The first day of camp makes me nervous. It always has. And even though I’m now a camp counselor instead of a young camper, I’m still nervous. Meeting the other counselors, getting to know the kids, teaching new curriculum—it’s exciting, but nerve-racking too.

I’ve been a camp counselor every summer since I started college, but this is my first summer with Camp Discovery, so my usual “first day” nervousness is amplified. Although the program has been around since I was a child, I didn’t know much about it because my parents sent me and Tessa to another camp.

Earlier this year, when the mother of a child in my class asked if I’d recommend Camp Discovery, I did some research about the program. I was impressed, and when I saw that Science is Life was looking for qualified counselors for the upcoming summer, I decided to apply. I need the extra income that a summer gig provides, and I was pleasantly surprised when I learned how much Camp Discovery pays its counselors.

It’s just after eight o’clock in the morning, and all camp personnel are supposed to gather at half past the hour for a breakfast meeting at the Nest, the big building that serves as the hub of the camp.

Leaving my duffel bag in my old Mini Cooper, I grab my backpack and hook it over one shoulder. My counselor orientation packet is inside, along with a stash of fortune cookies from my favorite Chinese restaurant. It’s weird, but they settle my stomach faster and better than saltines and ginger ale or even those specially formulated pregnancy lollipops.

I look around and see a few people heading toward a gravel path at the corner of the parking lot. Like me, they’re wearing bright orange T-shirts with the Camp Discovery logo on the front. Assuming they’re counselors too (and they know where they’re going), I follow them.

As I approach the path, I see a tall wooden sign with arrows pointing toward the Nest, the staff and camper cabins, and the lake. According to my orientation packet, Camp Discovery is situated on roughly twelve acres and includes more than sixty cabins for its staff and two-hundred plus campers.

I begin the trek toward the Nest. Small boulders line the winding path, along with large pots overflowing with bright pink dahlias.

A few minutes later, the Nest comes into view. I was expecting an oversized log cabin, but this building features a modern design with straight lines, light-colored wood, and huge windows that offer a stunning view of the surrounding forest and lake.

The double doors open into a huge great room with wide-planked oak floors, a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace to one side, and a peaked ceiling accented with massive wooden beams. Several sofas and armchairs are scattered around the room, creating cozy conversation areas.

Toward the right, a display board rests on an easel, pointing all camp personnel toward the dining area. Another set of double doors leads to the spacious dining area, and once again, I’m surprised by what I see.

I was imagining row after row of cafeteria tables, like those found in school lunchrooms around the world, mine included. But the dining room at Camp Discovery offers a mix of seating, from long farmhouse-style wood tables to round café tables to spacious booths that could accommodate more than four people.

There’s no serving line either. Instead, a massive buffet stretches along one wall, with plates stacked on one end, and a few small beverage stations dot the space.

I hover to the side of the open doors, my eyes skimming the room. It’s clear that most of the counselors have worked together before because they’re laughing and talking like old friends. I hope they welcome new people. I’d hate to be treated like an outcast for the entire summer, like some real-life version of Mean Girls.

As I nervously smooth my hand over my hair, which I’ve styled in double Dutch braids, my gaze lands on a group of people about twenty feet away. A guy is standing with his back to me, talking to four women in a semicircle in front of him. Whatever he’s saying must be incredibly interesting because their expressions are rapt. Either that or he’s incredibly good-looking. 

I have to admit, he looks pretty good from the back. Tall with wavy, dark hair and nice broad shoulders.

He’s gesturing with both hands, and every time he moves his arms, the muscles of his shoulders flex and bunch under the thin cotton of his orange staff T-shirt. It’s untucked, concealing his butt, much to my disappointment.

My eyes wander lower, taking in his sand-colored cargo shorts, strong calves, and brown hiking boots. Hmm. I wonder if I should’ve worn hiking boots instead of tennis shoes? I don’t have time to go back to my car right now, but I’ll probably be able to switch my footwear before the campers arrive.

Just as I lift my gaze, the guy turns his head and glances over his shoulder. I gasp in surprise. What is Marco doing here?

Almost immediately, relief and happiness replace my surprise. I don’t care why he’s here, just that he is.

Before I can go to him, his eyes lock on me like a target indicator on a fighter jet. When they widen in obvious shock, I smile and wiggle my fingers in a little wave.

As he turns in my direction, his hot-fudge gaze flows over my body. From the way it lingers on my midsection, I know he’s aware of my pregnancy, and my hand involuntarily drops to my lower stomach.

