Chapter Seven
“No. You’re not coming in.”
Rolf set down the electric razor he’d been using to clean up the edges of his beard, cocking his head as he heard Glory in the hall.
“I said no. You’re not getting any. Get lost.”
If that asshat dirt scientist was trying to—
He strode across his room and snapped open his door.
Glory had a coffee mug in one hand, a plate in the other, and was trying to keep Trigg’s dog from following her into her room. She wore pajamas beneath one of her oversized cardigans. It had fallen open so he could see the snug leggings in shades of blue and gray with white snowflakes. They clung across her hips and down her lithe thighs to outline the curve of her calves. Her matching top had three buttons that drew the eye to where the ribbed material cupped the soft mounds of her braless breasts. Her hair was out of its clip more than in, her feet stuffed into sheepskin boots.
“Can you grab him?”
He snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor beside his door. Then he swallowed. His mouth was watering. His morning wood returned with a vengeance, protesting the restriction of his jeans.
The dopey dog turned a few circles, trying to decide if he wanted to obey Rolf or beg from Glory. Her gaze tracked the dog as he paced toward Rolf, struck Rolf’s crotch, then swung away.
Her eyes bulged and she blushed bright red.
“Thanks.” She started to turn and elbow her door closed, but the dog quickly followed, goosing her with his nose. “Oh, come on,” she muttered, jerking back from the coffee that sloshed as she reacted with a jolt.
“Sit.” Rolf crossed to make the dog do as he said, which put him in the aroma of fresh coffee and cinnamon toast surrounding Glory. Good coffee along with an earthy, feminine scent that made him think of waking up in tangled sheets that weren’t his own.
What the hell was this woman doing to him?
“How do you have coffee?” He heard a gruff strain in his tone as he tried to ignore his body’s reaction. “The machine is electric.” And the coffee from it vile.
“I boiled water on the camp stove and ran it through the filter on my drip brewer. I’d hurry if I were you. It was going fast.” She avoided his gaze, cheeks still pink beneath the red-gold ripples of her hair.
He noticed her nipples were standing up beneath the fabric of her top. His cock strained harder.
“You have a personal coffeemaker?” He knew he had smelled coffee up here in the mornings. It had made that swamp water downstairs even less tolerable.
“Yeah. Thanks.” She nodded at the dog and used her knee to close her door on them.
The dog whined and pawed at the crack.
Rolf crossed to shut his own door, then urged the dog to come with him downstairs. He could already hear typing coming from Glory’s room. He often heard her doing that in the mornings. She’d been typing last night, when she had said she was coming up to read.
Last night, Marvin had made it sound like Glory spent a lot of time in chat rooms, flogging her mother’s books. No wonder the old man was trying to get her working a real job.
It wasn’t his place to interfere, obviously, but Rolf had a lot of requests he’d held off making because he’d thought the two of them had their hands full. If she had nothing but time, however, he’d be happy to fill it.
*
“Rolf is bringing in weights and other equipment from Wikinger. He’s supplying it no charge, but wants a gym sooner than later. I said we could swing Devon’s crew from the laundry to fixing up storage room downstairs. Apparently, it needs a special floor.”
“No. Dad. I need a washer and dryer on site.” She had lugged bedding and linens to the laundromat in Haven twice now. She wasn’t doing it again.
“The road will be open tomorrow. You’ll be able to get your car all the way up here. It won’t be such a chore to take everything into town.”
“It won’t be a chore at all if Rolf does his workouts in Haven and Devon finishes the laundry room.”
“He wants to work out here. He’s the customer,” he reminded her. “And this way we have an amenity that costs us next to nothing to put in.”
How could she argue when her father was getting a ‘deal’?
That was Monday. On Tuesday, Rolf sent her an email that said, “My room needs attention.”
She shot back a response that she was hoping to hire a housekeeper to start this weekend. He went to her father with his request to have the dog hair vacuumed off his floor and his sink rinsed.
“Can you give his room a spit-polish?” her father said with a pained frown when she tried to put him off. “We’re going to have another six rooms filled once that road opens. That’ll pay for the housekeeper and the cook. Keep him happy, would you?”
That was the problem. No matter what she did, Rolf wasn’t happy. She imagined that all her little stresses were nothing compared to the money he was throwing away on generators and flying in people who couldn’t work because snow fell as often as it started to melt. The weather was downright bipolar and she’d heard him growling at someone about something that was backordered, so maybe he was entitled to be owly.
He didn’t have to take it out on her, though.
She was taking it personally because she had thought—oh, hell, she didn’t know what she thought. Trigg had made that stupid remark about Rolf looking at her butt and put ideas into her head. Then Rolf had had a giant Woodrow the morning after the power outage. She wasn’t all about huge dicks, but had to admit she’d been more intrigued than offended, if embarrassed as hell for noticing.
