Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Tina shakes her head. “Not very managerial.”
“Not managerial at all,” Tiffany unhelpfully adds.
I start blowing on the flames when suddenly, there’s a roar behind me and I’m engulfed in a white powdery cloud. It goes everywhere—in my ears, up my nose, in my mouth, and in my hair. I look like a snowwoman as I turn around.
Mikey Reynolds is holding a fire extinguisher and breathing heavily. He does not look relaxed. He does not look recharged. And he does not look like he’s having a nice vacation at the stunning Greene Mountain Lodge.
“Now, I’m really traumatized,” Mrs. Carter says with a firm nod. “I expect a full refund.”
“Fine,” I say with a huff of breath that sends a white cloud puffing out. “Whatever.”
It doesn’t matter anyway.
There’s no way I’m keeping my job after this.
Chapter Two
Lauren
With an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, I continue up the secluded mountain road that leads to Mr. Wallis’ house. I don’t want to do this. I want to turn around…
I begged Tina and Tiffany yesterday to help me break the bad news to the owner since I’ve never even met him, but they both refused.
“I’m not telling him,” Tina said, shaking her dumb head. “No way.”
“Part of a manager’s job is breaking bad news to the owner,” Tiffany added. “Think of it as practice for being a manager. At your next job, of course. You’re definitely getting fired for this.”
Tina nodded in agreement. “Yeah, setting your place of work on fire is career suicide.”
“How can I reach him?” I asked. “Do you know his phone number?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
Tina nodded. “Yeah, he’s up at his mountain house getting ready for spring.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Chopping wood. Throwing axes. You know, mountain man shit.”
“Mountain man shit?”
She nodded. “Mountain man shit.”
I gulp as I turn my car around the bend and see the steep incline. Mr. Wallis’ house is near the top of the mountain and surrounded by thick forest. It’s the end of March in Montana on one of those gorgeous spring days that let you know summer is around the corner. The snow is melting off the trees, giving everything a glistening look while the sun shines high in the sky.
The fluttery feeling in my gut gets stronger the higher I drive.
I’ve heard a few things about Mr. Wallis since I started working at the lodge. Apparently, he keeps to himself and is a bit of a recluse. He likes nature more than people, but the thing that really has me curious is his looks. Everyone says that he’s gorgeous. Like in the top one percent of hotness. That shouldn’t matter or change anything, but it’s still got me a little curious.
I just wish I was driving up here to give him good news. Instead, I have to let him know that I set the reception area on fire, comped the Aspen Suite without permission, gave a guest a full refund, burnt an adorable little girl’s favorite pair of mittens, and the icing on the cake is that the lodge is probably going to get a one-star review in The Luxury Traveller Magazine. Not the first impression I was hoping for.
“No,” I whisper to myself when I see the roof of his house peeking out of the trees in the distance. My foot moves to the brake and pushes down.
I stay here for a few seconds with my heart pounding until I get a hold of myself and continue on.
His house is amazing. Freaking amazing.
It’s a stunning log mansion with huge windows and a giant wrap-around balcony. The view from up there must be incredible. You can probably see all of Montana. I would kill to see the inside, but as soon as I tell him the shitty news, he’s probably going to immediately send me packing back down the road.
I pull up beside his big, expensive-looking black truck and turn off my engine.
“You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’re a strong confident businesswoman. You got this.”
I step out of the car and walk to the house with my shoulders back and my chin up, projecting the confidence that I’m not really feeling at the moment.
The hum of rock music and the rhythmic thunk of an ax slamming into wood every few seconds rings out from behind the house. I fix my hair and walk around to check it out.
That’s when I see him.
Owen Wallis.
My mouth drops as I stare at him in awe. I go numb all over. That’s Mr. Wallis? That’s my boss?
The man is standing outside in the snow shirtless. He balances a log on the chopping block, brings the ax up, and then slams it down hard. The log explodes apart.
He’s listening to Nine Inch Nails. I recognize it because my sister went through a phase when that’s all she would listen to.