Cisco had his hard and fast limits.

He never trolled the internet or dating sites for women. Ever. He didn’t want any female getting the idea that he was looking for “the one”, which a profile might have them assuming. Nope. His preferred method of meeting his one-and-dones were always face to face; pick-ups where his agenda could be spelled out in person; no second guessing allowed. That way, there were no misunderstandings or hurt feelings when he tugged on his pants and skedaddled directly following a fuck.

But why was he thinking about fucking right now?

Uh, right. The woman who seemed oblivious to his charms was tweaking his libido.

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop thinking about her naked, and stood next to Hilly as they watched the kids file out. The second they were gone, the air once again filled with tension, and—if he had to put a name to it—disdain from his reluctant companion.

Which was beginning to bug the crap out of him.

What was this woman’s problem? Clearly, she had a stick-up-her-ass where he was concerned, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Sometimes, when an immediate coldness consumed someone he met, Cisco assumed it was because the caramel color of his skin wasn’t acceptable to the person giving him pissy vibes. But he’d noticed that at least half of Hilly’s counselors—whom he assumed she’d hired—had pigmentation as dark, if not darker, than his.

Puzzling.

But Cisco loved a challenge, and he determined then and there that his new favorite pastime would be getting Hilly to drop her sour demeanor. “So. What are you thinking?” he prodded. “Schedule-wise, that is.”

“Oh. Right.”

It looked like he’d pulled her head out of some deep hole, and briefly he wondered what might be in that yawning pit of angst. But when she turned to him with purpose and looked at him directly for the first time, he was immediately lost in her deep, sapphire blue eyes, and couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking.

“Why don’t we have a seat at one of the dining tables, and we can figure out your schedule.”

Right. Schedule.

No, actually. He’d been perseverating on her unusual aloofness.

She swiftly shifted her gaze from his as if sensing his scrutiny, and purposely shut him down. “Over here.”

Cisco bit back a grin, figuring he’d just scored some kind of point, and followed her to a table where they both pulled out chairs and sat.

Game on.

“So,” she coughed, “your chief said you’d be available two days each week for the duration of the summer. What hours are you thinking will work best for you?”

“I should tailor my schedule to yours,” Cisco told her diplomatically. “My PD shift is seven to three, Monday thru Friday.” He’d never get tired of saying that. It almost seemed like a dream. “I’m sure you have your daily agenda already figured out, so within those parameters, I’m all yours whenever and wherever you want me.”

Had his innocent question caused the slight blush that suddenly covered Ms. Hilly’s pretty freckled nose?

Yes! She wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended.

She ducked her pert proboscis under her red curls and reached for a folder that was lying on top of the table she’d led him to. “Here’s our camp schedule,” she told him, passing him a sheet off the top.

He perused the timetable as she went over it, her fluster subsiding as she got down to business.

“Seven-thirty AM is reveille. The campers have thirty minutes to brush their teeth, etc., until it’s time to meet at the dining hall for breakfast. After the tables are cleared, we have morning assembly where we discuss the activities of the day, then everyone participates in a craft of choice.

“We normally have three different stations set up with things that range from painting, to jewelry making, to a new offering this year, cooking.”

“Then I see there’s morning swim,” Cisco interjected as he followed along. “And after that, canoeing and kayaking.”

“Yeah. We tend to keep the getting-wet sports together,” Hilly confirmed, showing the first signs of animation as she spoke of her curriculum. “Then they all dry off and head back in for lunch at noon, after which they have a free hour to do whatever they please…within reason,” she added with a slight twitch upward of her top lip.

Cisco was seeing a way to get through Hilly’s barriers. She obviously ate, slept, and breathed her camp, so he had to keep his comments and insights in that realm. “That’s when they write letters home, and stare at the sky, daydreaming?”

“Or run around like banshees,” she said with a half-hearted grin. “A time for their minds and bodies to soar.”

Cisco felt that sharing might loosen her up even more. “I used to spend hours in my yard when I was a kid, staring at the clouds, finding all kinds of things. Animals, trucks, mountain ranges…”

“I used to see faces,” she offered back. “Friendly faces in all shapes and sizes.”

Huh. Were there not enough smiles in her young life that she had to make them up in the sky? That was a stretch on his part, but he could already tell that Hilly had a cautious way about her that spoke of being hurt sometime in the past.

She went on as if she hadn’t just revealed something about herself. “After free time, that’s when we have our physical challenges.”

“Such as…?” Cisco asked, letting her get away with the subject change. For now.

“We have archery, a ropes course, a climbing tower, gymnastics. This is the time slot, from one-thirty to two-thirty, where I see adding you in twice a week.”

Cisco saw the efficacy in that.

She was brainstorming now. “During nice weather, you can hold your classes in the open-air pavilion by the lake. And when it’s too cold or windy outside, we can clear an area in here for you. I don’t know how long your sessions normally last, but we have one hundred campers, and I was envisioning twenty-five for each of four, half-hour instruction periods.”

Cisco thought it over, and wasn’t sure he could fit everything he wanted to show and tell into thirty minutes. “Do you have another fitness session during the day? I could do two more, later on.”

“We do. One more, from five to six just before dinner,” she told him. “After their early afternoon physical challenge is complete, the kids go into the dining hall for drama club, followed by an afternoon swim if its nice out, or some kind of semi-indoor sport if it’s not. Next is snack break, and more crafts, then another sports session like they had earlier in the day, with the kids rotating through the various offerings. But you don’t have to do the extra classes,” she assured him.

“But I want to.” Cisco would have to clear it with Chief Ildavorg, but he didn’t think the man would have any problems with his impromptu offer. “What if I do two, one-hour sessions with twenty-five campers each day I’m here? Two, one-thirty to two-thirty classes, and two from five to six, Tuesday and Thursday. Would that work for you?”

Hilly scowled. “Well, I…um… That’s a generous offer of your time, but… With that commitment, what would you do with yourself to fill your time? Between sessions I mean,” she clarified.

Cisco tried not to let his excitement show over possibly being within Hilly’s sphere for several hours at a time. “Oh. I think I can keep myself occupied. I’ve never been a huge drama guy, but I love snacks,” he quipped. “And swim and sports outings sound like they could be a lot of fun.” What would Hilly look like in a bathing suit? “As for craft hour? I can paint a little, and I throw a mean, clay pot. But if you don’t have oils or a wheel, you could still probably use another set of hands to set up supplies, or clean up messes.” He attempted an innocent look.

Say yes. Say yes.

Cisco couldn’t figure out why it was suddenly so important that Hilly give him this. It must be that he hadn’t felt challenged by a woman’s indifference in… Well, ever, if he were honest.

He couldn’t recall a time where a female hadn’t been swayed by his natural charm, and he wasn’t about to have his winning streak halted now.

At least that’s what he told himself.

CHAPTER FOUR

Huh.

It was clear that Cisco didn’t recognize her.

Hilly didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. Not that she’d fill the man in on who she was…who she’d been. Nope. If he’d chosen to forget the chubby girl named Kay who’d dogged his footsteps throughout middle school, it was definitely for the best. She didn’t do hero-worship anymore.