13
December 14, 2026
Greg Bryant leaned over his partitioned desk and yelled, “We’ve got a grown man with his tongue stuck to the ski-lift pole. Who’s going to take this one?”
Three haggard patrollers looked up from the communal table. Greg had been running his team hard, and they looked like they had just been caught conspiring to kill him.
Of course the resort had to have eight patrollers out sick on the busiest days of the year.
Bowls of cheap soup wafted steam before each patroller’s disgruntled expression. One of his guys quickly lowered a bottle from his lips.
“Yo, Terry. That better be root beer, man!” Greg growled. “You’re on the clock another”—he looked over—“three minutes.”
“Cream soda.” Terry turned the label away from Greg and shot him a saucy wink.
Greg looked up to the ceiling and prayed for patience.
“Where’s everyone for the next shift?” Sandy called before blowing on her own bowl.
“Not here yet, or already out. Who’s going?”
“Just let him go around the ski lift a couple more times,” Sandy mumbled to Terry.
“Sandy, you’re up. Go!” Greg called.
Karla, the third patroller at the table, sighed. “I’ll go.”
“Nope, Sandy’s going. Put some warm water in a thermos and head off, Sandy.” Greg ignored Sandy’s loud muttering and ducked back behind his partition.
He was ready—damn ready—to get off this shift and away from this pack of complainers for the rest of the night.
“We could do with some more good people.”
Greg looked up to see Karla leaning against his partition wall. Glossy black hair framed her oval face. She smirked down at him, glossed lips puckering.
He was her boss. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at her lips or hips—and definitely not at her ass when she turned to walk away from him.
He focused back on his computer screen. “We’ve got a pretty full team.”
“Of newbies, who are always sick,” she said. “We’ve got maybe twelve serious patrollers here; that’s four per shift. At this rate, they’ll definitely replace us with the automatons.”
“Karla,” he said with a sigh. “You want the newbies to be better? Keep on helping them train.”
“I thought you said Clarence, Alainn, and Brody were coming back?” The way she tilted her head was definitely indicative of a challenge.
He knew he should tell her off. Instead, he imagined pulling her into his lap and kissing her attitude away. So inappropriate. He spent all of his concentration forcing himself to focus back on his computer screen.
“As far as I know, Brody and Alainn are coming back.” He grinned and looked up. “And you are officially off shift.”
Her challenging look stayed on her beautiful face. “Does that mean I can take you out for a drink?”
A wide grin forced its way onto his face. He met her gaze, feeling the heat he’d been trying to bury for two seasons now between them. “I’m not off shift—yet. I have to stay late today.”
“Oh, too bad,” she said, a teasing note lacing her voice as she stepped back from the partition.
He wanted to ask, “Another time?” so much he could taste the words on his tongue. Once more, he forced his gaze back to his glowing screen. “You guys have a good night. Stay warm.”
“Maybe,” Karla said, before stepping away.
Work things . . . concentrate on work things.
Overriding his entire force of will, Greg glanced up and looked at Karla’s ass as she walked away.
Damn it.
He rubbed his buzzed head and turned back to the screen, which had been blank the entire time. Hopefully, Karla hadn’t noticed as she stood over him. As he actually was off the clock, he just needed to look like he was working—at least until Karla left. Greg pulled up his e-mail.
He combed through his inbox, looking for a message from Alainn. And, now he was thinking of Alainn, yet another woman who’d been driving him insane.
His closest friend and roommate of five years had not just flaked on the busiest week of the season, she’d flat out disappeared.
Greg had been getting daily rant e-mails from her about her dad, the creepy robot in her house, and the fact that no one was trying to fix their predicament. The day Alainn’s father was supposed to go to prison, though, the e-mails just stopped. It’d been almost two weeks, and he hadn’t had a single new message.
He wanted Alainn there. And not just because she was a good patroller most of the time, but also because she would have been able to tell him what was going on in Karla’s head. Alainn was good at that girl stuff—and Greg had no idea if Karla was seriously into him or not. Also, he was floating Alainn’s portion of the rent in the cabin they shared with a couple of other patrollers. Annoying as it was, he wasn’t ready to replace her as a roommate. He’d had offers, but Greg wasn’t quite ready to give up on her yet.
A ding sounded, and his e-mail inbox showed one new message. Greg scrolled up and read the title. Leaning in and squinting, he read the title again.
Oh, hell no.
He’d been thinking of Alainn and just like that her name had appeared, but definitely not for the reason he’d been hoping.