I watch him as he moves toward me with long, confident strides. With each step, I mentally remove a piece of his clothing until he’s wearing nothing but his red-and-black Hublot watch.

Like most of the world, I’ve seen nearly every inch of him, thanks to that mishap with his swim trunks—the one that resulted in the infamous nickname Prince Prick.

I know Marco’s pecs are sprinkled with dark hair that arrows down his stomach. I know his abs are ridged like the sides of a steel soup can. But all the pictures I saw in magazines and online blurred out his cock, so I have to use my imagination for that.

Fortunately, when he’s at the pool or beach, he now wears swim shorts that remind me of shorter, tighter boxer briefs. He seems to think they’re safer than trunks. I wonder if he realizes they outline every curve and line of his princely prick?

Catching myself staring at his groin, I jerk my gaze up and away. A second later, he’s standing in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to see his face.

“Why are you here, Cassie?”

I’ve never heard him sound so harsh, and I blink in surprise. “The same reason you are, I think. I’m a camp counselor.”

Shaking his head, he mutters, “Of course you are.”

I study him for a moment, noting his clenched jaw and tight mouth. I’m hurt and confused by his standoffish behavior. He’s always been kind to me ... always been friendly. Truth be told, he’s always been more than friendly, and I have no idea what’s changed.

“You don’t seem too happy to see me, Marco, but I’m happy to see you.”

I lay my hand on his forearm, needing to touch him for some inexplicable reason. His gaze drops to my fingers, and his muscles tense almost imperceptibly before relaxing.

He lifts his gaze to mine. “You’re happy to see me?” he asks, his tone no longer harsh, but deep and quiet.

“Really happy to see you. It’s been forever.” I lightly squeeze his forearm. “I missed you.”

A slow smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “I missed you too.”

The tightness in my chest eases, and I suddenly feel like I can breathe again. “I was feeling so nervous when I walked in here ... worried no one would want to be friends with me. Then I saw you, and I felt so much better, knowing I already have a friend here.”

His soft laugh sends tingles skipping down my spine. “Don’t be silly, Cassie. Everyone will want to be your friend.”

He reaches up and strokes the tip of his forefinger over the tail of one of my braids. It’s hanging over my shoulder, only an inch or two above my nipple. Under the lace of my bra, the sensitive peak tightens, and I can’t help wondering how his fingers would feel on it.

Just like that, my pussy turns slick. I want to blame pregnancy hormones for my aroused state, but the sad truth is, they have very little to do with it. Marco always has this effect on me.

To my surprise, he wraps my braid around his fist and gently tugs me closer. His gaze roams over my face, sending color surging into my cheeks.

“You look...”

When his sentence trails off, I grimace and remove my hand from his forearm. “That bad, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” he counters. “How are you feeling?”

He sounds so sincerely concerned, I’m tempted to tell him all about my sore breasts, my overwhelming exhaustion, my horrible bloating, and my disgusting morning sickness. Instead, I paste on a smile and lie straight to his handsome face. 

“Fine. I feel fine.”

“And Zac is taking good care of you?”

“Umm ... well ... he...” I stutter to a stop, frantically thinking of the best way to answer the unexpected question. 

I still haven’t told anyone that Zac isn’t the father of my baby. I can’t bring myself to admit that I’m going to have to leave the space for the father’s name on the birth certificate blank.

Marco’s eyes narrow into slits. “There’s only one acceptable answer to my question, Cassie. Yes or no?”

I look away from his penetrating stare. “Zac and I aren’t together anymore. We broke up.”

His grip on my braid loosens. “What?” he breathes.

“I’m raising the baby by myself.”

“He abandoned you?” Marco’s voice drops to a whisper. “That motherfucker. I will slaughter him for this.”

“No!” Alarmed by the menace in his tone, I grab his hand. “It was my decision. I didn’t want Zac to be a part of our lives.”

A tense silence lingers between us for several heartbeats. Finally, he says, “If you need anything, you can come to me. I hope you know that.

To my surprise, he wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me to his chest. As I loop my arms around his waist, the scent of clean cotton, citrus aftershave, and warm Marco saturates the air around me. Unable to stop myself, I burrow closer and take a deep breath.

He drops his head and speaks softly into my ear. “Whatever you need, Cassie. I’ll take care of it.” His arms tighten around me. “I’ll take care of you.”