Hill Country Hero by Ann DeFee Read Free Book Online Page A

known to pitch a hissy, and when she did, smart people sat up and listened. But not today. This was a perfect summer day.
    Dozens of truck-size inner tubes were stacked up, surrounded by giggling girls and cocky boys. They were getting last-minute instructions and being fitted for life jackets. Several tubes were tied together to create a floating snack table with coolers of soft drinks and waterproof containers of chips. It looked like an aquatic cocktail party, without the cocktails or napkins.
    Jake grabbed the largest tube he could find, but quickly discovered there wasn’t a life jacket big enough for him. That wasn’t a problem; he knew how to swim. Jake hoisted the tube over his shoulder and elbowed through the crush of teenagers to the dock to wait for Madame Taskmaster, aka CiCi Hurst.
    It wasn’t long before he spied her over the sea of kids. She was taller than most of the boys, and in her high-cut, black one-piece swimsuit, she was stunning—not touchable, but very attractive. If anything, her choice of attire highlighted the social gulf between them. Her designer suit said she was sorority, debutante court and Junior League, while he was street hockey, Pop Warner football and the barrio.
    By anyone’s standards that wasn’t a good mix. She probably enjoyed literary discussions, caviar and Dom Perignon. He was more comfortable with a Budweiser, nachos and sports. So where did that leave them?
    The answer to that was a great big nowhere.
     
    “H I .” C I C I RAISED her hand. That was the best she could do. No wonder all the co-ed counselors, not to mention most of the female campers, were gaga over Jake Culpepper. In a word, he was hot. HOT!
    It was a darned good thing he was wearing a T-shirt because she suspected that one look at his world-class chest would leave her drooling, addlepated and incapable of coherent conversation. Just thinking about it sent her skittering back to her post-divorce mantra—remember Tank, remember Tank.
    “I see you’re all set.” Swimsuit, inner tube, standing by the water—yep, he was ready to roll. “Okay, let’s do it.”
    It was time to get down to business. CiCi signaled the staff to join them for a prefloat meeting. While the college kids were ambling over, she decided to ask Jake a question that had been on her mind ever since Daddy had ordered him to the camp.
    “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his Texas Rangers ball cap.
    Why did he have to be a gentleman? If he acted like a jerk, it would be so much easier to ignore him.
    “Well, good.” What else could she say, other than she hoped he enjoyed burned hot dogs.
    “Is everyone ready?” The staff members nodded. “Great. Cookie and her team will drive down to the dam and set up our picnic.”
    “Are we having s’mores?” That question was asked by a pudgy counselor who clearly hadn’t missed too many meals.
    “Yes, we are,” CiCi assured him. “We’re doing kid food. I suspect this crew will attack the cuisine like locusts ploughing through a field of new wheat. Let’s get moving.” CiCi crossed her fingers and gave her senior counselor a thumbs up.
    It would take nearly two hours to float to the dam. From there the itinerary included food, swimming and some organized games before they took the kids back to Camp Touchdown in vans.
    Greg blew his whistle and the kids stampeded for the inner tubes.
     
    J AKE TILTED his ball cap down and closed his eyes, ignoring the squeals and occasional splashes. The river had a way of soothing the soul. It had been a restless night and the gently lapping water was putting him to sleep.
    The respite didn’t last long. Rondelle and some of his buddies floated up and bombarded him with questions. What was it like to be a pro athlete? Did he take steroids? Was it true he’d dated half of the Road Runner gals? The answers ranged from great, to absolutely not, to a quarter maybe, but definitely not half the