His Counterfeit Campfire Bride

  His Counterfeit Campfire Bride

  Camp Firefly Falls, Volume 2

  Gwen Hayes

  Published by Gwen Hayes, 2016.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  HIS COUNTERFEIT CAMPFIRE BRIDE

  First edition. July 15, 2016.

  Copyright © 2016 Gwen Hayes.

  ISBN: 978-1533740038

  Written by Gwen Hayes.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Want More Camp Firefly Falls?

  Excerpt from Crushing on Cooper by Violet Vaughn

  About the Author

  To Johnny and Frances

  Chapter One

  Well, hell. She’s wearing the pencil skirt again.

  Of course she was.

  Miguel Castillo paused at her open office door. Not to leer. Not exactly.

  Well, yes, exactly that.

  Most of the time, his feelings for Ms. Seraphina Worth ran pretty cold, much like the lady herself. But on pencil skirt day, he encountered a swift and unwelcome temperature change.

  Generally speaking, Miguel preferred blondes. Tall blondes. Tall blondes who surf, if he were given a choice.

  Sera was none of those things.

  She was petite. Like she might break into pieces petite. And she was brunette, which was fine, but she would never surf. Not in this lifetime. She wasn’t outdoorsy. She didn’t ...muss. He liked women not afraid to get a little dirty—in bed and out. Sera seemed more like the lights out, missionary style, once on Saturday nights to get it over with kind of girl.

  But when she wore the pencil skirt, it was always with the damned red lipstick.

  He was screwed.

  She still hadn’t noticed him as she looked out her window and talked into her phone. The sunlight streaming through the blinds landed on her, and he was shocked that he felt it in his gut. He was not allowed to have those kinds of feelings for Sera Worth. It was unprofessional and impossible. She was his co-director. She was his nemesis. And she was so fucking annoying.

  As if she heard his thoughts, she cocked her head and met his gaze, raising her eyebrow. Just one. One perfect arch over the rim of the reading glasses she must have forgotten to take off when she answered her phone.

  “I’ll call you back, Phillip,” she said into her phone. But she was looking at Miguel. And what she was saying was, “What do you want?”

  Before the race for the promotion, they’d gotten along for the most part. Mostly because they ignored each other. She wasn’t on his radar then—unless it was pencil skirt day, of course. And life had been fine.

  But then the director position opened up and things got...mean.

  They both wanted the job. She probably wanted it more than he had, at first. But the way she kept harping on him about not being the man for the job—Well, it had rankled. Miguel was not the most mature man he knew. When someone challenged him the way she did, continued to do, he couldn’t just laugh it off. He had to win. He had to conquer. He had to beat his chest and go primal.

  And then he got mean, too. It was like a horrible political campaign during election year the way they threw each other under the bus whenever they could. Lines were drawn and blithely ignored. Co-workers were dragged into the muck. Toward the end, he wasn’t even sure he knew himself anymore, but he knew for damned sure that Martin & Lewis Group would be fools to hire either one of them for the job.

  And surprise...Mr. Martin decided to do them one better—he gave the job to both of them. A shared position. Neither of them lost...but neither of them won, and it was a daily struggle to find a place to put all his caveman feelings.

  What was worse was that he now had a job he hadn’t really wanted, still didn’t really want, and it came with extra responsibilities. Miguel wasn’t irresponsible, despite what Ms. Worth had said about him to anyone who would listen all those months ago. He just didn’t care for being overly burdened with obligation. He enjoyed the feeling of a job well done—but that was about as far as it went. Sera, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the glorious importance of her duty.

  She finally noticed she was still wearing the reading glasses and slid them off her nose while she walked to her desk. “Hello, Miguel. Do we have a meeting on the calendar?” she asked primly. Again, it meant, “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to see if you’d had a chance to look over the focus group file.”

  She nodded, and how she managed to make even a head nod look condescending, he didn’t know. “Let’s do a quick meeting after lunch?”

  Of course. “Another meeting? Can’t we just talk about it now? I’m right here. You’re right here. Why do we have to plan to meet when we can just do it?”

  Her dead-eye stare was more potent than an eye roll. She had perfected her brand for sure. Ice Princess. “I want to finalize my notes.”

  Advertising pitches weren’t meant to be done in the middle of the day over a clean desk. Advertising was about all-nighters and too much coffee. It was about white boards and on-the-fly ideas. It was the adrenaline rush of near miss deadlines that kept him at his optimum performance level. And he performed really well for Martin & Lewis Group.

  Miguel stepped all the way into her office. “Why can’t we just talk. Brainstorming is not a four letter word. In fact, it’s a staple of our profession. I’m guessing you’ve heard of it.”

  Oh shit. Her hands moved to her hips. That meant he was about to get schooled. Which was bad enough. But getting schooled by her in that outfit, with that lipstick, was something he was not supposed to enjoy. Yet, he felt his interest rising, the flow of adrenaline beginning. He wanted to roll up his sleeves. Dig in. Get them both mussed.

