Present Day

Penny Hastings twirled in a circle, her head thrown back and her face tilted toward the cerulean sky with puffy white clouds floating above her. Laughter burst from her chest in an explosion of joy. Like a kid, she whirled until she was too dizzy to keep turning. “I’m baaackk.”

Seventeen years since she’d been a camper at Camp Firefly Falls, and now happy memories flooded her.

This place was the scene of the best times of her young adolescence, and her heart overflowed with delight as her gaze touched on landmarks, the lake, the boathouse, the dock, the cabins, each spurring their own vignette of happiness.

A lot had changed.

Penny staggered over to the nearest tree and leaned against the trunk, waiting for the world to stop spinning. She might have lain down in the grass but since she hadn’t yet checked in with her pal, Meg, or the owners of the newly renovated summer camp, Michael and Heather Tully, she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with grass in her hair and dirt on her face.

Her gaze slipped to the large oak and the bumpy rutted staff parking lot mostly hidden by a row of bushes. And for a moment her happiness dimmed.

There was one memory that wasn’t good, and yet, that night had changed her life.

She shoved away from the massive old oak tree and grabbed her simple canvas duffel from the back of her car. Most of the time she tooled around in her battered Ford F250 pickup. The ’69 Charger was her pride and joy but she didn’t get many chances to drive her.

Another souvenir from the memories of her first year at camp. That confrontation between her and Counselor Diego had impacted her in ways she’d never have foreseen when she’d been young, immature, and spoiled. Her only regret was that she’d never had the chance to tell him how he’d changed her perspective on the world.

Shaking off the odd memories, Penny headed down a path lined with cheerful wild azaleas to the beautifully restored Pinecone lodge. What a great job the Tullys had done.

Penny dropped her duffel on the porch. She couldn’t remember if she’d spruced up before she left the farm this afternoon. Working in the dirt most days she barely slathered on moisturizer and sunscreen. If she was feeling particularly fancy she’d slick some Burt’s Bees on her lips.

Penny did a quick inventory, took out her ponytail and threaded her fingers through her too-long hair—she really needed to get it cut again—then twisted it back up into a haphazard bun. She rubbed her palms together, checked for dirt under her fingernails—hazard of her life— and brushed her fingers over her cheeks and underneath her eyes and over her brows hoping that she didn’t have any mascara smudges.

As ready as she’d ever be, Penny took a deep breath, let out it out, then knocked on the front door.

The large wood-paneled door flung open. “Penny!” Meg squealed and dragged her inside the lodge.

Penny laughed, thrilled to see Meg again. She was the one who’d gotten her this gig at Camp Firefly Falls.

“Oh my gosh, it’s good to see you,” Meg said. Penny and Meg both worked seven day weeks and they lived hours apart so they rarely got to see each other in person.

“I’m so sorry about the restaurant.” Meg’s restaurant had burned down. She was going to rebuild but since she had no place to cook right now, she’d agreed to come back to camp this summer.

“Thanks.” A shadow fell over Meg’s features, and she tilted her head forward, her curly brown hair hiding her features. Her bold vibrant personality dimmed for a moment. Then Meg slung her arm over Penny’s shoulder, her wide smile once again brassy and welcoming. “How are you?”

“Excited to get started.” Penny had conceived of FEED Together, the small garden and farming opportunity for corporations, as her senior thesis at UMass Amherst. Pretty Penny Farms, her small woman owned farm was finally doing well enough that she could devote some time to the philanthropic and therapeutic program that had been haunting her for a long time.

Penny planned to consult with businesses about installing small gardens on their rooftops or courtyard areas and having their employees take care of the gardens. The employees would get outside, commune with nature, and grow food—either for company consumption or as donations to local food banks.

When she and Meg had initially discussed her thesis, Penny hadn’t figured a way to get the word out about the semi-radical proposal.

Then Meg had the idea to approach her bosses at Camp Firefly Falls to see if they would be open to Penny presenting her idea at one of the corporate retreats scheduled this summer.

Her program had a lot of potential. The nonprofit charter would hopefully be a win for both companies and food charities. This weekend was a test run to refine her sales pitch, and gauge how to sell the philanthropic idea to companies. She needed financial participation by the companies in order to get the idea off the ground. If she could secure some initial commitments, she could prove the concept would work.

So here Penny was. She was helping the Tullys with the corporate retreat this weekend, and in exchange, Penny got to pitch her nonprofit idea to the companies attending the retreat and set up her first garden for Camp Firefly Falls. Her thesis idea was one step closer to becoming a reality.

The scent of something burning caught Penny’s attention. “Um, Meg?”

“Crap! I left the onions sauteeing.” Meg ran.

Penny followed her friend toward the kitchen. “Let’s just throw in a frozen pizza,” she said as Meg waved the smoke from the burned onions.

