I don’t know any grown man capable of replicating this,” he says, totally serious.

Isn’t this romantic? Nothing helps people get to know each other better than bonding over the rim of a toilet. I can smell the problem before we’re even in the very large bathroom. To accommodate the numbers of campers in the building, the attached bathrooms have multiple toilet and private shower stalls and, somehow, Kevin has supposedly managed to clog all of the plumbing.

Standing with my hand on my hips, I nod toward the offending stall and there’s a look of panic on Russ’s face as he realizes I’m asking him to do something. “You’re the engineer, Callaghan. Engineer us a solution.”

“Block up the doorway and never return. There’s my solution.”

“I’m going to flush it and hope for the best.”

“I’ve already tried that . . .” he says, holding my hips to stop me walking into the cubicle. He pulls me until my back is resting against his chest, his hands stay on my hips and my stomach flips. Damn bugs. “Maybe we should call maintenance now.”

I step out of his grasp, because we’re not having this cute as hell moment resolving a poop issue. “Calling maintenance is admitting defeat.”

“I admit defeat,” he holds his hands up as a gesture of surrender and moves to sit against the counter. “I was defeated before you even got here. Let’s call maintenance.”

“I’ll just flush it once to see what happens.”

“Aurora, don’t . . .”

“It’ll help me work out what’s wrong,” I say covering my nose as I step into the stall.

“Ror, you’re going to flood everywhere.”

“No, I’m not. It’ll probably just go down.”

I press the lever down and the plumbing makes a sound I’ve never heard before.

I can feel Russ’s eyes on me from across the kitchen counter, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction of looking at him.

“I did tell you,” he says smugly.

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear it.”

After I flooded the bathroom and we had to evacuate the kids, we finally have them resettled in the main building. Thankfully, because we do movie nights in here, there were already mats for them to use and Cooper, the senior working tonight, was able to point us in the direction of sleeping bags.

I’d like to think that the kids sensed the stress radiating off me because none of them have tried me and they all lay down on their makeshift beds straight away. There’s a kitchen attached to the main room where we make drinks and snacks in the evening and that’s where I spend the next fifteen minutes guzzling whipped cream straight from the can.

Russ moves around the table until he’s standing beside me. He nudges me with his hip gently, so I nudge back and, before I know it, I’m on top of the counter with a huge man between my legs.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ears on both sides.

“Build a time machine and go back to before I flushed that toilet.”

“I could do that. Might take me a little bit of time though.”

I point the bottle toward him and he opens his mouth, letting me squirt whipped cream onto his tongue. “If you could go back in time and change something, what would you change?”

It’s a question I think about a lot, which is silly because it’ll never happen, but for some reason I love to torment myself with how I’d have done things differently.

His hands rub up and down my thighs gently and he concentrates on watching that instead of looking at me, until he eventually shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? You wouldn’t change mistakes you’ve made or even, like, exams you could have done better on or something?” He shakes his head. “Seriously, nothing?”

“Have you heard of the butterfly effect?”

“I am familiar with butterflies, yes.” There are currently one hundred of them living in my abdomen and they all come to life when you’re near me. However, I think he’s probably talking about the movie. “What effect do they have on my time machine?”

“Not butterflies, the butterfly effect. If I change one thing in my past, it’d cause a ripple effect and I wouldn’t chance not meeting you.”

Make that two hundred butterflies, all flapping at once.

My throat feels dry, but I force out the words anyway. “You know you don’t have to sweet talk me to get into my pants, right? You’ve already done that bit.”

“I’m not sweet talking you, but I’m never going to get bored of seeing your cheeks flush pink.”

It’s an overwhelming feeling, watching Russ step into the guy he clearly is deep down when you ward off the insecurities. I feel so fucking lucky that I’m the one watching.

My kiss catches him off guard but he settles into it quickly and I hope to God that nobody steps on a butterfly.