Adirondack Audacity Read Online Free PDF Page A

her shoulders and her skin is the
color of café au latte. Dark brown eyes, almost black are
heavily rimmed with mascara and blue eye shadow. The
denim shirt knotted at her waist has several buttons
undone revealing ample cleavage. She looks older and
exotic. Her appearance bodes a red flag of warning, a
foretelling of wild bohemian ways, a beacon of
impending trouble...I return her peace sign with the
delicious anticipation of adventures yet to come.
“Here, you look like you could use one of these.” A
girl with long brown frizzy hair hands me an ice cold
soda from the cooler at her feet. I’d forgotten how hot
and thirsty I was until my hand touches the frosty glass
bottle. I smile at her with gratitude. “I’m envious,” she
says. “You have such beautiful hair.”
Really? Someone thinks I have beautiful hair. Wow. But a closer look at her hair in the fading evening light
reveals the reason behind her envy. If her hair were
straight, it would fall to the middle of her back;
unfortunately, it’s a mass of tight curls coming to rest at
her shoulders. Sigh… understated hair envy, so much for
the complement . “Thanks, I’m dying of thirst.” I answer
politely to both the complement and the Coke .
“You’re welcome, I’m Emi Jo Rodney.” She says,
laughing blue eyes peer out of glasses too large for her
face. “I’ll be doing arts and craft projects with the kids.
There ain’t nothing I can’t do with a piece of
boondoggle.” To illustrate her point she wiggles a long
cord of brightly colored strings fashioned into a keychain.
Emi Jo’s figure is lush bordering on plump. With a
matching gingham bow in her hair, she is the
personification of an arts and crafts counselor.
“And over here…” Morris gestures to a teenager
lounging in the background, too cool and disinterested to
join into the group introductions.
“This is Vic Rienz, our youngest counselor this year,
he came highly recommended…. by me. Vic made it to
the New York State Swimming Championship this year.”
Morris says to us. “Our families have known each other
for years and we’re thrilled to have him lifeguard for us
this summer. No drowning campers this year?” Morris
chuckles and ventures a lame attempt to engage Vic in
conversation. “Right Vic?” I’m close enough to hear Vic
mutter under his breath, “Yeah, if I don’t fucking drown
myself first at this joke of a camp.”
Youngest? I can’t help think; you’ve got to be kidding
me. Apart from the group, Vic props himself against the
hood of the van, tall, lean with the air of a brooding
panther locked in a cage against its’ will. He looks better
suited to counseling gang members on the streets of New
York then coaching privileged upper class children. He
reeks street savvy, not camp counselor. Hands slouched
into his pockets, black hair loose around his shoulders,
one errant lock tucked behind his ear. In a tough guy kind
of way, he’s handsome, cool, dark and private. Even in
the dim light he has the most arresting eyes I’ve ever
seen, dark brown with luminous shots of molten gold.
They’re gorgeous.
He has the well-defined arms and back muscles of a
swimmer, wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow
waist. His face is a study of angles, high carved
cheekbones and a square jaw. He unfolds himself from
the van and extends his hand, saying, "Hello mia , it is a
pleasure to meet you, Ellen McCauley.” I feel a jolt run
through me at his touch. He holds my hand a moment
longer than necessary, and leans in close as if to capture
the very air around me. I see the change in his eyes as our
hands meet; and feel the sudden tension in his fingers.
Smoldering dark eyes look deep into mine…and I feel my
heart begin a slow insistent thudding against my ribs. His
voice a drawl with a trace of Spanish accent, warns me to
beware. I can’t believe he even heard my name let alone
remembered it. His jeans are faded, worn through at one
knee