At the momentary sadness on Meg’s face, Penny attempted to divert her. “Are Michael and Heather here?”

“They’ll be back tonight or early tomorrow before the campers arrive to check in.”

“What time is check in?”

“Starts at two,” Meg said. “First bus will get here about then.”

Penny laughed. “Bus?”

“Yep. The retro camp experience.”

“That’s great.”

“There are always a few campers who are too busy or too ‘important,’” Meg put air quotes around the word, “to take the bus, but most of the campers embrace the experience.”

“It’s a shame they aren’t grateful for the chance to reconnect with nature.” Penny hadn’t stopped smiling since she got here.

“Yeah, well what are you going to do,” Meg said. “Sometimes we resist that kick in the butt.”

“Their loss.” Penny didn’t waste any more time thinking about reluctant campers. “Show me where we’re going to set up the gardens.”

* * *

It was so fucking dark up here.

The night sky was liberally sprinkled with stars but that light didn’t lend much visibility here on the ground. In the woods there were no street lights, no street signs. He was tired, cranky, and if Zinnia, his pain in the ass assistant and cousin, was here right now, he’d personally cut her salary.

Diego creatively cursed his cousin, his late departure, and the world in general.

He didn’t want to be here.

His 2007 Porsche Carrera GT really didn’t want to be here. At the rate he was bumping over the uneven ground, his suspension was going to need a realignment tomorrow.

The camp held nothing but bad memories. Except…his recall of the little girl who’d had a profound impact on the course of his life was complicated. Regret and gratitude all rolled together.

Some days he wondered if he would be where he was if it wasn’t for little Penelope Hastings and her blind optimism. Which was why he hadn’t blasted Zinnia after she booked this retreat.

Finally, Diego arrived in the clearing. The deserted clearing.

There were only two cars in the matted down grass and gravel parking lot. Then he remembered—this was the employee parking lot. There was probably a separate one for guests.

Diego pulled up next to a sweet, perfectly restored Charger. He got out of the silver metallic Porsche, ignored the empty camp and instead bent to peer at the leftover remnant of his youth. The car was an exact replica of his very first car. The one he’d lovingly restored. The impetus for one of the worst moments of his life.

The paint job was perfect, the Bright Blue Poly an original color. She also had a white racing stripe with a hint of metallic sparkle in the paint.

God, he’d loved that damn car.

In the distance the faint sound of music drifted on the still summer evening. Fireflies buzzed in the thin woods. He spied the path to the main lodge.

He tried to dredge the camp check-in details from his brain. But he’d mostly tuned Zinnia out when she’d been admonishing him not to be late.

He was late.

It wasn’t exactly his fault. He’d gotten caught up in contract negotiations with his company’s lawyer, and Jeffrey London, the CEO of London Automotive. They were in talks to merge London Automotive with Ramos’s Classic Auto Restoration. Diego was on the brink of the culmination of twenty years of planning and ambition.

To Diego’s delight, the Billionaire Breakfast Club was about to indoctrinate another member.

And he couldn’t wait.

Merging was a solid business decision. Ramos’s Classic Auto Restoration had gotten big. They were all working extra hard. If they merged, the company would be bigger but there’d be more people for work distribution. London’s business dovetailed well with Diego’s. Their combined company would seriously increase his net worth.

But as Diego cast one last longing look at that Charger, he realized he hadn’t geeked out and wrenched on a car in…he couldn’t even remember.

He sighed.

Tinkering with a classic car wouldn’t increase his bottom line, and a gearhead wouldn’t get bigger and better in a coverall with grease under his fingernails.

He grabbed the leather suitcase from the passenger seat and headed toward the registration tent through the trees. A circular driveway was empty. The canvas structure in the middle of a grassy expanse inside the circle held a 6 x 2 foldup table and a plastic green file box closed tight. A single Papermate pen rested in the crevice between the file box and the table surface.

That was it.

He pulled out his cell phone so he could call Zin.

No service.

Diego sighed. The main lodge was down the path not too far in the distance. He’d check in there.

The single porch light cast a warm yellow glow over the painted wooden balustrade. As he walked toward the light, he searched the shadows and realized the camp seemed awfully empty and quiet.

The ground was slightly squishy. It must have rained up here sometime this week. He grimaced when he thought about the mud clinging to his Italian loafers and dampening the bottom of his silk trousers.

Diego strode up to the lodge. Muted laughter and music came through the open window. He rang the doorbell.

“Coming!”

Within in seconds, the door flew open and a woman tumbled out.

Rich auburn hair framed her sun-kissed classic bone structure. She had tanned cheeks with a smattering of freckles across her nose, a lush full mouth, and remarkable bright green eyes, the exact shade of classic Charger Rallye Green. She sparkled with amusement and happiness and an inner glow. She held a tumbler of white wine in long elegant fingers with short unpainted nails.

