Page 12 of Roughing It

Of course, I’d delivered, and she spent weeks showing it off to her friends and family.

How little it meant in the end. I can’t suppress my wry grin.

Still, this couple seems different. The way she leans into him is sweet, and the look he gives her makes me think that’s what it must be like to be in love. His eyes are shining, and his mouth is curved up at the corners like he can’t help his smile.

For a second, I think they’re going to start kissing, but then she looks over her shoulder at me and shoots me a raised brow before she gathers up the bags and breezes past. She’s wearing expensive perfume that makes me want to sneeze, and her voice is slightly grating as she raises it.

“Eden! I’m not waiting for you!”

I hear a muffled “Fuck off,” which makes me laugh as I take my turn at the register, and by the time I’m done paying, the little trio and their Range Rover are pulling out of the parking lot.

Bernard, the man who owns the shop, shakes his head a little. “Every year, huh?”

I snort. “Seems so.”

“They checkin’ in to the lodge?”

I tuck my credit card away and pull the bags toward me. “I don’t think so. We have four in today. I’m hoping they take off before the storm hits. You all set up the hill? Y’all need me to send someone by?” He lives with his wife, and they lose power about as often as we do. But I have spry, young people working for me, and it’s just him and Doreen up there on their own, and they’re both pushing seventy.

“We’re good to go. Charlie came by two days ago and filled up the quad,” he tells me.

I relax a little. We’re a small group out here, and I’m certainly not going to let an old man suffer. “If we’re washed in for longer than a couple days, I’ll send someone over to check on you,” I tell him as I pull my keys out of my pocket. “And you got our channel if you need to radio in.”

He nods and gives me a wave as I load the truck up and head back up the hill. I know I’m in for a long weekend, but I’ve weathered worse before.

* * *

My phone’s buzzing by the time I finally get around back and into the garage, and I pull it out to see Phoenix’s name on the screen. He wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency, so I quickly answer as I slam the door shut.

“Yeah?”

“You’re on property, right?” he says, a little breathless.

I try not to groan. “Yeah, why? What’s going on?”

“A guest is pitching a fit because he doesn’t like the sheets,” Phoenix says. “He’s insisting we have an upgrade on the website, but I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

We sure as hell do not have a sheets upgrade. What the fuck even is that? All our guests get standard cotton, no matter if they book a single or a suite. We aren’t here to give some spa treatment. We’re in the mountains with horse trails and hiking. It was bad enough when the lodge GM, Zara, talked me into the damn boutique shop.

I hold the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I lock the truck and hurry inside. I wanted to immediately check on the kitten, but it’s obvious this asshole is going to mess up my afternoon, and the quicker I can get it handled, the quicker I can get back to the kitten.

I can hear the man arguing both on the phone and down the hall, so I hang up and march into the lobby, my hands on my hips and face drawn.

I’m not a particularly tall man, but I’ve been told I have a frown that can melt a glacier, so I make sure it’s settled on my brow as I approach the desk. The guest at the front looks exactly like I pictured. He’s in black slacks and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off an expensive watch. And he’s wearing black loafers without socks, which is a great way to pick up a tick between the forest-lined parking lot and the front doors. A not-so-generous part of me hopes he’ll learn his lesson the hard way.

He’s got his left hand in his pocket, and he’s drumming the desk with the knuckles on his right, looking both annoyed and bored at the same time. His gaze zeroes in on me, and I know immediately he’s not going to care what a hard-ass I am. He’s the sort of man who thinks that his wealth can buy him whatever the fuck he wants.

“Sir, my name is Maddox Barnes. How can I help you?”

“Well,Maddox Barnes,” he drawls. A lock of dirty-blond hair falls over his forehead, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I’d like to speak to someone in charge.”

“I can help you,” I tell him.

His lip pulls up at the corner. “Someone higher up than you.”

Phoenix, who looks relieved that I’m there, manages to catch a laugh with a faux cough. The man glares at him, but I don’t much care for guests who berate my staff, so I’m not going to say a damn word.

“Well, sir, there’s not much higher up than the owner,” I tell him.

---