Page 13 of Grumpy Bear

I couldn’t work with somebody peering into me like that. Trying to get to know me.

Fuck. I hoped he wasn’t planning to come at me with his own brand of positivity.

Jim had probably conjured him. I was sure to get an earful about how dreamy Luke was when I met Jim for dinner.

Luke Cody was not my type. Another musician? Hell no. Younger than me? No thanks. An employee? I wasn’t messing with that.

He was too fucking pretty anyway.

On big weekends like this one, there were hundreds of men walking around buck-ass naked right outside my door if I felt the need.

My rule was, if I was into somebody, I’d find out when his last night on the property was, and we’d hook up right before he left.

That might happen with a guest who was passing through or maybe—maybe—with a staff member who was moving on to a new job.

But mostly, I couldn’t be bothered anymore. Since Wayne had left me this place, I had way more than enough on my plate. These days, naked horny men looking for love and action were strictly business to me.

Now, if—and that’s a huge impossible if—we could skip all the cruising and dating and go straight to loyal husband and dependable business partner… I might consider it.

But holding out hope for a unicorn like that? It took too much energy. It would have to be a miracle anyway. Miracles were supposed to just happen, so there was no point in actively seeking one.

When you invested in that kind of fantasy, part of your brain was always scanning, scanning, scanning like the search for extraterrestrial intelligence. It was draining. My radio telescope array had finally gone quiet—thank God—and I wasn’t about to turn it back on.

Why the fuck was I even thinking about any of this?

Jim and his goddamn vibes.

I paced around my one-room shack, carefully not thinking about how Surfer Cowboy might be doing with the tent. I was grateful for the bag of clean laundry that needed to be put away, but folding T-shirts and pairing socks killed all of three minutes. I was staring at the floor wondering if Austin had ever shown up and pretending I wasn’t hiding or still thinking about helping Luke when I saw a flash of blond hair out the window.

Luke was kicking leaves and sticks and rocks off a large patch of moss between the bunkhouse and my front porch. Right next door to my cabin. He was alone.

Fuck.

I stepped out from the shade of my covered porch to watch him work, relieved to see he at least knew what he was doing with the tent. His lips parted as he concentrated on threading a pole through a sleeve. He was a little soft and suburban looking, but it was clear he had some sense. He knew to stake a corner of the tent before trying to raise it by himself. That’s the number one thing most assholes got wrong.

Still, it was a hell of a lot easier if you had a second person to lift and hold from the opposite side. Getting the tarp up was never going to happen without another set of hands.

I sighed and called out to him. “What happened to Austin?”

Luke jumped, surprised I was there. “I don’t know.” He frowned and shielded his eyes, looking around like he might find the guy lost out in the woods. “Is it okay if I set it up here? I wasn’t sure. I figured I should stay near the bunkhouse… This is kind of the only level place without a lot of roots.”

He was right. There really wasn’t anywhere else near the other workers, and we wouldn’t want him taking up a premium spot closer to the pool that paying guests fought over. “This is fine.” I walked over and picked up the opposite end of the tent pole, holding it steady while he anchored his end.

Without a word, we both moved ninety degrees in unison to secure the other pole.

The first time I went tent camping with Wayne he told me you could tell a lot about a potential partner and the longevity of a relationship from the way you set up camp together. In all my years working at the lodge, I’d witnessed hundreds of instances of couples bickering over tents. I had to say Wayne’s theory proved to be true.

I did entirely take over for Luke when it came to putting up the tarp. He was easy to direct though. He anticipated my instructions, complied quickly, and didn’t get frustrated when we hit a snag or two.

And I’m an impatient, frustrating motherfucker. Or so I’ve been told.

When we finished, he tested out the yoga mats, squinting up at me. “It’s pretty comfortable.” He was as cute as a Cub Scout, lying back propped on his elbows with his shoes off and knees up. His hairy muscular legs were on full display, and I was staring right at the faded crotch of his denim shorts.

“I have an extra pillow and a sleeping bag in my cabin. I’ll leave it here for you later. After supper. Before you need it.”

He popped his head out the door flap and sighed, blowing a strand of blond hair off his face. “I wonder what happened to Austin.”

I snorted. “Guys have a tendency to disappear around here.”