She was attracted to Rolf. Couldn’t help it. He was a bear of a man. A lion with a thorn. An arrogant alpha male who acted like he owned the place, but she found that kind of fascinating. The writer in her did. She kept trying to tell herself that’s all it was—a character study.
But for some stupid reason, she kind of wanted him to notice her. To respect her. In her mind, they were, if not equals, at least walking parallel paths. They were both trying to eat an elephant one bite at a time. She was willing to do what she could to support him in his big project. She wanted that same regard from him. Appreciation. A shred of acknowledgment.
He barely noticed her. When he did speak to her, he treated her like the hired help. “Do you have bags for personal laundry? I want to add mine to the bedding going to the laundromat.”
He really expected her to fold his shorts?
He’s our guest, she could hear her father saying, and forced her warmest smile. “I’ll find you one.”
‘Kill him with kindness’ became her motto. Maybe it bordered on passive-aggressive, but more flies with honey and all that. She set aside his favorite sandwich and drew a happy face on the sticky note that said, “Please approve these expenses.” She also fed and walked the dog now that Trigg was gone, keeping an eye on him more often than Rolf did. He only took Murphy at night, or when he went to the base of the mountain where, rumor had it, they were trying to clear out debris and burn down the slash.
She cleaned his room herself and left a chocolate on his freaking pillow.
All the while, she tracked the ever-increasing expenses on the lodge renovation as well as issued payroll to the ever-increasing staff. She hired kitchen and housekeeping help only to have the cook quit so she could start the process all over again. She answered Devon’s hourly, “What do you want to do here?” inquiries and forced a smile whenever her father said, “Glory can help you with that.”
She drove into Haven every second day, it seemed, picking up whatever was needed.
In between all of that, she ran a promotion on two of her mother’s books, one of which didn’t move the dial, which disheartened her. She also updated three books with fresh back matter, then revised the drip campaign and scheduled some blog posts and other social media.
The momentum on sales and income had plateaued after her mother’s death and was now officially declining. That worried her, especially since she wasn’t making much progress on a fresh title. The one morning she felt caught up and thought she could finally settle into writing for a few hours, the frigging espresso maker arrived.
She almost screamed. Especially when Rolf stood over her as she put it together, reading the instructions and telling her what to do seconds before she started to do it. She bit her tongue, got it operating, then made six crappy cups of coffee before she got the hang of it.
He had walked away by that time, grumbling over the ‘swamp water’ she had given him.
The busy days began to take a toll. She knew she was getting burned out, not sleeping enough. She kept thinking things would settle down soon, but more people kept arriving on site, especially now the road was open. People showed up just to look around. They expected lunch in the dining room and it wasn’t even licensed. It was operating as a camp kitchen for staff, with buffet-style meals and punch cards.
She was brittle as an autumn leaf when she woke to a dreary day of low skies. Her period arrived and yes, that was more freaking snow. People from across the country were posting lilacs and apple blossoms. College kids in Florida were already home from Spring Break, tans fading. How was it still snowing here?
“That’s why this is the perfect location for a ski hill, Glory dear,” her father said when she knocked on his door, hoping to catch him before he went into the dining room. His room was a mini apartment on the ground floor, past the manager’s office and across from the kitchen. His kitchenette was torn out, his private living room an empty space of bare subfloor. He sat on the edge of his bed to tug on his black socks. “Otherwise this would be a water skiing resort.”
She so wasn’t in the mood for lame humor.
“Dad—” The date had snuck up on her, but now it was here, she was feeling it. “Can we have a down day? Go somewhere?”
He lifted his hands to indicate the window and the wilderness beyond it. “Where would we go? Every day is a vacation here.” He’d lost weight and gained some muscle. In between the snowy ones, sunny days had tanned his face and arms. He looked ten years younger and happy.
She shouldn’t begrudge him that, but kind of resented he was in such a good mood today. “It’s mom’s birthday.”
His expressed changed, but not in a way that reflected her own heartache. He sobered and looked at her with a sympathy that bordered on pity. As if he was sorry she was hurt, but it was her pain, not theirs.
At least, that’s what her overactive imagination thought she saw before he looked to the floor and all she saw was the top of his bald head. “I didn’t realize.”
“I know. And I could use a day off. We both could.”
He sighed and she tensed, knowing that sigh. It was the parental, tough-love sigh. I know that’s what you want, but we can’t afford it.
“We have six real beds coming today and they need to be assembled. Rolf wants one and asked to use our trailer to store some equipment, since it locks. Did you know there’s been some thefts?” His head came up, but he didn’t look at her, only stood to pull on his gray, zippered cardigan and close it. “I’ll need you to get your things out of the trailer and, well, that snow is supposed to last all day. The parking lot will need shoveling more than once. I can’t go anywhere.”
Her heart was scrunching and crumpling under every word. He was really saying ‘no’ to her? Today?
