Page 5 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

I rammed my head into the top of the fridge. Pained, I pulled away. “What?”

Zara pointed to a window. “It’s morning.”

Jarred, I looked to the window and damned if the weak rays of sunlight were not coming in through the panes. How long had I been awake?

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked, nodding to the couch.

“No,” I grunted while the kettle began to whistle. “That thing is prehistoric rock, and Laura needs to throw that pile of springs and lump into the trash heap.” Nodding to the table, I said, “Since you’re here, your job starts today. Trial by fire.”

Her lips were pressed tight. “What do you mean?”

“We need to head to the fairgrounds and set up with the organizers,” I nodded to the papers on my desk.

“The fair?” She gaped. “But I thought I was to work on the ranch, n-not the?—”

“You’re my PA, right?” I tasted the coffee and grimaced at how bitter it was. I like my coffee black but not bitter. “Your job goes where I go, and we’re going to the fair today. And I have to sort out this room situation.”

“Thank you,” Zara replied, “Do we have more coffee?”

I gestured to the cupboard, “Knock yourself out.”

The tension in the room was so stiff a sledgehammer couldn’t budge it. As I sipped my cut-rate coffee, I focused on the papers. A whiff of vanilla—and was that lily?—lingered in the air after she took the cup to the room.

After rinsing the cup, I slid my boots on, shoved my arms into my jacket, headed out, and decided to find Laura and fix this room mishap. The mist was still lingering on the ground as I trudged up to the main office, birds twittering away in the treetops.

Getting to the blue-painted door, I knocked and waited for Laura to answer. When she did, I barely got the greeting out before I said, “I need you to change Ms. Harrington’s room now, please.”

“Why?”

“Because she is housed with me,” I said, tone grating. “And I made a big mistake when walking into the room.”

While fishing her books out, Laura asked, “What happened?”

“I’d rather not say,” I huffed. I would swallow a cactus before I admitted that I had mistaken the poor girl for a hooker. “Suffice it to say, I need to find separate quarters for her.”

She began to look over the books while I began to plan my day at the fairgrounds, who I needed to talk to and complete the prelim arrangements. Then, get a good cup of coffee so I could start the next seven days right. After that, I needed to call Frankie and check on how the birthing was going on?—

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Laura’s mumble snapped my attention back to her, and before she spoke, I felt dread sink an ice cube the size of Antarctica into my gut.

“What?”

Her face fell with regret. “Because of the influx for the festival, all of our rooms are filled. There are no more rooms.”

“No…more…rooms,” I echoed the words hollowly. “Are you sure? Maybe someone has canceled, or maybe you overlooked someone? Is there anything? Anything at all?”

Laura shook her head. “I am so sorry, Warrick. This was my mistake, but sadly I can’t correct it…not until the fair ends or someone bows out.”

The reality that I was to be stuck with Zara for seven days made my blood run cold. Swallowing, I considered what to do next. “Can you at least get a single bed in, please? That couch is harder and lumpier than…I don’t know what to liken it to. It’s probably better off as firewood.”

She laughed guiltily. “I’ll get Robbie to get one of those fold-out beds from the attic and send it over to you by this evening. I assume you will be out today?”

“We both will be,” I added. The disappointment at not remedying the living situation curdled in my gut. “I suppose I’ll have to make the best of it.”

With that settled, I headed back to the cottage, unsure of what to do or say when I got inside. Stepping in, I found Zara pouring another cup, but she was dressed in a polo and dark jeans that could work on the field or in an office.

“Bad news,” I said, tugging the bomber jacket off, “There are no vacant rooms, so we’re going to have to tough it out.”

“Together.”

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