Don't mind me. Just having a fucking mid-life crisis about a decade too early.
Oh fuck. Was West right about men's biological clocks ticking earlier with the advancement of technology? I usually only half-listen to the man's nonsense. He's my best friend, but he talks more than anyone I've ever met.
"Welcome," I manage to get out. I sound more like a robot than an alien, so I take that as a win of sorts.
Hartley's cheeks redden, and she tucks an errant strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear before responding in a breathy whisper, "Thank you."
She's tall, but even in her heels, she has to look up at me through those long, dark lashes that frame her hazel eyes. She bites her lip, her breath catching as her gaze bounces to my mouth and back to my eyes before she looks away and quickly steps back.
"I-I've taken a look at the schedule for the rest of the year." She glances down at her notebook and back to me with a shy smile. "I have some questions and notes to go through, if you have time."
"Susan will help you." I grit out.
I turn abruptly and head for the elevator. It takes too long, so I bolt up the stairs a full five floors before leaning against the wall to calm down.
Off limits, Maloney.
Yeah, tell that to our heart, dick.
Chapter 2
Hartley
Two months later…
"Oh, shit. Come on, Little Louise. You can do it."
My car chugs up the winding mountain road, and I'm suddenly aware of what a horrible idea this was on an already bad day. Between getting a terrible night's sleep and running around all morning to confirm vendors for the Firelight Games tomorrow, I shouldn't have tried to squeeze this in. Especially without reliable transportation. I haven't driven much over the past few months since arriving in Festival Valley, but my car is not built for mountain driving even on its best days.
Well, this will for sure impress Mr. Maloney.What was I thinking?
A frigid rainstorm is in the forecast for tonight, and I’m completely unprepared if my car breaks down. I thought I'd be back in plenty of time, so I didn't pack any safety provisions. At least I stopped by my place and grabbed my warm coat. I assess the thickness of the sleeve between my thumb and forefinger.Will this keep me warm enough if I have to sleep in my car tonight? Judging by the drop in temperature over the last few miles, the answer to that question is a big fatno.
Regardless of the safety concerns, the thought of not making it back down the mountain to finish setting up for the Firelight Games makes me ill. My team is amazing, and they have a detailed schematic of the entire event, but I need everything to be perfect. It's my first event of this scale atThe Palmer, and I have to make a good impression on my boss.
I lean forward, squinting through the windshield, searching for some kind of opening in the thick brush. I notice a little path off to the right at a turnoff up ahead.
Is this what he meant?
“He” being Bradford Maloney, CEO ofThe Palmer Resort & Spa, and my boss, who casually mentioned a vague location up the mountain that might be perfect for a future event, and I decided to run with it. Impress him by taking the initiative. Because he barely knows I exist. Frankly, I've come to view his executive assistant, Susan, as my supervisor since Mr. Maloney refuses to take one-on-one meetings with me or look in my general direction.
Pulling over, I park my car near the start of the path. I bite my lip and get out my phone, typing out a quick message.
Hey. I think I found the spot Maloney mentioned at the all-staff meeting. Is there a little trail out to the clearing that I have to follow, or should the whole thing be visible from the road?
The three dots blink in response as Celeste Blazewood, assistant manager of the resort and a real-life Festival Valley townie, types a response to me. She and the rest of the extensiveBlazewood family grew up here. Celeste knows everything about this mountain.
Celeste
You should be able to see it from the road.
Wait, are you up there right now? I figured you'd be going crazy getting set up for the event tomorrow.
Yep. A terrible idea.
I thought maybe the Dawson Wildflower Art Show this spring would be good here.
If I run into Mr. Maloney tomorrow, I plan to tell him I've seen the spot and give him my recommendations.
