Summer Nights Page 22

  Ryan’s dark hair fell over his face as she giggled.

  “Oops.” Her hands roamed all over his body, and it wasn’t until he pushed her off him that he realized she’d undone several of his shirt buttons. “Oooh.” She smiled at the exposed skin. “Wow.” Her hands reached up to touch, but he easily caught them and gripped her wrists in his hands to halt her motion.

  “This is fun.” Zoey’s dry voice sounded from directly above him.

  He held in a groan and glanced up to her. “Would you help me?”

  Zoey’s eyes scanned them, and suddenly the anger was replaced with irritation and annoyance.

  He couldn’t hold in a chuckle when Zoey walked over and yanked Ryan off his lap and stood the other woman on her own feet.

  “Are you okay?” Zoey asked him as he stood and dusted himself off and began to rebutton his shirt.

  “Just bruised my pride.” He met her eyes.

  Ryan was rambling on about something and acting offended as she waved her arms around.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he told Zoey.

  “Yeah, I get that. Sorry for doubting you,” she mumbled as they turned toward Ryan, who hadn’t even righted her blouse.

  “When do you go on shift?” Zoey demanded.

  “It’s my day off.” Ryan smiled brightly, then turned toward him, all but ignoring Zoey. “I want to have some fun. I’ve earned it.” She started to move toward him again, but Zoey easily stepped between them, earning a frown from Ryan. “I wasn’t talking to you. Move. You’re in the way of what I want.” Ryan teetered on her low heels. “I know things . . . things that they should pay for.”

  Zoey gripped her arm lightly. “You’re fired. I’ll walk you back to gather your things, then have—”

  Ryan jerked her arm from Zoey. “You can’t fire me. I don’t work for you. I work for Isaac Andrew!” Ryan screamed.

  “Who works for me. I suggest you head back to your room and start to pack your things. I’ll have someone deliver you where you need to go, since you’re too inebriated . . .”

  Ryan’s laughter stopped Zoey from finishing.

  “Like I said, I know things. If you fire me”—Ryan leaned closer—“I’ll expose everything. Things he doesn’t want you or anyone else to know.”

  Dylan watched Zoey tense for a split second, then relax again. “Then we can sue. You signed a confidentiality agreement. Which includes guests and employees alike. If you spill, you’re in breach of contract. Dylan, can you call—” She didn’t make it any further, as Ryan jumped on Zoey’s back, yanking her hair backward as they went sailing through the air. Zoey landed on her hands and knees in the dirt, while Ryan sat on her back, pulling at Zoey’s hair.

  Two seconds. It took him only two seconds to have Ryan off Zoey. He held the drunk woman up in the air as her arms and legs kicked out toward Zoey, who was still kneeling on the ground.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, unsure what to do with the wildcat in his arms.

  “Yes,” Zoey ground out. “Get her out of here.”

  “Where?” Still holding the woman in midair, he briefly thought about dumping her in the nearest body of water to sober up. But fear of the woman not being able to swim had him rethinking that idea. After all, he didn’t want to have to jump in and save her.

  Zoey stood up and dusted off her pants and hands. He noticed a slight tear in her jeans and wondered if Ryan had irritated Zoey’s cuts from her run through the forest.

  “See if you can get her to go into the clinic until she sobers up. I don’t want her on the streets in her condition. After that she needs to leave.”

  “I’m not fired,” Ryan screamed over and over again. “I know things.”

  He half dragged, half carried her toward the building, while Zoey followed more slowly.

  “I know who you are.” Ryan dragged her feet in the dirt to slow them. “I’ll tell them.”

  “They already know,” he whispered and glanced back to make sure Zoey was doing okay.

  “They don’t know,” Ryan insisted. “They don’t know that you’re millionaires, each of you, and that you’re the heirs to a billion-dollar company!” The latter she shouted. He stilled and glanced back once more. Zoey’s steps faltered, but she continued to follow them.

  “They know.”

  “They don’t know that you’re here looking for your dad,” Ryan spat out.

