Free Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) by Anna Katmore

and boys. “The team that manages to steal the opponent’s flag and can hold on to it until the end of camp will be announced winner. The losing team will be servants to the winning team for the entire last weekend of camp.”
    These additions to the rules are new to me. I shoot her a startled look, which she returns with a shrug. “Thought we should put something big at stake,” she whispers and smirks.
    I like her idea. And so do the youngsters. Excited murmurs break out as they start making plans for the right hiding places. Before they can slip out through the double door into the thankfully sunny morning, I call after them, “Dance club in thirty minutes at the girls’ campsite! Soccer down by the lake!”
    Chloe’s irritated grumble as she stomps away isn’t lost on me. She’s one unhappy dancing instructor. Did she think I would change my mind overnight? Oh, how little she knows me… I could have easily assigned her to soccer yesterday, but the truth is, I didn’t want to. Like everyone else, she too has to learn that not everything we wish for comes true in life. And I’m happy to be the one to teach her that particular lesson after so many years.
    Am I trying to settle a score with her? Well, since we’re both stuck in these woods for five weeks, it would be a wasted chance not to, right?
    With a chuckle on my lips, I walk out into the warming sun and watch her trudge away down the path.
    Twenty minutes later, I’m at the lake helping Greyson get a game of soccer started up. He seems to have everything under control, so I leave him alone with the kids. Before I return to our cabin, though, I decide to make a detour and stop by the girls’ site to check how Chloe’s doing with the dancing.
    Music fills the area around their cabins. An iPod lies on the table in the middle of the space, along with Chloe, who sits beside it, her feet planted on the bench. Seven or so girls stand huddled in a group a couple feet away and awkwardly sway their arms or shift their weight from one foot to the other.
    Sighing deeply, I shake my head as I join Chloe on the table. “Is this your idea of teaching them to dance?”
    “Freestyle,” she tosses cynically at my face.
    “So you intend to sit around and do nothing for the next five weeks?”
    “I’m not doing nothing. I’m supervising, can’t you see?”
    Supervising is the keyword. “You know that I’m actually supposed to supervise you . So what do you suggest I say when I’m asked if you engaged in any camp activities?”
    Chloe doesn’t spare me a look but leans back on her elbows and keeps her gaze on the dancers in front of us as she says in a cold tone, “Tell them I attended mealtimes.”
    Yeah, so far that’s the most I can write in my report about her. And maybe I should. Who am I to give a damn anyway whether she makes up her hours before the end of her probation or not? If she can’t make concessions, then she’ll have to live with the consequences, not me. I’m just someone asked to observe.
    Then again, what kind of a teacher will it make me later if I give up at the first obstacle? She’s difficult, but there’s always a way to get through to everyone. I just need to find the right one with her. More importantly, leaving her alone wouldn’t quite help me with settling those old scores with her.
    I have other plans.
    Exhaling a frustrated sigh, I prod her, “Come on, you can do better than this. Teach them a few moves. They’re supposed to have fun here, not look like Homer Simpson in a bar.”
    “You can’t teach them what you can’t do yourself.”
    I’m pretty sure that look of hers is meant to poison me, but I shrug it off, unimpressed. “How about you start with some stretching? And I’m sure you’ve seen enough Pitbull videos to remember at least a handful of moves to show them.”
    Come to think of it, watching her dance would be quite the show, especially in that hot, black outfit she’s wearing right now. If her body