Since that time, twenty-one years ago, Hilly had come a long way, and although Cisco’s presence had thrown her for a moment—with scenes of her younger years momentarily flashing through her head—she could let the past go and pretend they were strangers. Which, if he’d remembered her, would have been impossible.
Back then, when they’d traversed the same hallways, her name had been Kay Smittfield, the Kay being short for Kayhill, and the last name being the one with which she’d been blessed by her prick of a sperm donor. When, in sixth grade, her mother had finally kicked the asshole to the curb, then two years later married her current hubby, Jenson Duncan, Kay had gladly changed her first name to Hilly. And with her new Papa Jenson’s blessing, she’d swapped her last name for his.
She’d never looked back.
After all the negativity with which she’d grown up, Hilly had finally gained a mother who was happy and loved, and a step-father who adored them both. There was no need for Hilly to revisit her painful youth.
Been there. Done that. And it sucked ass.
She got her head back in the moment and replayed Cisco’s offer.
“You want to help out between self-defense lessons,” Hilly stated, still not sure if she’d heard Cisco correctly. The sports-oriented, chick-magnet she remembered wasn’t the kind of guy who filled his days with busy-work. And hell. She was damned sure he wouldn’t know gimp from gesso.
“Why not?” he shrugged. “I’ve been out of touch with the creative side of myself as an adult, but I’m assuming that the more warm bodies you have to help with your craft stuff, the better. Even if I’m not a master of the fine arts.”
What could Hilly say? Cisco was correct. The more input her campers had, the more nurturing instructors cheering them on, the better their experience would be. She simply needed to keep an open mind. If she could change as much as she had over the past two decades, then it was only fair to give Cisco the benefit of the doubt that maybe he’d done the same.
Of course, at the first inkling the man was still an arrogant player, she’d kick his ass out of her camp so fast his bike tires wouldn’t find traction, then she’d ask Chief Ildavorg to recommend someone else. For now, however, she didn’t want to look ungrateful for Cisco’s presence as their hand-to-hand instructor, or for his offer to chip in elsewhere.
She sucked up her pride, and gave him a phony smile. “I’m sure the kids will love to have you hanging around between sessions and helping to mentor them.” Hilly eyeballed the man’s large impressive form, trying to ignore the breadth of his shoulders and his thick, curly hair while she formed her next question. “How much do you actually know about our camp?”
He shrugged, but in a fill-me-in kind of way, not in a “duh” manner. “Very little. I gleaned from my chief that you’re operational from now through the end of August, and you’ve told me how many campers you have, and what your daily schedule looks like. That’s the extent of my knowledge.”
“Let’s take a walk around camp, then,” Hilly said, getting up from her chair. “You can familiarize yourself with the place while I fill you in on a few of our particulars.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Cisco replied, following suit to rise, but scooting around her. He beat her to the door, which he politely held open.
Hilly secretly rolled her eyes, but held her tongue. If Cisco wanted to knock himself out to look like a gentleman, she wouldn’t stop him.
She walked a few steps out into the bright sunlight. “Have you ever attended a camp, Mr. Andera?”
“Cisco. Please,” he responded with a breathtaking smile.
Hilly gritted her teeth. “Cisco,” she agreed with a nod as they walked. If she was going to get along with him, she might as well make an effort to be civil.
“And the answer is yes. I went to Kick-Starters Soccer Camp for two years during high school,” he offered, then his mouth turned up into a devastatingly adorable, crooked grin that had one dimple popping out on his cheek.
Right. Because the man needed something else that made him even hotter than he already was.
“The place I went didn’t have crafts or drama, though,” he continued. “Swimming and boating were big, as well as running trails, doing drills, and, by the name of the camp, you can imagine we played a lot of soccer.”
Of course that’s the kind of camp he would have gone to, Hilly huffed internally. He’d been all about his physical prowess in his younger years, and had relished in sport-guy-stuff. The man had probably never read a book in his life.
“Well, here we’re a little different,” she warned.
Maybe when she blew his mind about the type of kids they sponsored, he’d find an excuse to move on. Which, she told herself, would suit her purposes just fine. Maybe someone a little more geeky would fit the bill, better. “Our campers are here so we can attempt to boost their self-esteem.”
He didn’t respond, just tipped his head thoughtfully, so Hilly kept going.
