Page 29 of Lady and the Camp
“A reset? From what?” He seemed less uncomfortable now, and his softened gaze appeared curious about my reason for being here.
Okay, so he didn’t know much. Lucas certainly didn’t seem the type to follow hysterical media sources, so likely thebillionaire dumps influencer after federal raidnews never reached his eyeballs. Or ears. Maybe he was a radio guy. He seemed pretty low-tech.
Which left me in control of filling in details. Perfect. And if I knew anything about controlling a narrative, at least as an online presence, staying as close to the truth as possible made for a much less stressful existence. Online personas were all about embellishing and highlighting. Glossing over the ugly but staying true to your core self. “See, I’m addicted to the internet and wanted to be somewhere without it.”
A lie, because I didn’t want to be here at all, but at least I couched the reason in real things.
“Addicted? How does that happen? Do you mean like online shopping, you buy too much?”
“No. More like being online in general. Too long, too much.” I waved a hand in the air. “Never mind. I only wanted to say I’m grateful to be here. It’s so…organic.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. That’s your angle. You have something here the slick camp across the lake doesn’t. A naturally organic lifestyle camp.”
He blinked at me.
“Just picture it.” I moved fully in front of him so he wouldn’t miss a word. “Companies right now are bending over backward to show how honest they are and how much integrity they have and how their products are natural or chemical-free or whatever fits. Your camp? This place is the most low-tech, home-grown experience I can think of for a modern kid.” I held up a hand and ticked each item off. “No cell phones. No Wi-Fi. Camp songs and sharing time around the campfire. Ancient bunk beds with initials carved into them. A cafeteria straight out of 1985. Don’t sleep on the nostalgia angle. You’re marketing to parents, not the kids themselves.”
His face scrunched. “Don’t sleep?”
I was too excited to explain. “Amy hates it here and would rather watch YouTube, but you know who doesn’t? Bianca. Her parents attended Camp Junebug and when she came herself as little Junebugger, she dreamed of the day she’d become a teen counselor. And now she is one, living her dream. She’s perfect for a customer profile. We should interview her. I could interview her. I could do it right now.”
I beamed at him. He reflected confusion. “How do you know any of this? You’ve been here two days.”
“Bianca told me all of that yesterday. And about the rival camp with the evil son who ripped Camp Junebug in half. Not that the halves are anywherenearequal.”
His mouth appeared to form several words but no sound emerged. Finally, he spoke. “I would take what Bianca says with a hefty grain of salt.”
“Maggie made necessary corrections.” I folded my arms. A few light bulbs flicked on in my brain. “Is this why you grumble around so much? You don’t really want to be running this camp, that’s clear, but here you are. Did you choose to stay to keep the dream alive?”
It was darn right poetic. And sweet. Very sweet, despite the hard set to his jaw. Speaking of, that jawline really was exquisite now that I could see it a little better. He’d trimmed the beard. He had sort of a younger-brother-to-Oscar-Isaac vibe happening that I wasn’t at all mad at.
He blinked again, a lot, maybe trying to eye-force a response into existence. Introverts must have it hard.
“Hey.” I laid a hand at his arm, an attempt at comfort. Bad move. His warm skin pulsed beneath my touch. It called for me to trail my fingers further in exploration. His breath hitched and I snapped my hand back. “I heard things have been difficult since the camp split. I don’t know details, but if I can help in any way, that’s what I’m suggesting. I’m good at social media. I can pitch your camp to the right target demographic—”
“No.”
Right. Too strong, too fast. “I have a Communications degree with a Psych minor.” I pulled out those credentials when I sensed people weren’t taking me seriously. It never worked with my family who viewed everything I did as a cute thing I’d grow out of, but outside of them, I had a decent success rate. Plus, that charm factor. “With a solid marketing plan, we could boost this camp’s enrollment—”
“I said no.”
No was the first step in a business negotiation. “I can help you. I have online marketing experience.”
He eased forward, his voice as firm as the sun-caked ground I stood on. “I don’t need your help.”
I would have let up, but something in his eyes hinted at conflicted emotions. “I don’t believe you.”
He laughed in one short burst. “You’ve been here less than forty-eight hours. Don’t assume you know how to run a camp just because you don’t like the brochure.”
“There’s a brochure? Because I’d like—”
“No.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—”
“Do the job you’re being paid for.” He abruptly turned and headed up the path toward the office.
“And what is that exactly?” I called after him. An actual job description would be nice. I could even help draft it to reel in these moving parts.
I was pretty sure I heard him growl. “Go find Maggie.”
