Page 94 of Beastly Mountain Man

Caprice stepped into me and slid her hands beneath the open sides of my work jacket.

The contact was warm through my thermal shirt.

“Go check your road before I decide there’s a legitimate property emergency requiring several more hours of personal attention.”

“That would be an abuse of the agreement.”

“I know. That’s why I haven’t invented one.”

I bent and kissed her.

This one lasted longer than the kiss in the kitchen. Caprice’s fingers tightened against my sides, and I had to remind myself that if I let the kiss become what I wanted it to become, neither of us would be checking a road anytime soon.

When I lifted my head, she was still close enough that her breath touched my beard.

“That was not helpful,” she said.

“I wasn’t trying to help.”

“At least you’re honest.”

I kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be back soon.”

Caprice’s hands slid away from my waist. “I’ll be here.”

I took the truck down from Upper Ridge.

The crew had done good work. Fresh snowbanks rose along the cleared road, and sand showed dark against the packed surface on the steeper sections. The shaded curve below the upper rentals had been scraped back until the tires found solid traction instead of loose buildup.

I drove the full route down to the maintained lower section without losing grip once.

One of the crew trucks was still widening a turnout farther below. I stopped long enough to confirm the lower resort road had already reopened, then turned around and drove back up the same way Caprice would be coming down.

The truck climbed cleanly.

There was no reason to keep her there.

By the time I reached the rental again, Caprice had moved every bag to the entry. Her laptop, tablet, charger, headphones, notebook, and work bag were packed away. The dining table where she had built a temporary production office on the first evening was empty except for the welcome folder and her key packet.

I noticed that before I noticed anything else.

The room looked less like hers already.

Caprice came out of the hallway with the bag containing the resort snow gear.

“How is it?”

“Safe. The crew finished everything they were supposed to finish, and the lower road is open. I drove it both directions.”

Relief moved across her face before something more complicated replaced it.

“Then I guess we’ve officially run out of weather. Very inconsiderate of Montana.”

“Looks that way. We can file a complaint.”

“I’ll draft something strongly worded.”

I picked up her suitcase. “Let’s get your car ready before the sun softens the top layer and everything starts sliding off the roof at once.”