Page 6 of Her Mountain Boss
“The software can be tricky when it—”
“Duplicates the guest record if you try to pull in the payment profile before assigning the room, yeah.”
Oh. She already knows.
“Did you need something?” she asks, still focused on the screen.
Yes. You.The thought is a hungry growl that echoes through my skull, and it rattles me enough to have me stepping out frombehind the counter. “No,” I say gruffly, and walk away, feeling like a complete idiot. I need to find a way to stop mooning over my step-niece. Now.
I start to head for the door, deciding I’ll go find somewhere else to be when I hear the most gorgeous, delicate sound from behind me. Sophia’s laughing, the sound bright and glittering. I stop and turn to find her looking at Carter, another employee. He’s around her age, maybe a year or two older, and has worked here for the past two years in guest services.
He leans in and says something, making Sophia laugh again.
Before I can stop myself, I turn fully, hands planted on my hips. “Carter!” I bark. He jumps and turns to look at me. “Don’t you have something to do? Quit bothering Sophia.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, looking chagrined. He turns quickly and disappears into the guest services office. Sophia glances up at me, her eyes meeting mine, and I swear the air shimmers with heat.
I grunt and stomp out the front door.
Three
Sophia
It’s the end of my first week here at Blackwood Lodge, and I’m in the resort’s massive kitchen, which is all gleaming stainless steel and spotless white walls. I spent the first day getting to know the property, receiving an extensive tour from a friendly woman named Heather, who’s the director of guest experiences. I’d been hoping Ford would give me the tour, but I’m sure he was busy with other things. I spent the second day shadowing at the front desk, learning the software the resort uses, answering phones, and showing guests to their rooms or cabins.
Today, I’m hanging out in the kitchen and restaurant, where I’m currently helping Gus, the head chef, re-organize his impressive collection of spices and dried herbs. So far, everyone has been friendly and welcoming. I’d been expecting a bit of push back or stink eye, given that I’m the owner’s step-niece, but everyone seems to be happy to have me on board.
“I’m going to go inventory the pantry,” says Gus, and I nod at him. “You’re okay here?”
I shake a jar of cumin seeds at him. “All good. I’ll have everything perfectly organized for you, no problem.” After removing everything, we carefully wiped down the shelves, checked everything for freshness, and now it’s my job to re-organize everything the way Gus wants.
“You’re a gem, Sophia. Thanks.” He winks at me, swiping a hand over his shiny bald head as he walks down the short hallway that leads to an impressively stocked pantry of dry goods. I’m about to pop my earbuds in and start listening to my audiobook while I work when I catch sight of movement out of the corner of my eye. At the front of the kitchen, there’s a small, sleek pass-through window that allows kitchen staff to easily slide dishes to servers. I move towards it, peering out into the empty restaurant. Breakfast service ended ninety minutes ago, and the prep for lunch won’t start for another hour, which is why Gus and I are working on cleaning and organizing now.
I freeze, the jar of cumin seeds suspended mid-air. It’s Ford. His back is to me and he’s several feet away, but there’s no mistaking him. I’ve barely seen him since he snapped at Carter the other day, and I drink in the sight of him. His deep voice rumbles through the empty restaurant, making me shiver slightly. Making my toes curl in my sneakers. He paces toward the bar, his shoulders tight, and then grips the back of a chair. He’s irritated. I can tell from the hunch of his shoulders, his white-knuckled grip on the phone pressed to his ear. He turns slightly, giving me a glimpse of his profile. His brow is furrowed, his mouth a thin line.
“Are you asking me on a date?” His words are gruff, abrupt, and I feel like I’ve just been punched in the stomach. I wrap my hands around my waist, curling in on myself as unexpected pain ricochets through me. Nausea churns my stomach, and I suddenly feel lightheaded and cold. Who is he talking to? Who is he going on a date with?
And why does the thought of that make it feel as though my heart’s being ripped into shreds?
I set the jar down as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. Gus saunters back into the kitchen, whistling as he starts to chop onions at lightning speed. He doesn’t even look at me, remaining completely oblivious to the chaotic swirl of emotions inside me. I strain my ears, desperate to catch more of Ford’s conversation.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, his voice low. My heart hammers painfully in my chest. What’s not a good idea? The date? Why? Who is he talking to? A friend? A former lover? A guest? The questions pile up in my brain like one of those 20 vehicle collisions, each one slamming into the one before it. I clench my jaw, jealous heat burning a path up the middle of my chest.
I edge closer to the pass-through, needing to hear more. He turns, his back to me again, his shoulders so tense that my palms tingle with the urge to rub them. I want to soothe him, take care of him. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, and I wonder if the phone call is making him uncomfortable. After all, he doesn’t seem all that happy about it.
“I’m not interested, Amanda.” His voice is firm, almost cold. It definitely doesn’t leave any room for argument or misinterpretation. The relief that washes over me is so sudden and sharp in its sweetness that it actually takes my breath away for a second. He’s not interested.
But wait. Why? Is it because he already has a girlfriend? Or someone else he’d rather date? And who is Amanda? How does he know her? She clearly knows him well enough to have his number.
He ends the call, sliding his phone into his pocket. I quickly turn back to the spices, my heart pounding wildly. My cheeks are on fire, my skin hot and tingling. I’m not even sure whatI’m feeling right now—relief, jealousy, confusion, hope. What I do know is that the thought of Ford with another woman has cement churning in my stomach.
How did my crush spiral so far out of control so quickly? We’ve barely spoken. And yet…I can’t deny this pull I feel towards him. It’s crazy, but it’s like I’ve been waiting for him. I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is that it’s there, and I can’t seem to ignore it.
I don’t want to ignore it. Which is crazy, because he’s my step-uncle. He’s probably twice my age. He’s technically my boss. I have no idea what he feels for me, if anything. There are so many reasons why I should ignore it. And yet…I can’t. Ignoring these big, complicated, confusing feelings is next to impossible.
I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me when he showed me to his cabin. I can’t stop wondering if this is one sided or if he feels drawn to me, too.
And I’ve always been a curious girl. Not curious as in weird (okay, maybe a little) but curious as in the kind that killed the cat. Which is fitting, because I’m wondering if Ford wants to ruin my pussy just like I want him to.
