Stealing Third Read online

  “Thanks, Em. And don’t worry, we’ll still get to see each other since you’ll be able to come to the counselor’s campfires now that you’re a junior counselor. But listen, I need to get back to my cabin to greet the little munchkins, so go check in and get settled, and I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

  “’kay,” I say, smiling, despite my disappointment that I’m going to be stuck with some total random as my senior counselor now.

  And unfortunately, after getting checked in, it doesn’t take long to find out exactly who that random will be.

  When I reach the front steps of cabin number eight a high pitched voice screeches through the screen door, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  Great. Jenny Osborne.

  I brace myself for the inevitable, over the top fake welcome I know I’m about to receive. It’s her signature move, besides gossiping about you once you leave the room.

  “O.M.G! Emily!” Jenny rushes towards me as I step into the cabin. She snatches up my hands and begins to jump up and down, squealing. “I’m so excited you’re finally here, slowpoke. Get on your suit, and hurry, everyone is down at the lake.” She tosses her long blond hair over her shoulder, eyeing my hair, and then grabs her towel from her bed. “See ya there.”

  The screen door shuts behind her with a bang and just as predicted Jenny’s voice echoes through the surrounding forest like she’s purposely trying to make sure I hear her. Which I’m pretty sure she is. “Nice hair.”

  I roll my eyes. This is going to be one long summer…that is, if I was planning on sticking around.

  I dig in my duffle bag until I find my favorite bikini, the white one with the red strings, and slip it on. Snatching up my towel, sunscreen, and sunglasses I make my way to the lake. I might as well have fun for the short amount of time I’ll be stuck here.

  The shore is packed with the younger campers splashing around in the shallow water while Jenny, and the rest of the high school aged campers, are gathered at the very end of the dock.

  “Hey, sexy,” a guy says way too loudly in my ear from behind, wrappings his arms around my bare torso. My stomach flips as I flash back to the way the word ‘sexy’ rolled off Tyler’s tongue last night, but I can tell this is no Tyler. His arms are too bulky, and his breath smells like Slim Jims. Todd-the-bod.

  I wiggle around, loosening Todd’s grip, as I turn to face him. He’s even bigger than he was last year. His long floppy hair, that he used to swoosh out of his eyes like Justin Bieber, is now ultra short, spiky and frosted on the tips, and his tan is so dark orange it looks like he fell into a vat of food coloring. Uck. What was I thinking?

  “Hey, Todd. How’s it going?” I say, taking a step back, so his hands fall away from my sides as I try and stifle a laugh—at myself—for having had a crush on him last summer. Funny how a year can change so much. Well that…and a night like last night.

  “Good. Good.” He bobs his head on the giant swollen muscle that used to be his neck. “You know, been working out. Actually placed third in a body building comp a few weeks ago, so yeah. I’ve been pretty awesome.”

  This time I can’t stop myself. I let out a laugh. “Wow, that does sound awesome.”

  “You know what would be even more awesome?” Todd asks, obviously missing my sarcasm.

  I raise my brows in anticipation of what could be more awesome in Todd’s world. “What would that be?”

  “This!”he yells, whipping me up and tossing me over his hulking shoulder before running full speed down the dock.

  Kicking my legs in protest, a whistle blares. “No running!” the lifeguard shouts from his chair before blowing the whistle again.

  I hammer my fists against his back, but it’s no use, I might as well be pounding a brick wall. “Todd, put me down.”

  “If you say so,” Todd says, coming to a halt a foot or two away from the edge of the dock before heaving me into the air. I brace myself for the impact of the cold lake water but instead feel the hard wooden dock crack against the back of my head.

  And then nothing.

  Chapter 8

  Tyler

  Sitting back and scanning the crowd, a girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of ultra short shorts causes me to do a double take. But just like all the other times this morning I’ve nearly broken my neck thinking I’ve seen her, I realize I’m wrong.

  No red tips.

  I shake my head, reminding myself for the hundredth time, unless I feel like getting my balls put through the automatic pitching machine by Coach, that girl is strictly off limits. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get her number last night. No need to be tempted, right?

