Page 12 of All You Need Is Macchiato

He looks at my hand, still resting on his arm, and I quickly pull it back.

"Fine." He straightens, and suddenly I'm very aware of how he towers over me. "But I'm not doing it for Cam."

"I know."

"And I do it my way. No corporate oversight."

"Within reason."

That gets me a real smile, quick and dangerous. "Afraid I'll corrupt your brand standards?"

"Afraid you'll turn the place into a mountain lodge annex."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He picks up the axe again. "The lodge has better coffee anyway."

"For now." I back away before I can get distracted again. "Meeting tomorrow? We can go over ideas?"

"Make it dinner." At my surprised look, he adds, "Declan's making his famous pot roast. Unless you have other plans?"

"Dinner sounds perfect."

I'm halfway back to the lodge when his voice stops me.

"Kathryn?"

I turn. He's silhouetted against the morning sun, axe resting on his shoulder, looking every inch the mountain man I first took him for.

"This better not be another corporate rescue mission."

"It's not," I say softly. "It's about making something right."

He nods once, then turns back to his work. I definitely don't watch him set up another log. Definitely don't notice how his shirt clings to his shoulders as he swings the axe.

Definitely need to focus on something—anything—else.

Chapter Six

Kathryn

The sun's setting as I make my way to the lodge, painting the mountains in shades of pink and gold. I've swapped my blazer for a soft sweater. The pile of discarded clothes on the bed is proof that it wasn't my first choice.

My hands won't stop fidgeting with my hair, which is ridiculous because this is just a business dinner. Planning events. Strategic development. Nothing that explains why my stomach keeps doing little flips or why I had to redo my lip gloss twice.

I blame the altitude.

I expect to find the usual bustling great room, full of hiking-tired tourists and chattering families. Instead, Nolan's waiting at the entrance, looking unfairly handsome in a dark button-down that makes his eyes even bluer.

"No tablet?" He quirks an eyebrow at my empty hands.

"In my bag." I pat the leather tote that holds not only my tablet but three different proposal drafts. "I can be off-duty sometimes."

"We'll see about that." He gestures for me to follow him, not toward the main dining room but down a quieter hallway. "Aunt Evie thought we might want some space to work."

He opens a door to reveal a smaller room I didn't even know existed. A fire crackles in a stone hearth, casting dancing shadows on walls lined with vintage photographs of the lodge. The table is set with gleaming silverware and wine glasses that catch the light from iron lanterns overhead.

"This is..." I swallow. "Cozy."

"Private dining room." Nolan pulls out my chair. "For special occasions."

---