Page 49 of Wild Promise

Before I could recover, he pulled me back in for another kiss, and the taste of myself on his tongue wiped every coherent thought from my head.

“Why?” he asked, breaking the spell.

“Why what?”

“Hot chocolate,” he said through a low, sexy chuckle. “I have it, but why did you want to know?”

“Oh.” I breathed, thankful for the change in direction. “It’s the perfect match for snickerdoodles.”

“Sounds good, but you need to get off my lap now.” He swatted me lightly on the butt, that wicked look still gracing his too-handsome face. “As tempting as it is, the only driving I can do from this position will not get you to work on time.”

“Sorry,” I murmured as I hoisted myself back into my own seat, smoothing the invisible wrinkles from my dress and securing the belt across my lap.

Zane fixed his seat, and I pulled down the vanity mirror to fix my makeup.

“Melina?” He shifted the truck into drive and checked his blind spot as he pulled back onto the road. Then, turning to me, he quickly caught my eye. “I’m still not sorry at all.”

The air stalled in my lungs.

I’d said it. The horrible word I dreaded. And even after what we’d just done, on the side of the damn road no less, the only thing I could think was how badly I wanted to do it again.

Clearing my throat, I looked back to my reflection and said, “Oh, I don’t know…looks like you might have one very big, very hard regret over there.”

Boisterous laughter filled the cab of his truck, and by the time he dropped me at the front door of the hotel, I’d forgotten all about my blunder, and every other bad part of that morning.

I walked into the guest services office with a lingering smile and fifteen minutes to spare.

After a quick cleanup in the staff washroom and a few minutes reviewing my prepared notes, I gathered my materials and my bolstered confidence and strode toward the resort manager’s office.

The door was open, but I knocked anyway, wanting to maintain my decorum. My hand fell away after only one short tap when I noticed Becky sitting in the office with Wyatt and Lydia.

“Melina!” Wyatt called, gesturing for me to enter. “We were just talking about you.”

My stomach pitched and my courage wavered as I carried myself forward on shaking legs.

“Have a seat.” Lydia motioned to the empty chair beside her, and I wanted to drop at her feet in mercy.

“Thank you.” I somehow managed to keep my voice steady. “How is everyone this morning?”

“Good, good,” Wyatt said, waving a hand like my formality was inconsequential. “As I said, we were just talking about you. Becky here seemed convinced you wouldn’t make it to the meeting on time.”

Her brightly painted red lips stretched with an overly fake smile, making me want to wipe the floor with her face.

Frustration simmered deep in my belly, but the smile I shot her in return was genuine. Because in that moment, something clicked.

No matter how many stunts she tried to pull, I was the winner here. I didn’t need to rely on underhandedness or attempt to cause drama the way she did. We might both be a little desperate to impress, but I would always be better at this job. I’d earned that. Every late night, every extra hour, every weekend I’d sacrificed—it added up to something Becky couldn’t fake or steal.

“Well, I did have some car trouble this morning.” I crossed my legs, relaxing into my seat. “But I was lucky enough to have a coworker help me out with a ride so I could make it here on time.”

“Terrific,” Wyatt exclaimed, his booming voice echoing in the small room. “I love hearing stories about great teamwork. May I ask who it was?”

My smile faltered. Could they read the truth simply from the look on my face? “Oh. It was Zane. Um, Zane Alexander.”

“Really?” Wyatt chuckled. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” I didn’t know what he meant by the comment, and I was too afraid to ask. But it didn’t matter because he’d already moved on. “Thank you for your assistance, Becky. You can go now. Melina will take it from here.”

Becky skulked away, and something inside of me switched on, shutting out all my personal worries and unwarranted fears. The event came to life as I presented it to them, my passion for the work taking over as though I were possessed.

Every detail I’d agonized over, every contingency plan, every creative solution I’d fought for—it all poured out of me with a clarity and conviction I hadn’t known I was capable of. This wasn’t just a presentation. It was proof. Proof that I belonged here, that I’d earned this, that every sacrifice had been worth it.