Page 34 of Shared By the Mountain Men

“We can have our fun later,” he promised.

Only slightly disappointed, I hefted my paddle and took a deep breath of the mountain air.

“I’m going to hold you to that!”

17

Jack

“You’re in the red cabin,” I explained, placing the color-coordinated key on the counter in front of me. “Follow the path behind this building until it curves to the left. Your cabin is the first one. Check-out is at noon.”

“Is the cabin numbered?” the guest asked. He looked like a tech bro from California who had never been above sea level. “There’s no number on this key.”

Gritting my teeth, I replied, “The cabin is red. It’s impossible to miss.”

The guy stared at me like it still didn’t make sense, but then he thankfully hefted his bag and left the office. I sighed with relief that I was done socializing for the morning.

“Hi!” said the next person in line, a college-aged girl with purple hair. “I’m staying in one of the primitive campsites this weekend, but I was wondering if any of the cabins are available.”

“Sorry, we’re all booked.”

She winced. “I was afraid of that. Is there a waiting list or anything? I’d really like to upgrade, if possible.”

I grabbed a pen and scribbled a note on my notepad. “We do have a wait list. I’ll add your name.”

She flashed a grateful smile. “Thanks a bunch!”

As soon as she was gone, I tore the sheet of paper off the notepad, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the trash. There was no wait list. Why would there be a wait list? I had seven cabins, and they were presently occupied. It wasn’t like someone was going to magically disappear in the next two days.

I never wanted to own a business like this. I preferred manual labor, working with my hands. Customer service wasn’t my strong suit, especially when dealing with idiots. And since this place had opened, I had discovered that the vast majority of people in the worldwereidiots.

Fortunately, most customers appreciated my brusque attitude as part of the experience of camping in the mountains. Or maybe they didn’t, but I couldn’t bring myself to care enough to worry about it.

But it could be worse. Being a small business owner gave me a lot of freedom. I didn’t have a boss. I could make my own schedule, disappearing into the mountains when I picked up one-off contracts to clear fire roads or maintain hiking trails for the Colorado Parks Department.

The door opened, and the purple-haired girl returned. “Hi! Sorry to bother you again…”

God damnit.

“…but I just checked online and it says you have one cabin free.” She held up her phone screen like it was the clinching piece of evidence in a trial.

“I can assure you, I do not.”

“It says it’s the Indigo Cabin,” she continued. “That’s the sixth one. There hasn’t been a car parked there, and I haven’t seen anyone inside.”

Right. The cabin I’d given to Melissa.

“What website is that?” I asked.

“Expedia.”

“They must have the wrong information. The Indigo Cabin is occupied. Thank you.”

“It’s just, since I haven’t seen anyone there…”

“Thank you,” I said a little more forcefully. She looked like she wanted to argue some more, but then left me in peace.

I shook my head when she was gone. I hated customer service. When we built this place, Sam was supposed to take care of all the customer-facing bullshit while I handled everything behind the scenes. Look how that turned out.

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