  “I do brainstorm. I just like to do it on paper, alone with my own thoughts. Your way is not the only way.”

  “Neither is yours, princess.”

  The sound of someone clearing his throat behind him stopped her from responding to Miguel and instead she said, “Mr. Martin.”

  “In my office. Both of you. Now.”

  MR. MARTIN PIVOTED AND WAS out the door before Sera could respond.

  So she sent Miguel a “what is going on?” look. Because if he knew something and hadn’t told her...

  He shook his head. And luckily for him, looked just as confused as she felt. “I have a feeling this is not good.” He stepped back and gestured her to the door.

  She hated that Miguel was always a gentleman. Jerks should not also be gentlemen. But he never failed to open her door or push in her chair. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he was doing it to piss her off. But it was also just as likely that he was simply raised well. He had his share of negative traits, but his manners didn’t make the list.

  The walk down the hall was a long one. She focused on her breathing. It was important to still her emotions. Not get anxious.

  Count to ten, Sera.

  She wondered how many times she’d counted to ten in her lifetime. It was a trick the therapist taught her when she was eight years old before her surgery when she’d just been diagnosed for the second time in her young life with coarctation of the aorta. Quite a mouthful for a kid. Everything had gone topsy-turvy in her life, and she’d had to learn too early how to manage stress. The
therapist taught her how to focus on the things that were in her control and how not to obsess about whatever wasn’t in that circle.

  It’s possible that counting to ten was an outdated tactic and there were better ways of dealing with her feelings now that she was an adult, but it still worked and she had no desire to mess with it at this point.

  The last six months, though, she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d counted to one million in increments of ten. Something about Miguel Castillo brought out her need for counting. A lot.

  On the surface, he was Mr. Fun. Everyone in the office loved Miguel. He didn’t put on airs or drive a flashy car. He was just six feet of yummy tanned skin with the requisite dark hair and eyes. He laughed a lot, and the lines around his eyes were a sexy testament to that.

  But underneath the surface, he lived to make her life unbearable.

  Yes, she was controlling at times. Yes, she supposed it could be annoying. But she didn’t have the luxury of just “letting it happen.” If she’d let it happen, she’d have died before her tenth birthday. Nobody in her life, certainly not her mother, had been mature enough to make sure the meds didn’t get mixed up or appointments didn’t get missed. Sera had to organize her own pills and study city bus schedules and routes to the clinic. She’d learned how to find books in the library about congenital heart defects. How to ask doctors the right questions. How to keep at the doctors and nurses until they answered her, even if she was just a child.

  So, yes. Sera took things seriously. Everything. Her health most of all. And that meant knowing what was and wasn’t in her control, and controlling the hell out of the things that were.

  Her job: in her control. Her co-director: so not.

  After insisting that they both sit, Mr. Martin drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him without saying a word. For an interminable amount of minutes. A thousand times she wanted to say something, anything, and ask what he needed to see them about. Break the tension as it ratcheted higher and higher. But she sat with her hands folded primly in her lap and waited him out. She was surprised Miguel chose a similar tactic, though his body was more or less sprawled in the chair.

  They waited.

  And waited.

  The ticking of the wall clock getting louder. The silence bearing down, pressing against her skull like the atmosphere right before a rainstorm. She concentrated on her breathing. She concentrated on Miguel’s shoelace. She tried to clear her head. She—

  “Do you know why I promoted you both to director last month?” Mr. Martin startled her out of her intense study of a carpet divot.

  She and Miguel exchanged a glance.

  You answer.

  No, you.

  He shook his head. She narrowed her eyes.

  Mr. Martin exhaled loudly. “Because you two were supposed to be my dream team. You both had qualities I wanted for the position. You were both perfect for the job. So what could be more perfect than having you both?” He paused long enough to take a breath, but not long enough for anyone to answer the rhetorical question. “Except you’re not. Together you are useless.”

  “Mr. Martin—”

  “I mean it. You haven’t brought me a damn thing I can use, your staff is afraid of you, and HR says someone has complained about a hostile work environment.”

  That brought Miguel up from his indolent slouch. “A hostile work environment? That’s insane.”

  Mr. Martin raised his hands in front of him. “I assumed that there might be a few bumps to smooth out, but I had faith that the two of you could make it work. You’re my superstars. But neither of you can figure out how to compromise and you’re not bringing down my entire company to play your little ego games.”

  “Mr. Martin—”

  He shut her up with a look. “I am giving you one last chance.”

  Her heart rate slowed again. Okay. She wasn’t sunk.

  He slid two envelopes to them across his desk. “You are going on a mandatory business trip. Tomorrow. For one week.”

  “Tomorrow?” Miguel asked while she opened up the envelope. Plane tickets and a packing list for...summer camp? “For a whole week?”

  “What is Camp Firefly Falls?” she asked as she scanned the list. Bug spray and flashlights? She’d never been camping in her life.

