Page 4 of Longing for the Mountain Man

“My boss’s business card,” I interrupted. “And if I return home without drumming up some new business for him, he’ll have questions.”

“And you’ll have answers,” he said.

This guy was severely overestimating how much I could stand up to my boss. My boss was intimidating. He hadn’t built a successful one-man business being pushed around. And he certainly wasn’t going to let some twenty-three-year-old without a college degree or any real business experience get by with it.

“You don’t know my boss,” I said. “I’d barely get three words in, and he’d have me backing down. Maybe even hiding in a corner.”

Why was I admitting this to him? He’d think I was a complete pussy.

Trace glanced over at me. “Stick with me a little while. You’ll be ready to tell him to respect you or fuck off.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. I liked the idea of hanging around here for a while, though. In fact, I was starting to get more than a little bummed that I’d have to leave town in a few days.

4

TRACE

My first impression of Presley had been right. Before I’d known she was here to round up business, I’d assumed she was a good person. A beautiful woman with a big heart. That was exactly what she’d proven to be.

And I was dangerously close to falling for her.

It was something I’d realized midway through helping her make lunch for everyone, and it’d only grown stronger as we’d worked side by side all afternoon, helping clear away debris and salvaging important items. So, when she agreed to meet me for drinks at the retreat center bar after our workday was finished, I was about as happy as a pig in mud.

When I walked in to find we had the whole place to ourselves, though, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Presley sat at the bar, a drink in front of her. She was looking down at her phone as I strode confidently toward her. Only when I pulled out the stool next to her did she notice she was no longer alone.

“Oh, hi,” she said. “I think they’re short-staffed, but there are no other customers. I went to the lobby to ask if anyone was working, and they sent someone from the back to take my drink order. Apparently, the regular bartender?—”

“Bryce,” I said, cringing. “He’s my buddy’s nephew, the one whose belongings we spent part of the afternoon going through.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no. I had no idea.”

I took a deep breath and shrugged. “I can handle this.”

Wanting to impress her, I went around the back of the bar and snatched up a tall glass. I scooped some ice into it and made my favorite drink—whiskey and soda.

“Can’t you get in trouble for doing that?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Perks of living in a small town.”

“Apparently, they tried to get someone to help out behind the bar, but people keep disappearing on them.” Presley looked behind her. “Maybe they got bored.”

“I’m guessing they weren’t paying whoever it was. It’s kind of hard to get good help when you don’t pay.”

“My point exactly,” she said.

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at the woman seated across from me. Was she really going to launch into another sales pitch for her boss’s business?

She shrugged. “Just saying that my boss isn’t a total jerk. He paid for lunch for everyone.”

“Was that before or after you gave him my message?”

“I didn’t give him your message.”

That didn’t surprise me one bit. I originally hadn’t expected Presley to say a word to her boss about our conversation, but when I heard he was buying us lunch, I assumed she’d prettied up the message and delivered it, anyway. Why else would he have spent all that money feeding strangers?

“If he gets even one job out of this, he’ll come to town and assess the situation and do what he needs to do to help,” she said.

“So you still plan to try to round up clients?”

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