Page 122 of Mountain Boss

Changing direction, I snag an extra flannel I left hanging off a dining room chair and shrug it on.

I’ll do my job now, but before I go to bed, I’m ordering Courtney the smallest, skimpiest, easiest-to-remove bikini I can find.

Chapter 102

Courtney

A branch creaks offto my side, deeper into the woods.

I hug my clothes tighter to my chest. “Lady Bear, if that’s you, I’ll be out of your forest in ten more steps.”

My heart leaps, but I force myself not to run.

“Five more steps.”

I swear I hear a huff.

Two steps.

Okay, I might run up the stairs.

And I might trip on my flip-flops.

But I wrench the door open and get inside before I hear any more signs of Lady Bear or Sasquatch or anything else that hopefully can’t open a round door handle.

The light I left on illuminates the room, and I give Spike a sheepish look as I drop my laundry in front of the washer. “Don’t judge me.”

As I move through the cabin, stripping down to nothing, I realize that it’s just as cold in here as it is outside.

“What the hell?” I stick a washcloth under the running sink water. “Sorry, Spike. I thought you were side-eyeing me for giving my boss a blow job.” I quickly scrub my skin, getting the rest of what Sterlingmissed earlier, as I stick my head out of the bathroom and talk to my cactus. “But you were just cold.”

Ideally, I’d shower off the chlorine clinging to my skin, but withmystery creatureoutside, I don’t plan on hiking to the bathrooms tonight. So I wet down the cloth again and do a quick once-over under my boobs and where my waterlogged bra was clinging to me.

Shivering, I hang the washcloth over the faucet, then grab Sterling’s flannel and pull it back on.

It’s a little damp where my bra was across my back, but the comfort it brings me is worth it.

I button it as I move into my bedroom.

Looking like an idiot, I button it all the way up to my neck, then flip the collar up. For warmth.

And if that means I can turn my head and sniff the collar, smelling Sterling’s scent… so be it.

I tug on a pair of sweatpants, then shuffle back out of the room to the thermostat next to the front door.

I frown.

It’s on.

The heat is set.

The little screen is working. Showing that it’s… fifty-nine degrees in the cabin.

“Well, fuck.”

I fiddle with the settings, then get on the floor and crawl under the table to put my ear next to the baseboard heater.

Not a sound.

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