  Mr. Martin smiled. Not a very nice one either.

  “It’s a summer camp for adults. They run different themes all summer. You two are going to the team building session. You will come back with whatever certificate they award, and if there are ribbons or awards or competitions, you will work together to win every single one of them as a team. If you don’t come back with proof that you can not only work together, but are the best damned team since Captain and Tennille, don’t come back.”

  Who were Captain and Tennille?

  Miguel scraped his hands over his jaw. “Team building like...walk across hot coals and fall into each other’s arms stuff?”

  Mr. Martin answered with a shrug. “I really don’t know what they do and I really don’t care. All I know is that you will find a way to win and you will find a way to work together or you won’t have jobs to come back to.”

  “But our accounts—” They couldn’t just leave for a week.

  ‘Your first task is to delegate. There isn’t any wi-fi at summer camp.”

  “What?” they both shouted at the same time.

  “The brochure said cell service is spotty also. Good luck. See you in a week.”

  They’d been dismissed. They looked at each other and back at Mr. Martin, but he was already rounding the desk and striding out of his own office. Leaving them there.

  “This is ridiculous,” Miguel said. “He can’t just send us to summer camp. We’re not twelve.”

  “I can’t lose this job.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She knew better than to show weakness in front of Miguel.

  But her mom...she could not lose this job. There was no way she could cover two mortgages while unemployed.

  He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and stared at the floor. “Nobody is losing their job. If you weren’t so...”

  Rage exploded bright red behind her eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? This is not my fault.”

  “All I’m saying is that...hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. We don’t have much choice. We’ll go to summer camp and we’ll come back with a bunch of blue ribbons for three-legged races and best s’more makers. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Agreed.”

  They both blinked at the idea that they could agree on something. Anything. Because for six months, they hadn’t been able to agree on anything as simple as What is today’s date?

  Miguel let out a strangled laugh. “See, Ms. Worth? It’s already working.”

  Chapter Two

  Welcome to Camp Firefly Falls

  Are you ready for the time of your life?

  From the Activities Coordinator:

  Established in 1971, Camp Firefly Falls was a popular family retreat until the late ‘90s, eventually closing in 2000. It was purchased two years ago by the Tullys, who renovated the ghost camp into a getaway for adult campers seeking to escape the mundane and retreat to a simpler time—only this time the liquor runs freely at your new favorite all-inclusive resort.

  Your cabins have bathrooms and maid service every day. Water toys, canoes, sports equipment, kayaks, and beach towels can be checked out at the boathouse and are included in your stay. If you should need any amenities, please visit the lodge and we’ll try to accommodate you.

  Please read and abide by all rules and regulations included in your packet. (There are not that many and they are there for your safety.)

  First Day Schedule

  10:00-6:00 Registration

  10:00-6:00 Tours every half hour. Meet at the tennis courts located on your map.

  5:00 Cocktail reception in the boathouse

  6:00-7:30 Dinner

  9:00-2:00 a.m. Campfire

  MIGUEL DIDN’T QUITE KNOW
WHAT to make of cold-hearted Sera Worth wearing shorts and a ponytail. He sort of assumed she slept in her business suits and pencil skirts. If he had imagined her in shorts, they would have been longer. Ironed probably. The cut-off denim was a big surprise. Not a welcome one. He didn’t like that she could surprise him. He didn’t like that she looked really good in Daisy Dukes. He didn’t like that her legs were curvy and strong and that he wasn’t the only one who noticed. But there she was, standing in front of him in the long registration line at Camp Firefly Falls.

  Jesus. Summer camp.

  He did feel twelve again, actually. And it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. From where they stood, he could see cabins in the distance, lots of playing fields, even more trees, and a lake peeking through a break in the pines. He heard someone say zip-lining...and he’d put money down that most of the guys in this line would play a pick-up game of ball without hesitation. If he just kept a good attitude, this could be like a vacation. There were plenty of women in line. Gorgeous women. His type of women. He didn’t need to obsess about his business partner’s curves.

  But there was a guy a few people ahead of them who was also obsessing about his business partner. And Miguel added one more thing to his list of things he didn’t like. Him. Preppy, bland, and exactly the type of guy she went for. Miguel knew because he’d seen the dudes she brought to work events. Guys like Phillip from her phone call yesterday.

  If Miguel was feeling possessive, it was only because he needed her focused to keep his job. He didn’t need some blond corporate asshole taking her mind off their mission. They were here to be the best of the best and nothing was going to stand in his way. What was needed here was a subtle, “Back off, asshole. I see you staring at her” move.

  So he palmed her shoulder casually. “I had my first kiss at camp,” he said while resisting the urge to tug on her ponytail.

  She turned around and craned her neck to see him. Without her heels, she was even tinier than usual. Which was supposed to slow down that punch in his chest when he realized she hadn’t covered her freckles with makeup today. “I’ve never been to camp.”