  “Help!” a girl screams, her voice pulling me from my thoughts and cutting through the laughter and steady chatter of the kids playing around the small lake. “Help!”

  I jump from the lifeguard tower, grab my rescue tube, and rush to the end of the dock. A tall blonde is franticly pointing at an unconscious girl, her face partially submerged in the water, as she’s being dragged to the dock by some big guy who clearly doesn’t know what in the hell he’s doing.

  “I don’t think she’s breathing!” he yells as I leap into the water and take the girl from his grip.

  Rolling her over I tuck the U shaped rescue tube under the small of her back to open her airways. “Are you okay?” I shout, performing the first step to assess her state of consciousness before shaking her pale, limp limbs gently. “Can you hear me?”

  Shit, nothing.

  I wrap my arm around her waist, careful to keep her head above water and take two short strokes to the edge of the dock, where the big guy who had been trying to rescue her, jumps out of the water and reaches back to help me lift her out.

  Laying her flat, even with her hair splayed across her face, I can see her lips are a deadly shade of blue, and a watery mix of blood is running down her neck and is pooling on the dock.

  “Call 911,” I bark at the guy as I tilt her head back, jutting her jaw forward, and putting my ear to her mouth. There’s no breath and her chest isn’t moving, but I can still feel a faint pulse.

  Like on autopilot—my CPR training kicks in without a thought—I suck in a deep breath, pinch her nose, and then close my mouth around hers.

  Blowing hard, I push my air into her lungs and watch as her chest rises and falls, but still she remains unmoving.

  I take another breath and blow again. Her chest repeats the rise and fall as I administer two more deep breaths before her body twitches and she finally regains consciousness, sputtering up lake water.

  “Try not to move,” I instruct as a precaution, in as calm a voice as I can muster, despite the circumstances. She coughs weakly, but remains lying flat and relatively still as the sirens blare in the distance. “And don’t worry, help is on its way.”

  Surrounding us, a small crowd looks on in shock. A few girls stand huddled together crying while small rivulets of blood continue to run down her neck, chest and arms, despite no visible source of an injury.

  “Did you see what happened?” I ask the tall blond girl, hoping she saw the accident so I can relay her account to the paramedics.

  “It all happened so fast. One minute she was goofing around with Todd,” the girl gestures to the big guy, “and then the next thing I know she’s floating face down in the water. I think she hit her head, I mean, that’s what it sounded like, but I’m not sure—” the girl chokes on her words.

  That explains the blood. “How are you doing?” I ask, as I start to run my fingers through the now-conscious girl’s hair to check for a gash.

  “I’m okay…I think,” she says, barely above a whisper, her voice horse and her breath shallow. “I’m kind of dizzy.”

  “The paramedics are almost here,” Doc Newton, the camp’s doctor says in a reassuring voice as he rushes down the dock and then kneels next me. I’m not sure if it’s meant for me or her, but either way it helps. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Um…I don’t r
eally remember.” She tries to sit up, panicked, but Doc gently guides her back down.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay, take a deep breath,” Doc says in the same calm way he talks to us out on the field. He pulls his pen light from his front shirt pocket and turns to me. “Ford?”

  “Ah…let’s see…um…” I stutter. My adrenaline finally catches up with me, making it hard to wrap my mind around the last few minutes, let alone to recap it in a cohesive way.

  I pull in a deep breath, and let my nerves settle. This is what I’m here for.

  “She was unresponsive when I pulled her from the water. I assessed she was not breathing, but still had a pulse, so I administered rescue breaths until she regained consciousness.” I rub the back of my neck. What else? “Oh, a witness thinks she may have hit her head. I did detect bleeding but was unable to find the source.”

  Doc nods, giving me a firm pat on the back.

  “Sweetie, my name is Doctor Newton. You’ve been in a small accident, so I’m going to need to ask you a few questions, okay? Can you tell me your name?” he asks, brushing the wet matted hair from her face.

  Her eyes lock with mine. “Hottie Mchottieface?” she murmurs, before passing out cold.

