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She scoffs in disgust and shakes her head. “You’re welcome to take the tour by yourself. I have work to do, so just stay out of my way, you arrogant asshole,” she says irately.
As she brushes past me, I can’t help but stare at her ass as she walks away. Her hips sway from side to side, and as much as I don’t want to feel attracted to her, I just can’t help myself.
“Does your boss know what a bitch you are?” I call out to her.
I watch her ascend the stairs, wondering if she’s heading to her room or if she simply picked a random direction to get as far away from me as possible. Either way, I’m loving the view even more than the snow-covered mountains.
Clearly, she can’t stand me within five minutes of meeting me. And she made it perfectly clear that I stay out of her way.
Well, I can’t promise that since we’re in the same resort, doing the same work. Our paths are bound to cross sooner or later.
Of course, she wants me to stay out of her way, which is exactly what I’m not going to do. I’m not sure why I feel the need to go out of my way to run into her. But I think it’s the clear disdain she has for me that’s fueling this fire inside me.
That, and the fact that she managed to awaken a rock-hard erection inside my pants with her feistiness.
THREE
~ Kinsley ~
It’s not the first time I’ve been called a bitch, and it most definitely won’t be the last.
Usually, it doesn’t affect me, but there’s something about Anson’s tone that struck a chord inside me. He doesn’t even know me and has already called me a bitch.
Oh well.
I march down the hallway, past my room, and roam around the hotel. My knowledge and experience in inspecting properties have become second nature to me, so I don’t even need to make notes. If there’s something noteworthy, I can just come back to it.
I try to calm myself down by taking deep breaths as I walk through the hallway. I swear I’m so livid right now that I can strangle him with my bare hands. But I also need to keep my composure. I am a professional, after all, and I don’t want Anson to report back that I was being rude and dragged Zephyr’s name through the mud. But I’m guessing regardless of how I behave at this point, Anson is bound to talk shit about me.
I have to admit. I didn’t expect him to be so attractive. I’ve never bothered to look him up online, as I never needed to do so. I honestly thought he would be a much older guy, but I was clearly wrong. Why does he have to be so damn hot?
I shake my head in disapproval as I head back to my room, feeling irrationally hungry. Maybe that’s why I’m in such a mood. Still, Anson’s patronizing comments weren’t appreciated.
I open my bag and take out the dinner I packed, setting it on the bed. I pour myself a glass of wine and reach for the television remote. At my apartment in New York, having a glass of wine with dinner while watching the news is my usual evening routine, making me feel a little more at home. I enjoy my chicken salad dinner with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, feta, and olives. I also packed two small dinner rolls, fresh pastrami, and mozzarella slices. A bottle of chardonnay added to my meal makes it perfect.
I make myself comfortable on the bed, eating my dinner while watching the evening news. Gas prices are rising, the president did something that some of his supporters don’t approve of, causing a protest, and the Kansas police raided a house with over a million dollars worth of Meth and Ecstasy inside. I let out a sigh and take a sip of my wine, already feeling tired. It must have been the helicopter ride, or maybe it’s the altitude that’s making me feel like this. Either way, I don’t like it. I still have a couple of hours that I want to use to look around the hotel. It’s still light outside, but I’ll take a walk around the grounds in the morning. This situation with Anson has me feeling a little tense and tired, so I guess I’ll do most of my inspection tomorrow morning.
“If you’re in the area of the Colorado mountains, you better bring in your pets, stay indoors and keep warm,” the newscaster says on the television, and my interest is instantly piqued.
“That’s right, John,” the female newscaster says. “There’s a category three blizzard heading straight for the Colorado mountains, and it’s expected within the next five days. Gale force winds and a snow storm with almost zero visibility.”
“That sounds rough, Susan.”
“It does, John. It will be one of the worst blizzards the region has ever seen, or will ever see.”
“And your advice to the people in the region?” John asks and turns to Susan.
“If you can, get out,” Susan chuckles. “But seriously. It’s one of the worst blizzards that will ever hit, so if you can, leave the area. If you can’t, stock up on food and water, lock yourself in your home, and keep warm.”
“Great advice. Thank you, Susan.”
“Well, you heard it here first, folks,” John says. “Up next is Trevor with this week’s sports results.”
I switch the television off and run my fingers through my hair. “Good thing I’m out of here in the morning. I wouldn’t want to be stuck here with Asshole Mallard,” I mutter.
I drink the last of my wine and slide off the bed. I throw my trash into the bin in the corner of the room, and a slight chill runs up my spine. I look around the room, and it feels a bit cold. Has it been this cold the entire time?
I rub my arm and grab a sweater from my suitcase. After slipping it on, I walk to the thermostat and study it. It looks slightly different from mine in my apartment, and my brow furrows.
