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Right. I was going to kill Elvin. He’d kind of oversold Mikaly’s skillset.
“I guess we better get to work then. I need you to be an expert, and quick.”
Three
Mikaly
I had to work with Pete, but man, I wanted to date her. After we’d left her office earlier, she’d been all business. She gave me a list of items to retrieve off the shelves and to inspect. It really hadn’t taken long, but it had been a huge relief when I’d retired to my own office then gone to the ski storage to start inventorying the supplies there. That was familiar ground, at least.
Plus it kept Pete out of my line of sight. That woman distracted me without even meaning to. Besides being the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, confidence and competence exuded from her in waves. And that was sexier than anything else. I wanted to get to know her, to see where things might lead.
But I’d just come off a job where I’d been falsely accused of impropriety. I couldn’t mess up this opportunity to get my feet under me again.
“Hey,” she said, rapping her knuckles on the frame of my door and startling me. “Brought you this.” She held up a book. When she dropped it on my desk, I saw it was a wilderness survival guide. She nodded toward it. “It’s hardly comprehensive, but it’s a great start. Maybe, a little light reading, tonight.”
The edges of her mouth quivered upward before she managed to school her expression.
I lifted a brow before I peered down at the two-inch thick tome. “Did I say I could read?”
Her lips parted, and I knew I’d taken her by surprise. She started to say something then stopped. Twice.
“I’m joking,” I said, taking mercy on her. “I graduated college with honors, believe it or not.”
That startled people. I wasn’t sure why. Sure, I had the jock look about me and I’d been active in one sport or another since my dad put my first pint-sized football in my hands, but athletics weren’t my whole life. Some might argue otherwise, because of my job, but I’d taken academics seriously.
“Phew,” she breathed. “I thought I’d have to teach you that, too. A guide’s gotta be able to read warning signs.”
Oh…I was reading the signs. They told me to run from her dangerous curves. But if I were honest, those were warnings I’d probably ignore.
“If you’re about ready, I can take you over to your cabin,” she continued when I didn’t bite at her joke. “And I can show you the best place to eat around Sweetville, or… I could invite you over to dinner, since you probably don’t have supplies in your kitchen.”
“You’d be right on that. I wasn’t even sure what my lodging would look like. A hotplate and a cooler, a kitchenette, a full kitchen… Who knew? Until I saw what I was working with, I didn’t bring anything but a few jugs of water and some energy bars. So I’d welcome either option.”
Any time I could spend with her, actually.
Boy, I was really detouring away from the no fraternizing rule I’d set up in my head. I didn’t even know if that was a regulation at Sander’s Lodge.
There was just something about Pete, something different from any woman I’d ever met. Sure, on the surface, she matched many others I’d encountered over the years, but there was a spark about her, a draw I couldn’t explain. She matched until you took a moment to really take her in. Then you should see the vitality that seemed to glow around her like an aura.
Cheesy poetic? I guessed maybe, but I didn’t care. My little flower was just…unique. Intriguing. Alluring. And I’d stand in the way of any other man who even wanted to glimpse her sparkle.
Which sank an iron anchor into my gut. Did she have a man? She didn’t have a ring on her finger, but that didn’t mean anything. Not everyone wore a wedding ring, especially when said ring could be a danger on the job, getting caught on something. Or some women thought they were a sign of patriarchy. Or she could be engaged or seriously dating.
Each possibility twisted that weight deeper into my flesh.
“You okay?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm. I hadn’t even realized I’d stood and rounded my desk until she touched me. “You look ill.”
“Fine. Do you have a Mr. Pete waiting for you at home? Should I run out for a case of beer or something?”
“I have beer at my place, but no Mr. Pete. Sorry. No future Mr. Pete, either.”
Yet.
Whether she realized it or not, those words had sealed her fate.
“You like pasta?” she asked. “Or are you a no-carb kinda guy. I guess I could fill you up on meatballs…”
“Pasta’s fine. My mom’s side of the family is full-on Italian, and my mom is a first generation American. If I said I didn’t like pasta, my nonna would come after me with her wooden spoon.”
