"Mmm, I'm sure those problems start with an M and end with an N," she said, clicking her tongue. "Don't you worry yourself about him honey. Your father is over the high-flying moon that you're here. Mason just wants to make sure your dad doesn't get hurt. Those two have a bond like peanut butter and chocolate. It's always been that way. Mason came here our first year open, a sullen kid, pissed at the world that he had wound up in foster care. Your father took him under his wing and showed him he may have been dealt a man-sized bad deal, but he could man up and rise above it. By the time summer ended, there was no separating those two. You just give him time, he'll realize soon enough you're not here to hurt your dad," she said, shifting her load one last time before sauntering off.

Her words didn't have the reassuring effect on me that I know she was aiming for. Instead, I was hurt and jealous over the supposed bond my father shared with some belligerent guy who wasn't even blood related. I knew any outsider looking in would think I was a total bitch for feeling this way, and maybe I was, or maybe if Mason was halfway decent, I'd be more willing to accept it, but he was such a dick.

Sick of him once again dominating my thoughts, I moved on, opening the appropriate bin in the stockroom and pulling out five packages of white socks. There weren't any grocery bags around that I could find, so I stacked the slippery packages into my arms as best as I could, using my chin to try to keep them in place. As I headed back out into the hallway and through the dining hall, I was so intent on keeping the stack of socks from falling that I missed the obstacle coming through the door.

"Oof," I gasped, dropping the packages to the floor.

"Watch it, beach bunny," Mason said, bracing my upper arms with his hands to steady me before I could fall over.

"You watch it," I lashed back, trying to regain my footing. Why was it any time I was fumbling around like an idiot, he always managed to be around to see it. It was like I sent out some kind of incompetent radar signal or something. My traitorous heart betrayed me again, racing from our close proximity. I hated him. He ridiculed me, made me feel small, and yet, all I seemed to be able to do was think about how good he smelled. It should be against the law to be so freaking handsome and smell good at the same time. God could have at least cursed him with gross BO just to keep that ego in check.

His hands burned through the light long-sleeved shirt I was wearing. Glancing down, I was surprised he was still touching me. I looked back up at him, confused when his hands tightened their hold on my arms. His eyes were unreadable as he stared intently into mine.

"What?" I asked, confused about the feelings he was evoking inside me. My body seemed to have a mind of its own as I swayed closer to him.

His eyes darkened and moved to my lips that were inches from his own. My heart raced. Though it was completely crazy and utterly ridiculous, I wanted him to kiss me more than I had ever wanted to be kissed before. Our eyes met again and I felt drunk, trying to interpret what was happening.

"Nothing," he finally answered, abruptly letting go of me.

I stumbled into the doorframe, not realizing he had been practically holding me up. He looked like he was about to reach back out to help me, but thought better of it and stuffed his hands into his low slung jeans instead.

"Aren't you afraid you'll break a nail lifting those heavy packages?" he mocked, breaking the spell I had been under like a cold bucket of water being dropped on my head.

"Not as afraid as I am that those steroids you're on are shrinking that already small brain you’re sporting—among other things," I said saucily, trying to hide my hurt as I headed back out the door.

"Care to check, princess?" he chuckled behind me.

As much as I wanted to turn around and kick him where he had just invited me, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that I’m sure my flushed red face would provide.

"Aw, if only I hadn’t left my magnifying glass back in the cabin, so I’m going to have to say no," I answered cheekily, hurrying down the path before he could counter.

"What took so long?" Amy asked as she opened the door to let me in.

"One guess, and here's a hint, it starts with 'D' and ends with 'head.'" I said, tossing the packages of socks onto the bed. "I seriously don't know what his deal is," I added, slumping down on my bed.

"You need a hint?" she teased.

"You're wrong." Amy was convinced that he had the hots for me and was just acting like some schoolboy with a crush.

"Oh yeah, that would be so hard to believe because you’re not gorgeous or anything,” she teased. “I guarantee he’s thinking the same thing you are."

“And what am I thinking?” I asked.

“Uh, that you wanna jump his bones.”

"Please," I sputtered. "He's sooo not my type," I lied.

"So, you expect me to believe that broad-shouldered, blond-haired, blued-eyed Greek Adonis replicas aren't your type? Right, I believe you—NOT."

"I'm serious..." I started to continue until I realized our conversation was being greedily eaten up by the preteen campers in the cabin. "Oh great," I muttered as they all giggled. Amy burst out laughing.

"Not funny," I said, hitting her head with the pillow I clutched in my hand. How mortifying would it be for Mason to hear that I had the hots for him?

"Don't worry, Kimbe," Amy said, calling me by the newly-coined nickname she made up for me.

"Right, why should I worry, now that ten impressionable girls, who are all about swoonworthy stuff, think I have the hots for my half/step/foster whatever the hell he is, brother?" I hissed.

Amy laughed as I continued to fume. I debated hitting her with the pillow again, but knew it wouldn't have the effect I was aiming for.

Maybe she sensed how close I was to the edge because she raised her hands. "I'm serious, Kimbe, it's all good," she said, turning to the girls whose noise level had increased as they mooned over my supposed love life. "Girls, tell Kimbe what the rules of the cabin are."

A petite girl with sparkling brown eyes and mousy brown hair stepped forward, still giggling. "This is the circle of trust," she said in a high-pitched voice as she swept her arms out to indicate the other girls.

"Circle of trust, huh?" I questioned.

"Yeah, what happens in Raven, stays in Raven," Parker piped in, giggling again.

That’s a relief. The last thing I needed was for Mason to have one more thing he could hold over my head. He was arrogant enough as it was. If he thought I actually liked him, he'd be unbearable. Luckily, I hate him, I thought to myself. Sure you do, a small voice at the back of my head taunted me.

Chapter 6

The rest of the morning flew by with one activity after another. Rick began the day by covering the camp rules, like never venturing beyond the camp without a partner, staying within the confines of the camp once the sun set and no visiting the cabins of the opposite sex.

"The trails here are marked relatively well, except for the expert trails we have set up for the older campers’ survival classes. You have to be in your last year to take the two expert trails. I have this set up for your own safety. Got me guys?" he asked, looking at a group of teenage boys who were grumbling about not being babies. I heard one of them brag that he could do the hardest trail with his eyes closed.