“Well, yeah, that’s easy. But—”
“We could use you,” Michael admitted.
Sarah’s head spun. Work here? Stay the summer? She looked to Beckett.
He angled his head. “Different path.”
“I still have to finish my thesis by the end of the summer.”
“Yeah, but think about it, Sarah. You said you were having trouble writing in Brooklyn. The guests wouldn’t take up that much of her time, would they?” Beckett asked, turning to Michael.
“Some sessions more than others, but no, it wouldn’t be that bad. We might ask you to pinch hit occasionally, but it certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you to write around that.”
“You’d have time to write up here. Time and quiet,” Taylor pointed out. “And plenty of fodder for your camera.”
And Beckett. I could have Beckett.
Sarah didn’t know what she wanted for a career. She didn’t know if she really wanted her PhD. She didn’t know if she’d change her mind about the path she was on. But she knew she wanted more than this week with him.
She let the smile come, and warmed as she watched the matching curve of Beckett’s lips. “Then I guess I’m here for the summer.”
When he stretched out his hand, she took it.
“I told you we’d figure it out,” he said.
“So you did.” Sarah moved into him, pressing her cheek to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. All the tension she’d been carrying around for the past week simply drained out of her. Taylor would, no doubt, be looking for explanations, but that could wait. Right this second, she just wanted to stand here and bask.
The digitized camera noise had her lifting her head in time to see Michael lining up for another shot with his phone.
“Look over here and smile now. For the bulletin board at Pinecone Lodge.”
~*~
Beckett set his feet for the last climb of the day. Frasier, a CPA out of California, who’d come with his husband for Grease Week, had decided to branch out from the musical-themed activities for something a little more outdoorsy. Of course, the rest of the Pink Gaydies had come to watch. Tavi, Harley, and Everett—Frasier’s more outgoing half—stood back from Boulder Mountain shouting encouragement.
“You’ve got this, honey!”
“Piece of cake.”
“That harness does amazing things for your ass,” Everett said.
“I’m much more concerned with how well it keeps my ass from falling off the mountain,” Frasier shot back.
“You’re all tied in properly,” Beckett assured him. “Anything happens, I’m right here to catch you.”
“With all those muscles, you can catch me anytime,” Tavi announced.
Beckett held in a snort. These guys had been some of the most entertaining campers of the summer.
“Too late,” Taylor interjected. “He got caught months ago by my sister.”
“Who should have been back by now,” Beckett groused.
Sarah had left yesterday for New York. Her thesis defense had been scheduled for nine o’clock this morning. Even with the expectation that the defense could take a few hours, he’d expected to hear from her by lunchtime about how it went. Now it was coming up on dinner. Even taking into account the spotty cell service up here, she should have been back to camp. The lack of word was making him twitchy. What if the familiarity of academia had her jumping at the PhD program?
“Relax. She probably had lunch with her committee and then stopped by her apartment in Brooklyn on her way out of town. It’s Friday. Traffic getting out of the city will be a bitch.”
Taylor was probably right. But he’d feel better once he laid eyes on her himself.