  “We know, stupid,” Zoey hissed as she passed them. “Give it a break.”

  Ryan stopped in the middle of the trail; the force of her body stopping almost tipped him over. “I bet she doesn’t know you broke into her office?” Ryan crossed her arms over her chest, and he felt his entire body tense.

  Zoey stopped walking and turned back toward them. “We caught it all on the surveillance videos.” She turned back around and marched toward the main building.

  Hearing this, he forgot all about Ryan and rushed after Zoey.

  “Zoey,” he called out, but she didn’t stop until she was inside the back door of the main building. Then she turned on him.

  “You forgot your charge.” She pointed at Ryan, wobbling her way down the path toward the pool house. “Better go after her before she disturbs the guests.” Zoey disappeared down the hallway.

  As he chased after the drunk Ryan, he wondered if what Zoey had said was true. Did they already know about his breaking into their office? How long had she known? Before Vegas?

  He found Ryan at the pool bar. She’d just ordered a drink, but when she saw him approaching, she reached across the bar and grabbed a full bottle of tequila. Then, she started drinking directly from the bottle as the clear liquid ran in a thin stream from the speed-pourer spout.

  Britt, a bartender who was working behind the counter, tried to grab the bottle from Ryan but couldn’t reach her across the bar top. When Dylan reached her side, Ryan swung the bottle out as if it were a tennis racquet. The almost full container caught him on the side of the temple with a loud thump that had his ears ringing. He saw stars for a split second; then he was being pushed into a chair as his brother’s voice pierced through the loud buzzing that echoed in his head.

  He groaned, holding his head in his hands. “Damn it. Did she just bean me with a tequila bottle?”

  “Yeah.” Owen sighed. “You’re not cut, but there’s a large knot.” He handed Dylan a bag of ice. “Britt says to put this on it until Dr. Val can get here to check you out.”

  He blinked a few times. “Did I pass out?” He glanced around and realized everything had moved. People were no longer where they were when he’d been hit.

  Ryan was being held down into a chair by Britt, who was sitting on the skinnier woman.

  Dylan realized he was in a chair under an umbrella by the pool. Even though the sun was down, his eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the bright lights strung around the patio area. He shut his eyes to ease the throbbing in his head, but it didn’t really help.

  “No,” Owen answered. “You didn’t pass out—just kind of went dumb for a moment. But hey, what’s new?”

  He heard his brother chuckle.

  “Shut up,” he groaned. “Damn, she hit my temple.” He touched the spot and felt the growing bump.

  “What happened?” Owen asked. “Lovers’ quarrel?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” He groaned again. “She was drunk, had a run-in with me, and then Zoey showed up to help. After she attacked Zoey, she fired Ryan and told me to see her to the doc’s office. Then Ryan escaped and . . . boom, whacked me over the head.” He wanted to stop talking. Actually, he wanted everyone to stop talking, for all noise to cease.

  “Yeah, I saw that part.”

  Dylan realized that Owen had probably been working behind the bar as well. He and Liam had played bartender when needed. “Britt wants to call the police.”

  “What?” He sat up with a wince. “Why?”

  “Assault,” Owen said in a low tone.

  “No.” He started to shake his head, then stopped when t
hings started spinning and his vision grayed. “I won’t give her the attention she wants. I will not have her tied to our name and to the camp like that.” He pitched his voice to his brother’s low tone.

  “Yeah”—Owen sighed—“I convinced her not to call. It’s probably another one of her ploys to have her name in the papers.”

  “Another?” Dylan asked his brother.

  “Later,” he said. “Here comes the doc.” For the next half hour, he was pampered and watched over closely by the doctor, while Ryan was held in another room until she could be removed from the grounds with an appropriate blood alcohol content.

  Almost ten minutes after he’d settled down in the office to be watched over, Zoey rushed in.

  “I heard what happened.” She frowned down at him. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to drink tequila, not get beaned with it?”

