Katie’s jaw hit the floor. “Uh-”
“Kidding.” Annie flashed a grin. “Sorry. But if someone wants to rent a snowmobile, you can handle that, right?”
“Sure,” she said much more confidently than she felt. Rent a snowmobile, maybe. Drive one? She was barely back to driving a car…
Baby steps. This was just one baby step in a series of many, all heading toward the goal of risking, living. Balls out, baby. “No problem.”
“Okay, so the lodge.” Annie pointed to a wide hallway off to the right of the living room. “You’ve seen it all by now. The wing of eight guest rooms, the crew that comes in from Wishful to clean…they’ll probably come by your desk for a check today. Pay them or they won’t come back.” Annie pointed to the opposite hallway off to the left, where there was a movie room, the dining room, and a huge kitchen. “Sometimes I hire additional help from town, like today. They’ll want to be paid as well.”
“Got it.”
Annie pointed to the portion of the living room done up like an old western bar, where if there were overnight guests, it could get really hopping. “And whoever comes in to bartend tonight will want to be paid as well. Okay, gotta go.”
“Wait. Month end?”
“I have no idea, but if Stone does it, it can’t be that hard. Oh, and you’re not on our bank account yet, so he probably left you a few checks signed.”
“He left signed checks?” she asked, a little horrified.
Annie patted her hand. “Honey, this ain’t LA.”
“But someone could steal a check and wipe out your account.”
“Girl, you’re in the mountains now. If anyone came in here and tried to steal a check, someone would just shoot him.” She shook her head and laughed at the idea.
Katie didn’t, because holy crap, she didn’t actually think Annie was kidding. Her next words proved it.
“The shotgun’s in the closet upstairs, if you need it.”
“Ohmigod.”
“Just remember, Stone loves to read reports and stuff, so make sure to print everything out as you go-”
She broke off as a tall, lanky man in well-worn jeans and a tool belt walked into the room. It was Nick Alder, Wilder Adventures’s heli-pilot and mechanic. He was good-looking in a “been a ski bum for twenty years” sort of way. He had a mop of brown curls exploding on his head and matching brown eyes to go with the tanned face and easygoing stride, which came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Annie.
“Nick,” she said in a chilly voice that had Katie taking another look at the two of them. In the week she’d been here, she’d not seen them together before. The tension level was…interesting.
“Annie.” Nick, normally approachable and laid-back, looked extremely uncomfortable as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought you’d be…”
“Out of your hair?” The chef’s mouth curved, but her eyes were flashing…hurt? “No such luck. Stone needs you. Uh…” She took a quick glance at Katie, then turned back to Nick. “Something came up.”
“I already know,” Nick said.
“You know?” This clearly pissed her off.
Katie thought about warning poor Nick that there was a loaded shotgun just upstairs, but Annie spoke first. “You might have told me, Nick.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You told me not to tell you anything. You told me not to talk to you, remember?”
The sound Annie made spoke volumes on how she felt about that.
“Look, I’m sorry.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed. “You’re one sorry son-of-a-”
“If this is about the divorce papers-”
“It’s not. Or it wouldn’t be, if you’d just sign them!”
Nick rocked back on his heels and said nothing to that.
Katie tried to disappear into the floorboards.
And Annie just shook her head. “Oh, forget it. You’ll have to sign them eventually.” She turned to Katie. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any more time right now.”
In other words, go away. Message received. Leaving the two of them at their stalemate, Katie went up the stairs and into an open reception area. Her desk was huge and gorgeous, made from an old oak door tipped on its side. It was piled high with paperwork, and also held a computer and the usual office supplies.
Katie was a numbers girl. Before her accident, she’d been content working at an accounting firm. In that world, things needed to add up in order to make sense. Things fell in line and had a purpose.
But no longer. After the accident, life hadn’t balanced, no matter how hard she’d tried to get it to do so.
She pulled off her jacket, and as she did every morning, she looked at the wall. It was covered with awards for various world-class winter events: Winter X Games, Burton European Open, Olympics, and many more. There were shelves, too, filled with trophies, some stacked three thick.
All of them for one person-Cameron Wilder.
How she’d not placed that until now, she had no idea. The phone on her desk rang, and still staring in amazement at the wall that now made sense, she picked it up. “Wilder Adventures.”
“Katie, it’s Stone. I need you to grab the set of keys in your top right drawer, go out to the equipment garage, climb into the Sno-Cat, and start it. One of our neighbors is coming to borrow it, and it takes forever to warm that sucker up.”