“Sorry Nicolas,” Wesley, my friend and boss, says as I sit across the desk from him. “They’re still a no-go, but I appreciate your going above and beyond. I’ll remember that, and so will they.”

“What’s the problem?” I ask, wondering what happened. It was a pretty standard meeting with a sporting goods manufacturer. “The distribution network?”

Wesley nods. “They said our online network’s fine, but with Dick’s, Big 5, and a bunch of others out there being so much bigger with brick and mortar shopfronts, they can’t handcuff themselves to an exclusive contract.”

Shit. This sucks.

I was so certain that my proposal additions would get that manufacturer to choose ADRENALIN Sports. I’d been unsuccessful in person, sure, but I left the company headquarters with a handshake and a smile. I was certain the supplementary information should’ve had them choosing us. They are new on the market, and our company is tailored toward the outdoors ‘extreme’ sportsman.

Apparently, our market overlap doesn’t matter though. Thinking back to the initial vendor meeting, I wonder about the rough two-month streak I’ve been running on. My contract negotiations have gone to shit since that resort declined to sign with ADRENALIN, and my brain side-tracks to the night with Rose. I’d run into her that very night in the hotel bar, my brain initially focused on fixing the contract issue because that’s what I do. But we’d had amazing chemistry from the get-go and she’d been a welcome distraction from my fruitless strategizing.

We spent a fantastically hot night together, but when I woke in the soft morning light, it was to cold sheets and a Thank You note on the bedside table written on hotel stationery.

Not what I was expecting, honestly. I mean, I wasn’t expecting breakfast and warm goodbye kisses while Whitney Houston sings her ass off in the background, but then again, I’m not sure what I was expecting considering she lived in that area. I barely live anywhere since I’m always traveling, and we both have jobs that are time consuming.

Still, from that moment, I’ve run into bad luck after bad luck. I know half of it is my fault. I’m not focused. Rose was an angel, something never to be enjoyed again . . . and it’s tearing me up.

Wesley clears his throat, and I realize he’s waiting for a reply to his comment. Blinking, I try to quickly refocus. “Thanks, Wesley. I wish we’d landed that contract, but I’ll check in with the guys in the bullpen and see what else is on the horizon.”

Wesley waves it off, sliding a piece of paper across his desk to me. “No, I think we need to get you to clear your head some, break the bad luck you seem to have picked up. So I’ve got a mission for you. There’s a new upstart out in Oregon that’s doing well, especially considering there are so many adventure tour services there. It’s pretty far out, but that’s their niche . . . totally off-grid. They take their customers out, and the only way you know they fucking survive is when they come back. I’d love for you to go up and be our initial contact, see what we can place in their hands to get our name on their tours because they’re getting some hot publicity. The official supplier for these guys? That’s the sort of shit ADRENALIN can use right now. Ironic that an off-grid company is buzzing all over social media, but that’s the nature of the beast, I guess, and it’s getting customers to them in droves.”

I lean back, thinking that Wes’s idea is exactly what I need, away from the norm. “Sounds interesting. I might even take a day or two off-grid myself, see what exactly they do, pitch it to them as a way to make sure we can tailor our stuff to meet their needs.”

Honestly, I’m just spouting bullshit because I just want to get out for a while. But this project sounds like my idea of heaven. While I usually have to wear a suit and tie for work, my heart lies outdoors in the woods, in the wild, roughing it up and living off the land. My favorite fantasy would be to head out with a good knife, a bow, and a tiny backpack of supplies. All I need for a week of utter bliss.

Wesley smiles and raps his knuckles on his desk. “I’d say that’s why you’ve always been my best sales guy, but I know you’re not doing it out of the goodness of your heart for the company. You’re out for a nature walkabout, aren’t you?”

I shrug, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, a little time outdoors always does the spirit good. And you’re right, I’ll be able to shake off this bad luck. I’ve just been a little off my game since that meeting with the people at the ski resort.”

Wesley smirks. “I still think it’s because you can’t shake the girl.”

I feel heat creep up my neck, but I don’t really have a sharp comeback for him. The week after coming back, I told him about my night with Rose—not all of the dirty details of course, but that I met someone sexy and brilliant and talking through the proposal with her had actually resulted in a few of the additions I’d made.

The contract for the Mountain Spirit resort might not have gone through, but her input was invaluable to me, and Rose has been on my mind ever since.

Trying to brush off his comment, I give Wes the finger. “Fuck you, man. Yeah, that was a good night, but you know how life is. Still, not everyday I meet a woman that smart and gorgeous.”

Wesley, who married his college sweetheart and has been happy about it every day since, shrugs. “Maybe your walkabout can give you a few ideas for your upcoming vacation? Hell, you could head out there for a repeat performance.”

I smile, shaking my head. “While that could be fun, I’m not sure I want to risk ruining a great memory when she obviously left the next morning with no intention of seeing me again. It’s just that sort of night that you can never, ever live up to again. It was just that, a night to remember forever.”

Wesley shakes his head. For a man who’s an executive, I swear he’s a lot more idealistic than I am. “Then maybe you’ll meet some little Earth-loving lady out in the wilds on your trip. Can I give you a hint?”

I look at him expectantly, ready for the joke because I know him and that’s where this is going. When ideas don’t work, resort to humor, usually the closer to frat house humor, the better. He’s just lucky everyone working directly for him is a guy who isn’t going to get offended at his occasional comments. “What?”

“If she doesn’t shave her pits, there’s no lady garden tending either. Full 70s bush, guaranteed.”

There’s a half-beat of silence and then we both burst out laughing. “Thanks for the tip, man. But I’m not looking for anything right now, bare or hair. Just some work, some relaxation, and then I’ll be back, hopefully with a new deal with our off-grid tour company.”