  He faked a laugh and then held his head and moaned. Then he reached out his hand for her to come closer to him. She glanced down at his hand, then moved closer and took it easily.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you about searching your office,” he admitted.

  “Like I said, we knew.” She shrugged as she sat next to him on the examining table.

  He shook his head. “I don’t care. I should have told you what I was looking for . . . I should have told you everything after I kissed you that first time.” He reached up and brushed his thumb down the worry line in between her eyes. “Worried?”

  “About you?” She shook her head. “I knew you were too hardheaded. Not even a bottle of tequila could get through to you.” She touched his face softly and turned serious for a moment. “But yes,” she admitted. “You should have told me after Vegas. Let this be a lesson to you to not keep secrets from me.” She bent down and placed a soft kiss on his bruised head.

  He smiled and pulled her down into an embrace. “I only make mistakes once. I’m sorry.”

  The door opened, and he watched his brothers walk in. By the look on their faces, he knew he was in deep trouble. Still, he held on to Zoey in defiance. He no longer cared if they were on a mission. He knew in his heart that Zoey had had nothing to do with their father going off the rails and the disappearance of the money.

  He’d deal with his brothers later. For now, holding her was making his head feel better. It might have had something to do with the fact that all his blood was leaving his brain and heading to his groin. Whatever the reason, being next to her made him feel unlike anything else he’d ever experienced. And he wasn’t prepared to give that feeling up. Not even for his father.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Firing Ryan was the best thing Zoey had done all week long. She should have not worried about stepping on Brent’s or Isaac’s toes and gotten rid of the woman long ago. After all, both Hannah and Elle had complained about Ryan getting in their faces as well. What was the use of being boss if you couldn’t fire someone like Ryan?

  “She actually tried to blackmail Owen,” Hannah said. The three of them were standing around one of the first campfires the following night. The weather had been too warm those first weeks they’d been open to have one, but when the evening temperatures had dipped below seventy, Hannah had arranged for their first official s’mores cookout.

  By the overwhelming turnout, Zoey was calling it a huge success. Almost every guest, long term and short term, had huddled around the two firepits and enjoyed the gooey treats with containers of hot chocolate and Baileys Irish Cream.

  She was sipping her second cup at this point and had downed at least three s’mores, possibly four. She’d lost count, since she’d skipped dinner that night.

  “Blackmail?” Elle frowned. “Over what?” she asked as she took her burning marshmallow out of the flames and blew on it to put out the fire.

  “He didn’t tell me, exactly. I caught them arguing and asked what it was about. He was vague and . . .” Her friend’s face turned pink; even in the firelight, Zoey could see the brighter shade. “He changed the subject.” Hannah bit into her s’more.

  “What did he do? Kiss you until you stopped asking questions?” Zoey joked.

  When Hannah almost choked on the bit of graham cracker, Elle laughed. “He did!”

  “Remember, they’re looking for their father,” Zoey whispered. They were sitting around the larger fire, after most people had gone back to their cabins for the night. Now, it was just a handful of employees and a few of the guests left over.

  “Did you ask him later?” Zoey asked Hannah.

  “Of course.” Hannah sighed. “You know me, Mrs. Know It All.” She finished off the s’more.

  “And?” Elle asked.

  “He told me it was personal.” She frowned. “Every time I brought it up, he . . . distracted me. Have you seen the muscles on those men?”

  “Sucker,” Zoey said and giggled as Hannah stuck her tongue out at her.

  “Do you think . . .” Elle started. “At one point I had thought that Liam and Ryan were an item.”

  Hannah turned toward her. “For a while, I thought that about her and Owen as well.”

  The two of them looked at Zoey.

  “Nope. Dylan told me initially that she wasn’t his type.” She shrugged. The way her friends were eyeing her told her that they had more information than they were revealing. “What?” She set her stick down and drank the rest of her hot chocolate. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  The pair looked at one another; then Elle turned toward her.

  “Liam kissed me,” Elle admitted.

  “Owen kissed me too,” Hannah chimed in.

  “Oooo-kay,” Zoey said. “So?”

