Hi!
I write sweet, clean Christian romance novels that demonstrate the power of love and grace… and won’t make your grandmother blush ;)
I write sweet, clean Christian romance novels that demonstrate the power of love and grace… and won’t make your grandmother blush ;)
The first thing Steve Weston noticed when he got to church camp on Cape Cod was that none of the other kids gave him the side eye.
The second thing he noticed was the short, bubbly blond girl with the flawless skin and the megawatt smile. In her jean cutoffs and tie-dye T-shirt, she looked to him like a ball of sunshine and happiness and hope.
A pretty girl. A popular girl. The kind of girl who’d turn up her nose at him back home.
She squealed as a tall, brown-haired boy in a hockey jersey and cargo shorts hooked his arm around her neck and used his knuckles to ruffle her hair. “Brett!” she cried, pushing at him. “Knock it off!”
The boy laughed and let her go.
“You’re such a jerk!”
Steve strode over to them. After seventeen years of living with his father, he was used to dealing with bullies. “Everything okay?”
They were on the front lawn of Wychmere Community Church, a tiny white clapboard building with a belltower. The air was humid and sea-soaked, although they were a good mile or two away from the beach. A pack of seagulls squalled overhead.
The girl—who had dark brown eyes that caught the light and reflected it back at him in a way that almost made Steve feel lightheaded—shot him a surprised, possibly even grateful look.
“Is this guy bothering you?” he asked, nodding toward the boy she’d called Brett.
The girl snuck a look at her tormentor, her mouth quirking into a smile. “He most certainly is.”
“Hey, man,” the boy said, holding out his hand for a shake. “You must be new here. I’m Brett, and this is my sister, Chloe.”
Steve’s gaze flicked between him and Chloe, waiting for confirmation from her that Brett was telling the truth.
She sighed and put a dramatic hand to her forehead. “Alas, I wish it were not so.”
Brett snickered. “Save the theatrics for the play, sis.”
“They do a play here?” Steve asked. He’d been going to church with his best friend’s family for years, but he had no idea what to expect from church camp.
Chloe clapped her hands. “We do a lot of skits. Improv. They’re hilarious.”
Steve couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Sounds fun.”
Chloe grinned at him, and Brett shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly seeming defensive. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Steve Weston.”
“You a summer kid?” Brett asked, hiking up his chin.
Steve shrugged. “I guess.” He’d managed to convince his granddad to let him spend the summer with him here in Wychmere Bay, which had been no easy feat considering how much his grandfather hated Steve’s dad.
Not that Steve blamed him. He wasn’t too fond of the guy, either.
“Where’re you staying?” Brett asked.
“My granddad’s got a place on Frog Pond.”
Brett seemed to soften at that. “So you’re not right on the beach?”
“Nope.” Frog Pond was nice and all, but it was no Atlantic Ocean.
“You from Boston?”
Steve shook his head, wondering what was up with Brett’s interrogation. “New Hampshire.”
“What grade’re you in, Weston?”
“Just finished my junior year.”
“Cool, brother. I’m going into my junior year. Chloe here’s just a kid. She’s gonna be a sophomore.”
Fifteen, Steve calculated in his head. She was only fifteen.
Don’t even go there. A girl like her would never be interested in you, even if you were the same age.
Chloe stuck out her tongue at her brother. “I’m only one year younger than you, Brett. One. Year.”
“Seven when you convert it into dog years.”
“Argh!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re infuriating!”
Brett grinned. “You know you love me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Nice meeting you, Steve.” She gave him a weird little curtsey before disappearing into the midst of a group of girls who squealed, “Blondie!” as they folded her back into their flock.
Brett arched an eyebrow at him. “Got any siblings, Weston?”
“An older sister.”
“So you know how it goes.”
“Um, things with my sister don’t go anything like that.”
Brett laughed. “I pick on her because I care.” When Steve gave him a skeptical look, Brett laughed again. “How long are you in town for?”
“The whole summer.”
Brett made a surf’s-up sign with his left hand. “Sweet. We can hang out.”
A little spark of happiness flared in Steve’s chest. He had a clean slate here. None of these kids knew about his father—the drinking, the bar fights, the debt. “I’d like that.”
“Just one thing,” Brett said, getting serious.
Steve crossed his arms. Here it comes.
Of course he didn’t really have a clean slate. Of course he didn’t. Kids from good homes could smell the dysfunction on him from miles away. “What’s that?”
Brett narrowed his eyes. “Stay away from my little sister. She’s a pest, and I know for a fact my dad won’t let her date.”
Steve gave a slow nod as a strange sense of loss washed over him, even though there was no way she’d be interested in him anyway. “Why can’t she date?” he asked, because apparently he wasn’t ready to completely let go of the idea of getting to know her better.
Brett smirked. “My dad’s a little, shall we say, overprotective.”
Steve nodded again. He could respect that. “Better than the alternative, right?”
Laughing, Brett slapped him on the back. “I knew I liked you, Weston.”
Steve smiled, even though—to him—the alternative was no laughing matter. It was his whole life.
In this moment, though, he was happy, because even if he couldn’t date Chloe this summer, at least he’d made a new friend.
And maybe, just maybe, if he was friends with Brett, he could be friends with Chloe, too. Friendship wasn’t what he really wanted, but being friends was a thousand times better than nothing.
For a girl like Chloe, Steve decided, he’d take what he could get.
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