  …

  As the paramedics approach, crash bag in hand, I stumble out of their way. Although—I might be the one who needs a defibrillator—since my heart just stopped. Laying on the dock is Emily.

  Amazing kisser, Emily. Coach’s kid, Emily.

  I shake my head. What the hell? Emily?

  Still in shock, I get swallowed up by the growing crowd of onlookers who are snickering at Emily’s response to Doc. Hottie Mchottieface? She really must have hit her head. Hard.

  “Miss?” a paramedic asks, wrapping an arm band around Emily’s thin bicep and pumping the hand held valve to inflate the cuff and measure her blood pressure. “One fifty over a hundred,” he calls to another paramedic. I flinch. That’s pretty high. “Miss, can you hear me?” the EMT asks again, waving a small tube of smelling salts under her nose, to arouse her back into consciousness.

  Her long, dark lashes flutter as she slowly opens her eyes, a look of confusion washing over her face when the paramedic shines a penlight into her eyes. “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Um…It’s Emily…Emily Evers.”

  The paramedic examines Emily’s neck and extremities before helping her into a sitting position. “Miss, do you know where you are?”

  Emily’s eyes roam the crowd, and then freeze when they settle on me. “In hell?”

  The crowd laughs at Emily’s assessment of her current whereabouts, the paramedic, not so much. “Miss?”

  She glances around at the lake and then back at the EMT. “Camp.”

  “Very good. Are you experiencing any unusual pain or dizziness?”

  Emily nods. “Yeah, my head is killing me.” She lifts her hand to the back of her head as she looks down at her once white bathing suit now tinged a reddish-pink with blood. “I’m bleeding?” she says, looking like she might pass out again as she whips her head up and winces in pain.

  “Oxygen, please,” the paramedic requests as he begins to probe her head, searching for a cut, just like I did.

  “It’s okay. Take a few deep breaths,” the other paramedic says, slipping the oxygen mask over Emily’s mouth and nose, blood splattering him as he adjusts her hair to better secure the mask’s elastic loops over her ears.

  That’s it.

  “It’s her hair,” I blurt out so loud that Emily, Doc, and both paramedics look up at me in confusion before understanding washes over Emily’s face. Her cheeks flush as red as the dye dripping off the ends of her hair and running down her bare arms.

  “I’m sorry?” Doc asks glancing between Emily and me.

  Emily pulls the oxygen mask down so she can answer, no longer hyperventilating. “Tyler’s right, I’m not bleeding, it’s just hair dye that washes out gradually.”

  “But how did Mr. Ford…” Doc begins, and then just like Emily, understanding dawns on him. “Of course. You and Tyler must know each other through your dad.”

  Emily’s eyes dart to mine as she bites down on her lip. “Ummm…” she murmurs, stalling. I assume to gauge whether I know what in the hell Doc is talking about.

  I do.

  I cross my arms, still mad she didn’t divulge that small detail before we were busy trying to rip each other’s clothes off last night.

  “That’s right,” I say to Doc, but I narrow my eyes at her. “Emily and I go way back.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” Doc stands, brushing off his khakis. “Seeing as Miss Evers here has endured a minor concussion, she’ll need to be awoken every hour throughout the night, and now I can rest assured she will get the utmost care from you.”

  “From me?” I balk, at the same time as Emily croaks, “From him?” Our simultaneous questions cause Doc’s eyebrows to crease.

  “That won’t be a problem, will it?” Doc Newton’s voice takes on a more professional note, reminding me for the summer he is no longer the team doctor, but he is technically my boss when the opportunity allows for me to shadow him.

  “Ah, no, sir, it’s no problem. I’ll be happy to monitor Miss Evers’s symptoms overnight,” I say, giving him my most confident smile, even though the only thing I’m confident of is how hard it’s going to be to keep my hands off of her. “No problem at all.”

  Yeah, right.

  Chapter 9

  Emily

  Worst. Dream. Ever.

  I roll over in bed and my head pounds harder than the bass at last night’s party. I swear I didn’t drink that much. Did I?