“Oh, hello.” She straightened her plump lips, trying to contain the laughter that had graced her features when she’d opened the door.

Diego frowned. She looked…familiar. Except not. He had an excellent facility for remembering faces. That skill had served him well in business. He ran her features through his memory banks. She was there, just out of reach. As if he should know her.

Except for that single light, the porch was bathed in darkness.

“Ah, can I help you?” She fiddled with the tail of a man’s plaid shirt over her camisole. The thin white cotton revealed small breasts with an intriguing shadow in the valley between them. Her faded loose jeans with holes in the knees were rolled up to reveal delicate ankles and toenails painted a surprising bright neon green.

Like a wolf, his body was instinctively attuned to her. Her features tripped some switch inside him, primitive and needy. His brain stuttered on those bright toes, thinking about how he’d like to start at the arch of her foot and spend hours discovering the secret hollows and erogenous places on her body, just like he learned each nook and cranny and idiosyncrasy of a 5.7-liter HEMI V-8.

“I’m here for the camp,” he blurted out when he realized he’d been quiet for far too long.

“Okay.” In the background, Third Eye Blind’s 90s hit “Semi-Charmed Life” played. The furniture in the living area had been pushed back against the walls. A coffee table was littered with two empty plates and a mostly empty bottle of wine.

“Penny. Did I hear the doorbell?” Another woman, brown curly hair and generous curves, skidded into the room. “Can we help you?”

“I’m here for the camp,” he said again clearly, but he finally clued in to the fact that no one else was here. Just these two women.

Diego was still in his suit and tie, the offending silk noose now strangling him.

The woman who answered the door blinked. “The one that starts tomorrow?” Now she was hastily trying to shove her hair into the knot at the top of her head.

“Tomorrow,” he said flatly.

Diego pulled his phone from his pocket. His lifeline. Everything was on the state of the art smartphone. He accessed his calendar. No. “According to my calendar, it was supposed to start today.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Dammit.” He was going to kill Zinnia.

The redhead straightened, the smile disappearing from her face. “Excuse me?”

“Not you.” Diego had figured out what happened. Zin made sure he was here before camp started by giving him the wrong date. “My assistant.”

He punched the button on the phone and returned it to his pocket.

“She entered the date incorrectly?”

He twisted his wrist, stared at the roman numerals on his watch, and blinked at the time. It was after ten at night. No wonder they hadn’t been expecting him.

“More like an end run,” he muttered. “What time tomorrow?”

“Two,” the curvy brunette said.

Diego sighed. He was tired. He’d started his day at five a.m. and had been running ever since. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw and sighed. “I’ll be back.”

“You can’t leave now.” The redhead propped one foot on top of the other and leaned against the door frame. “Briarsted doesn’t have any hotels. There’s no place to stay nearby. Right, Meg?”

Diego certainly wasn’t sleeping in his car. Those days were long over. He propped his fists on his hips, and his stomach growled. Loudly.

The grinding in his stomach that was near constant these days ramped up its slow attack on his body. Stress and hunger were not a good combo.

“There’s got to be an empty room in the lodge,” Penny, the auburn-haired goddess, said to the other woman. “Right?”

“Let me just turn off the music.”

“Clearly, I’ve interrupted your…evening,” Diego said politely. “I’ll let you go.”

At the same time, Penny said, “We were just dancing.”

His gaze skimmed between the two very attractive women. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Oh! No, we’re not.” Penny laughed, a light trill of sound, as her eyes twinkled with a mirth. Something about that laugh triggered another flare of lust deep in his belly. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“He certainly is,” Meg said under her breath, but Diego heard her.

Okay. Not lovers then.

Lover. The word conjured hot nights, liquid sighs, fevered kisses…and oddly the woman who’d answered the door.

He didn’t have time for a lover. But damn if his mind didn’t zoom right back to the redhead when he realized the two women were only friends.

“Come on in and we’ll figure out a place for you to sleep.” The brunette shoved out her hand. “I’m Meg, the camp chef, and this is Penny. She’s going to be running a corporate farm team-building experiment.”

Diego tried to keep the grimace from his face but he must have failed because the chef laughed.

“It will be fun,” Penny said defensively. “I promise.”

Her gaze skimmed his silk suit, pressed shirt, and Italian tie. “Although hopefully you’ve got something more casual in that bag. Farming, and camping, are messy.”

Her smile was wide, and her white straight teeth bit into her unpainted lip.

Meg said, “I can’t check you in, no idea how that works. Let me show you a room where you can crash, Mr.…?”

He was more addled than he thought. Combo of a long day and the intriguing Penny with the neon toenails and the mysterious green eyes.

“Diego Ramos.” He held out his hand so he could shake hers.

He couldn’t help but notice Penny’s reaction. She’d jolted, her bright green eyes wide.

Did he know her?