Celeste flew down the path to the main building, almost knocking over two of the sous-chefs wheeling a towering pink-frosted cake toward one of the guesthouses.
“Hey, Celeste!” one of them called after her, but she didn’t turn around.
What was he thinking? she wondered as her deck shoes pounded the red sandstone. Now Travis would be fired and go back to the beach and she’d see him twice all summer! Or Travis would be fired and her dad would sue him for the golf cart money and he wouldn’t be able to pay it, so he’d have to go to jail instead of Arizona, and she’d still never see him. Or…
Celeste skidded around the corner of the kitchen off the main building. Travis lay peacefully under the big tree, his arms stretched over his head and the cool green light from the leaves flickering over his face.
“Travis!” Celeste hissed as loud as she could. “Wake up!”
He opened his eyes slowly and smiled dreamily. “Celeste,” he mumbled. “You’re here. I was having a dream…. You were there. You were wearing this red silky thing…and cowboy boots.” He propped himself on his elbows. From behind her, Celeste heard the kitchen door bang.
“Get up, get up, get up!” she whispered frantically, tugging at Travis’s hand. “My dad!”
His eyes snapped open like window shades and he scrambled to his feet. “Your dad?” he said, whipping his head around. “Where?”
“Here, now!” Celeste thrust the discarded weed-whacker into his hand and pressed the start button just as she heard her father’s voice from behind her.
“Travis, I was just looking for you.”
Celeste turned around. Travis was industriously whacking the grass around her feet. He straightened up, wiping his forehead as if he’d spent the last half hour trimming every blade of grass at Pinyon.
“Hi, Dad,” Celeste said, wondering how her voice could sound so calm when her heart was still throwing itself wildly against the inside of her rib cage, like some sort of crazed hamster.
“Hey, Mr. Tippen,” Travis said, breathing heavily.
“Hello, Travis,” Celeste’s father answered, eyeing Travis’s grass-stained work boots and tucked-in polo shirt. He gave a tiny nod of approval that only Celeste caught. She smiled to herself.
“I wanted to give you this.” Mr. Tippen extended a piece of paper. “I had Jeannette draw up a record of how many hours you’ve logged so far toward your debt.”
“Cool. Thanks, Mr. Tippen.” Travis folded up the paper into a tiny square and stuck it in his pocket. Dad frowned faintly.
“Are you going back to the office, Dad?” Celeste asked. He glanced down at the stack of papers in his hand.
“Yes, I just came out to see how you were doing. I have a meeting with Solomon about the menu for the month—we’re switching over some of the entrees. Fresh fish has gone up exorbitantly at the market.”
“I’ll walk with you,” she offered. She waved to Travis and started heading down the path with her father.
As they strolled, Celeste cast a sideways glance at her father from under her eyelashes. “So, Travis hasn’t worked off the golf cart yet?” she asked after a minute.
Her father snorted. “He’s got a ways to go on that one. If I were making him pay us in money instead of labor, it would take a lot longer than three months for him to earn enough.” Then his tone softened as he put his arm around his daughter. “I have to admit, though, he’s been a good worker. Dave says he’s really taken to mowing, even in this heat.” Her father glanced at her. “Maybe I’ve been a little hard about him in the past.”
Celeste laughed. “A little? Maybe if you’re Genghis Khan. He really is a good guy, Daddy. I’ve been trying to tell you that all year.”
Her father smiled and kissed her on the top of her head. “Well, we’ll see. The summer’s not over yet.” He swung the glass door to the main building open and disappeared inside. Celeste watched him go, and when the door had swung safely shut, she doubled back to the big tree. Travis was attacking the tall grass by the kitchen door with his back to her. She crept up behind him and smacked his butt.
“Hey!” He whirled around.
“Don’t turn the weed-whacker off,” she said quickly. “Dad’s still inside. But do you want to go for a swim tonight?” she asked. The engine noise and the odor from the kitchen Dumpster were making it hard to be seductive, but she was doing her best.
A grin split Travis’s face. “Do you even need to ask?”
“Okay. Meet me at midnight at the pool gate. It’ll be totally empty at that hour.”
Just then Celeste’s phone buzzed again. She glanced at it. Nick.
Playfully, Travis craned his head. “Who’s calling, your boyfriend?” he teased. Thank God he couldn’t see the screen.
“Oh yeah, right!” Celeste said quickly. She forced an idiotic little giggle. Travis gave her a strange look but leaned down and kissed her quickly.
“See you tonight.”
Celeste felt good when she showed up at the pool gate that night, wearing her new H&M bikini under a loose cotton beach dress. She deserved a little fun after her day of insanity. But she could see Travis was in a rotten mood the minute he walked up. He grunted in response to her greeting, without kissing her, and then when went straight to the pool and dove in. Celeste followed. The icy blue water felt fantastic against her dusty, hot skin.
She paddled over to the side, where Travis was resting his arms on the pool edge and gazing moodily out at the road, a sliver of which was just visible beyond the main gate. Celeste swam up behind him and softly ran her hand over the hard muscles in his back and shoulders. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shook off her hand. “Nothing—I’m fine.” Almost angrily, he stroked to the other side of the pool. Celeste swam back and forth a little and then paddled over to the steps. She climbed up on the first one and sat down, looping her arms over her knees.
Travis turned around. “Look, it’s just that Kevin told me today that the surf instructors at the beach are all hosting Derek Rodham next week.”
Celeste must have looked blank because he burst out, “He’s like the biggest surfer on the West Coast! They get to surf with him and take a class. And I’m missing it because I’m stuck here in the desert!” He struck the water with his fist.
“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Celeste said softly. To herself, she thought that Travis should just man up. It was his stupid prank that had gotten him here anyway. And besides, wasn’t he glad that she was here? “Anyway,” she said, pushing off the step and swimming over to him, “let’s forget about that. Give me a ride!” She jumped on his back.
At first, he didn’t move. Then he grabbed her arms, held them around his neck, and dove under the water. He swam the entire length of the pool and then, just when Celeste thought she was going to choke, he surfaced. Spluttering, she gasped a lungful of air. “That was so long!” she said, flipping around so she could face him.
He smiled grudgingly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, while he backed up against the pool wall. “Don’t think about any of that stuff right now,” she said softly, touching his cool lips with her mouth. He closed his eyes and nodded, running his hands up her wet arms. He slid them down her back and she pressed herself more tightly against him. His mouth pressed more firmly on hers and she shivered as the warm night breeze played over her shoulders.
“You’re right,” he said, drawing back after a long moment. “You’re here, I’m here. I don’t care about anything else.” His breath tickled her cheek.
“That’s right,” Celeste whispered. “Nothing else matters.”