Page 19 of Mountain Boss

Courtney raises a hand in the most hesitant wave I’ve ever seen.

She is clearly going to pretend that we haven’t already seen each other this morning, and that’s fine with me.

I dip my chin, then tilt my head toward the driveway.

She starts down her stairs, and I start down mine.

Chapter 15

Courtney

I shovemy hands into my pockets as I walk to meet Mr. Black in the driveway.

It shouldn’t matter that he’s good looking.

It’s not like I’ve never been around hot men before.

Not hot like him.

Okay, maybe he’s the hottest man I’ve met in real life, but I’m an adult. I can handle this.

My work boots crunch on the gravel as I slow to a stop.

His dark hair is mostly tamed. His beard…

I can’t look at his beard. Something about it does something to me, and I can’t deal with that right now.

He’s wearing jeans, possibly the same ones from yesterday. His flannel is red—and buttoned. And he’s carrying a steaming mug of coffee.

Motherfucker looks like he belongs in a damn Folgers Christmas ad. Just toss some snow on the pine trees, and he’d sell coffee by the truckload.

Then I notice the clipboard in his hand, and he no longer feels very Christmassy.

Chapter 16

Sterling

“Morn… ing.”Courtney’s greeting falters as I hold out the clipboard.

She takes it, flipping it over so the top sheet of the well-used legal pad is facing her.

Across the top of the paper, partially hidden by the clip, is the wordMaintenance.

I watch her flip through the pages, the top three filled with a dozen tasks each.

I didn’t create the list last night. This isn’t some prank. This is the collection of ongoing projects that need to get done around the Lodge.

Marty started the list months, maybe years ago. He was thorough in his observations… He just also happened to be very slow.

But I don’t share those details with Courtney. She can make whatever assumptions she wants regarding the timeliness of these items.

“Before you start on the list, your first job every morning is making coffee,” I tell her.

Courtney hugs the clipboard to her chest, then makes a point of looking at the mug in my hand.

I take a sip. “This is coffee from my house. You need to make a pot in the Food Hall for everyone.”

“Oh.” Her brows furrow, confusion coloring her tone. “Where’s the Food Hall?”

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