  If the throbbing in my skull is any indication, I totally did. Although—if waking up feeling this bad is a prerequisite for feeling as good as Hottie Mchottieface, Tyler Ford, made me feel last night—than I’d totally do it again, and again, and again, and again. Hangover be damned.

  I try to peel my eyes open, but it’s no use, so I give up and snuggle deeper into the covers, the light scent of peppermint mixed with glove oil and leather assaults my senses. Just like in my dream when Tyler rescued me from drowning.

  Wait. Why do my covers smell like glove oil and leather?

  My eyes have no problem flying open this time, expecting my fluffy pink comforter and the warm rays of sunlight peeking through the windows next to my bed, but instead, it takes a moment for them to adjust to the dark room that’s cold, white, and sterile…and definitely not mine.

  I toss back the covers and sit up, causing the steady throbbing in my head to feel more like a jackhammer breaking through a thick slab of concrete. Exactly like the ones Kat and I saw construction workers on the highway using on our way here. To camp. Yesterday. Oh, shit.

  So. Not. A. Dream.

  Dropping my head in my hands and moaning in pain, a wave of nausea hits me. Great. The only way to top off this awesome day would be a little vomit.

  I lift my head in search of a garbage pail, just in case I really do have to hurl, and find it quickly—and in use. By Tyler. Asleep in the chair next to my bed, with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his feet propped up on the trashcan. And looking amazing.

  I suck in a breath, letting the events of yesterday hit me as hard as I hit my head. Lucy’s not my counselor. Jenny Osborne is. Todd-the-bod nearly killed me. And Tyler Ford is here. At camp.

  I drop back into my pillow, the palms of my hands covering my eyes, and regret it immediately when pain sears my skull.

  “Ouch,” I cry out, sitting back up and finding a knot—the size of a goose-egg—on the back of my head.

  Tyler shoots from his chair. “Are you all right?” he asks, surprisingly alert for having just woken up so abruptly. “Can I get you something?”

  A new life, maybe? Because this one is sucking so bad right now.

  “No, I’m fine. Just accidently touched the knot on the back of my head. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Tyler checks his wrist watch, before run
ning his hands down his face, yawning. “It’s okay. I was scheduled to wake you up in ten minutes anyway.” Reaching across the counter, crowded by glass jars of cotton balls, tongue depressors and lollipops, Tyler grabs a clipboard. He glances at his watch again, jots down a note, and then picks up a small white tube that kind of looks like a pen but is thicker.

  “Can you tell me your name?” he asks, reaching out and gently holding open my eye as he flashes a small light from the pen looking thingy into it, before repeating the action in the other eye as well.

  My name? Seriously?

  “Way to make a girl feel special,” I huff, standing up, feeling both dizzy and like a total looser. Although, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t remember my name since I’m sure I was just another hook up for him. But still. Ouch.

  Tyler makes another quick note and then sets the clipboard aside with a chuckle. “You know, you have been one interesting patient, Emily.” Tyler guides me back down to the bed, and I feel my face flush with heat. He does know my name. And now he knows I care.

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, pulling my arms into the sleeves of the red hooded sweatshirt I’m wearing, which is at least three sizes too big for me and smells just like Tyler.

  I glance down at the sweat pants, which again, are too big to be mine and see the drawstring, pulled tight, is the only thing keeping them around my hips. “But how did I—” I pull open the neck of the oversized sweatshirt and peer inside. “Did you…dress me?”

  With wide eyes, I search the room and find my bathing suit lying in a heap on the linoleum floor. I cringe at the thought of Tyler having to dress me. So the opposite of the way we were undressing each other a night ago—or the way I imagined Tyler Ford seeing me naked for the first time. Ugh.

  “I…I didn’t dress you,” Tyler stammers, trying not to focus on me still holding the top of the sweatshirt open, but failing. “You were cold, so I got you some of my clothes and you dressed yourself. I swear.”

  Relieved, I drop the neckline and tuck my feet back under the covers as a foggy memory of me changing sweeps through my mind.