Page 97 of Beastly Mountain Man

“You’re welcome.”

She carried the tote herself when we went back outside.

Once everything was loaded, we stood behind the Audi with the hatch still open. Her suitcase was secured beside her work bag, with the canvas bag tucked between them. The resort gear would ride on top until she stopped at the lodge to return it.

Caprice rested one hand on the edge of the hatch but didn’t close it.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m supposed to say here.”

“You don’t have to say the perfect thing.”

“I know. That is both comforting and deeply inconvenient.”

I waited.

She looked past me toward the rental cabin.

“When I got here, I had four days I was supposed to be away from work, and my entire plan was to spend them proving I could still be useful to people who had specifically been told to manage without me.”

“I remember the laptop.”

“You saw enough of it.”

“I also saw you close it.”

Caprice nodded. “I’m going back because I love my job. That hasn’t changed, and I don’t want it to.”

“I don’t want it to either.”

Her eyes met mine again.

“What has changed is that I don’t want to go back and disappear into it until I’ve earned the right to have a life again. I don’t know exactly what the new version looks like yet. Glenn and I haven’t worked out the authority structure. I don’t know what my next production will require. I don’t know how often I’ll have to be physically on set, and I’m not going to stand in your driveway and promise dates I haven’t checked.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I need you to let me finish before you make this easy.”

I smiled slightly. “All right.”

Caprice took a breath.

“I can promise that when I get home, I’m going to call you. I’m going to do the work that actually belongs to me, and I’m going to make other people keep the authority I give them instead of taking it back the second I get uncomfortable. I’m not waiting until I’ve solved every scheduling problem that might possibly exist for the next six months before I see you again.”

That was more than I had expected her to say.

She stepped closer.

“I have spent most of my adult life acting like I shouldn’t commit to anything unless I already know how I’m going to handle every possible outcome. I can’t do that with us, Lucky. I don’t know all the logistics yet.”

“You don’t need to know them today.”

“I know.” A small smile touched her mouth. “I’m starting to believe that.”

I put my hands at her waist.

“What I need from you isn’t a calendar. I want you back because you want to come back. I want the woman who loves her job, who can run a production from a dining table, who argues with fireplace instructions, and who still thinks she can negotiate with my dog.”

“I was making progress with Bear.”