Page 45 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
The question catches him so off guard that his arms drop and he just stands there staring at me for a second. “I don’t think now is the best—”
“Personally, I would rather fight King Kong,” I tell him as I pull my phone out of my pocket and take several photos of the lobby from varying angles. “There’s a greater chance that he would fall in love with me and choose to protect me instead of fight.”
If we set up the food table in that corner by the window, people will get a good view of the massive back patio and its fire pit. “We could plan to have a fire on the night of the opening! Obviously it will have to be monitored if people are drinking, and we won’t allow any drinks out on the patio, but I think it would really showcase the away-from-the-world appeal of a place like this. Is it gas-powered?”
Fischer doesn’t answer until I look back at him. “Uh, yeah. Yes, it is.” He shakes his head, like he’s shaking away the disaster scenarios that were plaguing him a moment ago. “We should probably add some extra lights on the patio. We didn’t think about it with winter coming up.”
I grin at him before adding a note to the decoration tab on the spreadsheet. “I’m sure we can find some really nice string lights. What do you think about assigning a few of the lodge staff to do personal tours throughout the night?”
Though Fischer doesn’t say it out loud, when he takes my hand and looks at me with a soft expression I’ve never seen before, I feel every ounce of his gratitude.
I feel something else too. Something warm and solid in my chest. I don’t know what it is, but I like it, and more than ever I know that Fischer and I are going to make something great of this event.
Chapter Thirteen
Fischer
As much as I hateto admit it, I’m falling for Micah Taylor. And that’s bad. So, so bad. The last time I fell for a coworker, I ended up getting my reputation torn to shreds and losing everything I had. Though I doubt things could get any worse than they were six months ago when Miranda ruined my life—stomping on my heart in the process—I’m not keen to see the kind of damage a woman like Micah will do when she realizes I’m no good for her. It’s a miracle she’s kept me around this long, considering how little time she gives the guys who actively try to date her.
Therefore, this attraction will remain only that—an attraction. But I worry I won’t have the fortitude to keep it to myself if she carries on as she has been.
She’s incredible. In less than four hours, she’s mapped out the entire lodge in impressive detail, including each bit of decoration and every minute of the staff’s time. She was born to plan events like this, and I genuinely can’t figure out why Lila would keep her on a leash when she was born to run. To fly.
I’m not sure there’s a limit to what Micah can do.
I only wish she knew that like I do.
“What do you think?” she asks me for the millionth time, as if she expects this might be the one time I disagree with her. Honestly, I’m too tired and distracted to focus on anything but the way she is so confident in her plan until something shifts, like she remembers that she’s just an assistant.
I’m sure it’s a lingering sense of ease from when we were sitting so close together on the couch—when I nearly took a step I shouldn’t take—but I have no problem putting my hand on her arm as I speak to her in the kitchen where we’ve ended up. “You’re a far better event planner than me, Micah. I trust your judgment.”
She blinks, glancing down at my fingers once before meeting my gaze again. “But—”
“It’s a guest book. Whatever you think is best, you’re going to be right.”
“So you think it’s a good idea to dig up the old guest book and keep using it?”
“What did I just say?”
She bites her lip, which she does anytime she tries to hide her smile. It happens a lot, and it’s driving me crazy. “I’m just worried about making too many changes. Lila—”
“Lila is completely wasted,” I remind her. “She’s lucky you’re doing any of this in the first place. If it were up to me, I would let her fail.”
Her smile hits me straight in the chest. “It’s probably a good thing it’s not up to you, then.”
“Exactly.”
A knock on the swinging door pulls my attention away from Micah’s mouth. The driver—Kenny—pokes his head into the kitchen and grimaces, like he already knows we’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Bad news. There’s no way we’re getting out of here tonight.”
When he holds up his phone, I grab my own and quickly search the weather report. Several different articles pull up about a winter storm warning and road closures, which is not what I want to see right now.
“What if we leave right now before it gets worse?” I suggest.
Kenny shakes his head. “You strike me as New Mexico born and raised. Ever driven in snow?”
I shake my head. I took cabs and the subway when I was in college, and I generally didn’t leave my apartment if it was snowing because IwasNew Mexico born and raised. I was not meant for cold weather.
Nodding, Kenny points to the one window in the kitchen, though there’s nothing but white outside. “I’m not driving in this. You can risk your own life if you want, but I’m staying until the roads are safe.”