“They’re middle-school-aged kids who’ve all been subjected to various kinds of bullying. They come here not only to find a safe haven, but hopefully to discover the best of themselves; a confidence they can then take back with them into the real world.”
“Bullying’s rough,” Cisco responded. Not with the patronizing tone she’d expected, but with actual concern in his voice. Maybe he’d become an empathetic individual, at least outwardly, after having had to deal with the public at large for his job. “How do you find the kids who need you?” he asked.
She launched back in. He’d asked, so he’d get an earful.
“They’ve been recommended to us by their teachers and guidance counselors as kids who’ve been subjected to all kinds of ridicule from their peers. I read their profiles, then meet with each of them along with their parents or guardians, attempting to glean what they expect to get from our camp, and whether we’ll be a fit for their needs. I don’t talk down to them, or judge, but when making my decisions, I’m realistic enough to know we can’t be all things to all kids. Which means I vet them thoroughly before accepting them into our program.”
Admitting the camp wasn’t for everyone who was bullied, was tough. “We’re unfortunately not equipped right now to deal with children who suffer from mental illness, although someday I hope to offer shorter programs and trained staff for those kinds of kids in need. The campers who do end up here are the periphery ones who are struggling to find themselves and their place in the world. We’re trying to give that to them.”
“Admirable,” Cisco grunted, looking like his mind was churning. “I’m glad you told me. Now I can tailor my self-defense courses around building self-awareness, as well as for protective purposes.”
Hilly swallowed, knowing Cisco had passed her first test. The carefree youngster she’d known, who’d probably noticed that bullying existed, but with the exception of a few times, ignored it, had clearly grown up to be more thoughtful. “Exactly what I’d hope your courses would do,” she told him honestly, then cleared her throat. She didn’t need to start thinking good things about Cisco—sports-god—Andera.
“Let’s get on with the tour, shall we?” she grumbled.
“Lead the way,” he answered genially, but she hadn’t missed the confused look he sent her way at her returned sourness.
Hilly tried to mitigate her pissy mood, knowing he was perplexed by it. “As you probably noticed, the structure we just left is not only our dining hall, but the place where we hold meetings, have craft time, and where the kids put on shows, writing and directing the things they star in.”
Cisco snorted. “I might have to sit in on some of those sessions,” he chuckled. “I’ve never been much of an actor or a writer.”
“Don’t let the kids hear you say that,” Hilly grunted, not liking that this modest side of Cisco was charming. “You’ll find yourself in a wig, spouting soliloquies if they think they can con you into it.”
“They’d dare do that?”
Hilly let a bit of a real smile peek out. “Don’t let their bullied status fool you,” she told him. “Most of these kids have extremely high IQs, and when they feel comfortable in their environment, they’ll use their brains not only for good, but for the most devious kinds of evil.”
Cisco grinned. “Now that I can relate to. I remember a few pranks I participated in when I was at camp.”
Probably “pants-ing” the nerds, or giving “swirlies” in the boys’ toilets, but Hilly didn’t ask him to elaborate on his misdeeds. She was trying to see him as an uninteresting adult, not the clueless golden-boy she’d crushed on from afar.
She walked him toward her cabin and gestured. “This is where I live and maintain an office during the season. It’s pretty much just a place to sleep and do paperwork, as I spend most of my time helping out and supervising around camp.”
He nodded, taking everything in.
“The big structure next to my cabin is our equipment barn. It houses all our boats, floats, and sports paraphernalia.”
He moved away to take a quick gander in through the large, open doors, then his footsteps carried him around to the long side of the barn.
“What are the closed wooden doors here where windows ought to be?”
Right. That was a task that remained on her agenda for later in the day. “It’s a separate part of the bigger building that houses our camp store, or commissary. It’s still closed up, but we’ll be airing it out this afternoon and doing inventory to see if critters have done damage to our souvenirs over the winter. We don’t keep food in there off-season. Fresh candy and snacks will be delivered early Monday morning so we can offer the kids items that aren’t available in the dining hall.”
“Got it.”
Cisco then turned his attention to the picnic tables that had already—with help from her counselors earlier—been taken from the barn and placed all around the area. “This is a nice cool spot under the trees.”
“Right,” she agreed. “And if you look over there…” she turned him toward the lake then walked him to another structure that sat twenty feet back from the beach. She’d had the open-air edifice built just last fall, and was proud of it. “This is our new outdoor arena where our campers can play when the weather is bad and they don’t want to be sequestered inside.”