  “After you showed us the video of them sneaking around, well, we started spying on them.”

  “Well, yeah.” Zoey frowned. “I know—we agreed on who was going to watch whom. I got Dylan. Best choice, by the way.”

  “We think . . .” Elle glanced over at Hannah. “The two of us . . . that it’s their way to get us to stop following them. By putting the moves on us.”

  Hannah jumped in. “Either that or to get more information out of us.”

  “Do you know why? I mean, I get it—they’re looking for their father—but why here?” Elle asked.

  “They claim—”

  Just then something caught her eye. “Seriously? Here?” She nodded to the couple just outside the fire’s light.

  Elle sighed. “The Youngs again?”

  “Don’t they ever give it a break?” Hannah whispered.

  “What do we do?” Zoey said quietly. “I mean, she’s bouncing up and down on his lap.”

  Elle giggled. “Say, Excuse me, can you stop banging in public?”

  Hannah snorted and then covered her mouth. The sound caused both Elle and Zoey to turn toward her.

  “What was that?” Elle laughed.

  “What?” Hannah sighed.

  “You just snort laughed,” Zoey said. “You haven’t done that since—”

  “Ever,” Elle finished.

  “No.” Zoey shook her head. “She did it once, when . . .” Her eyes narrowed as she remembered the one time Hannah’s prim-exterior bubble had been burst. When they’d sat around the campfire their senior year and talked about how they had each lost their virginity. “You’ve had sex.”

  “What?” Elle gasped and turned to Hannah, the couple going at it a few feet away in the dark fading for all of them. “Is it true?”

  “No.” Hannah shook her head. “Not sex. Just . . . kissing.”

  “With Owen?” Zoey asked.

  “Yeah. Whatever else they’re looking for here, they’re willing to go the distance.” Her friend smiled.

  “Hannah!” Elle gasped.

  “Not . . . that distance,” she added, her face turning pink again. “I mean, I don’t think he’d sleep with me just to . . . you know. He’s not a spy. I mean, if they do that—not that I know.” Her friend was blushing profusely now, her normally perfect skin burning even with the glow of the fire.

/>   Hannah turned toward her. “You’ve slept with Dylan. Do you think it had anything to do with why they’ve been sneaking around?”

  “No,” Zoey answered quickly. “Nothing to do with it.” She knew with everything in her that it was the truth. “Ryan claimed that they’re millionaires. The searches I’ve done didn’t say anything specific about their net worth—the three brothers. I mean, sure, the family business is pretty significant, but . . . Dylan, Owen, and Liam millionaires?”

  “Then”—Elle set down her mug—“why are they working here? It can’t just be because they are looking for their father. How many places could a grown man hide around here? And who is their father, anyway?”

  “Remember?” Zoey asked, then related what Dylan had told her about his father’s meeting with Elle. “You should know. You were supposedly having a meeting with him.”

  She was sure her friends had done as much homework on the brothers as she had, but she didn’t know if Elle had been a part of that research. Then again, she’d forgotten how busy Elle was around the camp. Whatever Zoey’s work schedule had been, Elle’s had been easily double that.

  “I . . .” Her friend balked and then bit her bottom lip, like she always did when she was thinking; then her eyes grew large. “Costa.” She sighed and rubbed her head. “Leo Costa. I never thought . . . I didn’t put it together . . .” Elle slightly tugged on her hair. “Shit,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Okay,” Hannah said. “Care to let us in on the big secret?”

  Elle turned to them. “Uncle Leo.”

  “He’s your uncle?” Zoey asked.

  “No.” Elle shook her head. “Not really, just . . . it’s what I’ve always called him. I never really thought about his last name. Besides, I’d only heard it once before.”

  “You know Dylan’s father?” Zoey finally asked.

  “Yes.” Elle nodded. “I’ve known him all my life.” She shocked them by standing up. “I . . . have to go. We’ll talk later.” She started to rush off.

  “Nope!” Zoey said, her voice echoing across the grounds. “What’s going on?”