Page 18 of Making New Plans

While I worked on the employee schedule for next week, Sarah responded to my frantic texts about the committees and confirmed what I’d dreaded: an error in my planner calendar. I had two committee meetings tonight, and I’d bet a gallon-sized caramel macchiato that my mother expected me at both.

Crap! I was also supposed to pick up the Furry Family bumper stickers tonight! I’d ordered them for the event tomorrow from an independently owned shop in the city and had agreed to pick them up to save on shipping. Now I really had a reason not to go to the stupid second meeting if not just to avoid my mother. But did I want to endure her jabs for the entirety of Sunday dinner?

Oh, hello, headache.

I groaned and dug for some Advil I kept in the desk drawer, throwing back a few with coffee. Then I picked up my phone and sent a pleading and very apologetic message to Owen, asking him if he could please, please pick up the stickers tonight. He responded a few minutes later with “Sure!” and a smiley face. Still feeling guilty, I texted him the address and another thank-you. He answered with a request for Hunter’s presence at the event tomorrow.

Gritting my teeth, I texted him the truth: “I’ll try my best.”

The front doors whooshed open, jolting me to my feet. My jaw slackened when I saw Hunter charge into the lodge carrying a takeout box from Monty’s with a maniacal spark in his eyes.

He placed his box on the desk and motioned to me. “Will you come with me for a minute?”

My surprise at his asking, not demanding, fell flat when he turned and rushed up the stairs without waiting for me.

“Okay,” I grumbled. Good thing I hadn’t come up with an official training plan. He probably would’ve chucked it out the window by now.

He led me to the hallway where he’d gotten miffed and left. Jabbing his finger at a duck painting that had hung there as long as I could remember, he demanded, “Do you like this painting?”

For a moment, I panicked. Was this a trick question? What if I answered wrong?

“Umm, not really? I mean, it’s fine if you like ducks and—what are you doing?”

I gaped as he unhooked it from the wall and strode back down the stairs. Instead of worrying about the painting’s fate as I hurried after him, I admired his power walk. Long legs swinging. Butt muscles clenching. Thankfully, he was too busy with his duck painting mission to notice my spying eyes and hot cheeks. Unlike last time.

He halted at the dumpster outside the lodge and threw the painting in like he was an all-star major league pitcher. The sound of glass shattering and wood splintering followed. Then he whipped around to face me with an honest-to-goodness grin lifting his perfectly stubbled cheeks. And heaven help me, there was a dimple.

His earlier smile had been a mere mockery of the one blazing down on me now. If I’d known he could smile like that, I would’ve trashed the painting the second he’d arrived. Was that really only yesterday? Oh, this was bad. This was so bad.

Maybe he smiled all the time, and this was just the first time I’d witnessed it. Yeah, that was it. No big deal.

“Better?” I asked in a strangled voice.

“Much.” He stepped toward me. “And if you’re open to it, I have a few more things in mind I’d like to trash. Starting with the moose head hiding in your office.”

“Actually, I, uh, already disposed of Morton.” The words dribbled from my mouth. A mouth that he was staring at. Again. I really hoped he was looking at it for the reason I wanted him to, not because I had whipped cream on my lip or something. I tended to do shots of whipped cream from the can when stressed.

His eyes lit up as he let loose a deep chuckle. “Morton? Figures. I’m glad. That it’s gone.” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his gaze. “It’d be nice to have the lodge looking better by the time I go.”

And just like that, I had no problem speaking again. I drew my shoulders back. “Right. Need it to appeal to potential buyers. Got it.” I spun on my heel, intent on leaving him in my righteous dust.

“Wait, Chloe—”

I glared over my shoulder. “Leave a list on my desk. Or better yet, you can do it yourself since the lodge is practically yours anyway.”

Once inside, I grabbed my room checklist clipboard and hurried up to one of the empty rooms. Hunter should probably be with me while I verified that each room was clean and fully stocked, what with the whole shadowing thing. But for a few minutes, I didn’t want to think about him, or the super inconvenient attraction I had to him, or that he planned to leave in four weeks and sell the lodge. For a few minutes, I simply wanted to poke around the rooms, check each item off my list, and treat today like any other day. Because I could lose these days soon. The thought twisted my insides like a tornado.

My parents hadn’t wanted me to work here for more than few years. “A decent way to pass the time, supporting your town, before you settle down,” my mother had labeled it. My father simply hadn’t liked the Ericksons. But he never really cared what I did, as long as I did it quietly.

I’d busted my butt over the years to make sure every guest had a memorable experience because of the deep satisfaction it gave me. To top it off, I’d raised our return-guest rate over 200 percent. Yep, Proud of Chloe, table for one, please.

And now the chiseled hunk of eye candy doubling as my soon-to-be boss might ruin everything.

Growling, I checked a box hard enough to rip the paper. And then remembered I was supposed to invite Hunter to the Furry Family event tomorrow. Too late now. I’d apologize to Owen. Again. But no way was I going back to Hunter and asking him to enjoy a nice day out with my town. He didn’t care, and I needed a bit of space to also not care.

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, I dawdled through my tasks before hustling back to the desk for check-ins. Relief flashed through me when I didn’t see any lists from Hunter waiting for me. Hopefully, that didn’t mean he was going to walk around the lodge, tearing stuff down and tossing it like I’d blurted out. But I caught a glimpse of him doing Mable’s bidding in the kitchen, so I figured the rest of the lodge’s ugly accessories had a brief reprieve.

---