She knew she was being pathetic, but she was genuinely tired, which made her that much more emotional. She was also really conflicted and missing her mother as a friend. She would understand how frustrated Glory felt at not having time to write. She would be really excited at Glory’s new story. Probably. She would almost certainly encourage her to keep writing it, telling her to get over her fears and go for it properly.
What about the lodge, though? Glory was lying awake at night, trying to figure it all out. If her mother was still alive, she would be writing her own damned books and none of this three-story behemoth would be weighing down on Glory like this.
It made her mother’s absence that much harder to bear.
“Let’s plan a lunch later in the week.” Her dad smiled and tapped his temple. “I’ll think of somewhere special.”
She didn’t want to go somewhere ‘special.’ Later. She wanted her mom to be here to tell her what to do.
“Come on, Glory.” He tried to hug her, his tone making it sound like she was wallowing and should snap out of it.
Maybe she was. “It’s been a long week,” she mumbled, unable to return his hug. “And I’ve got my period.” That always had him treating her like she was radioactive.
The back ache added to her crappy mood, keeping the clouds around her low and damp. She pushed herself through the breakfast routine, sullen.
She manned the coffee bar in the mornings, when it was busiest, because the cook and busboy had their hands full keeping up with filling the buffet and washing dishes. Even Devon’s crew had started buying punch cards for the coffee, now that it was premium grade.
Glory had fully mastered the machine and efficiently drew ferns, bears, frogs, and swans with the foam. She was working on a dragon, which looked more like a seahorse most days. She drew a mean mandala with the syrup along with spider webs complete with a black widow. When she had time, and the right order, she did a sailboat against a sunset with sprinkles on the water.
Did anyone care? No. They slapped a lid on it, nodded thanks, and walked away. She did it anyway because playing with the steamed milk was probably the only thing she’d ever liked about her brief career as a barista.
It was definitely the only thing that made it bearable these days. How had she wound up doing something she hated again? Cleaning up after people who treated the dining room like a pig trough?
The rush died off as everyone left to get to work. She sent the busboy into the kitchen to wash dishes, and cleared and wiped the tables herself, distantly aware of the cook’s music. On the far side of the bar, in what would eventually be the licensed lounge, Devon was drilling and hammering.
It was one of those moments when she was surrounded, yet alone. She paused with dirty dishes in her hand and stared out at the mountainside in shades of gray, wondering what the purpose of life was. This? Feeling colorless and obligated? She had one person in this world whom she loved. Her father. Beyond that, she had nothing. It was past time for her to get serious about her own future—she knew that—but she felt so stuck.
She heard footsteps behind her and a soft clunk.
Rolf. She knew even before she turned and saw him placing his punch card beside his insulated mug with a small snap. He always came back midmorning, after his rounds at the base, to get a fresh double-shot latte on his way to his desk. He bent his head over his phone, saying nothing.
Was he so isolated and terse because of his own family history, she wondered?
Empathy toward him took root. Maybe it was part and parcel of this attraction she felt, though. A sensual slither went through her abdomen as she walked toward him. Her pulse did a hiccup and pushed heat up through her chest and out to the tips of her limbs as she brushed by him, into the space behind the counter. Her cheeks warmed as she felt his glance flick onto her cheeks and away.
She didn’t know why she reacted to him like this, but today of all days, when she was peeling herself down to her core, trying to find herself, she felt miserably self-conscious about her attraction. She smiled as she left the dishes in a bus pan and washed her hands.
“I need a new punch card.”
No please or thank you. He was looking at his phone.
It stung. She felt even more awkward then, like she was all elbows and jerky reflexes, emotions flashing out of her bruised heart like a neon sign.
She was way too sensitive for this bull moose right now. She tried to hurry him along, making his order on autopilot and setting it in front of him while she moved to assign him a new punch card.
“Am I taking custody of Murphy?” she asked as she handed it over, offering another smile that silently begged him for a kind word. Just one. Please.
*
Rolf looked into the top of his mug. The foam heart made his own shrink and harden.
These flirty touches of hers, accompanied by hopeful smiles and eagerness to please, were piling up and setting off alarm bells. He was the full package. He knew that. She was hardly the first woman to eye up his looks, standing, and fortune, then make a play for a piece of it. He had an ex-wife who had taken a piece.
Maybe he owned a little responsibility for the way she was leaning in. He had cast one or two glances that she might have construed as interest. That was his dick doing his thinking and he needed to yank a halt on that as much as her. It was time to make clear that coffee art, and pillow chocolates, and inspiring quotes on the bottom of emails, didn’t affect him.
Drawing a breath, he went straight to the heart—pun intended—of the matter.
“I don’t know what you think might happen between us, but it won’t.”
She jolted like she’d caught a spark of static electricity. Her hand paused where she was writing something on a clipboard and she lifted her strawberry-blonde lashes, taken aback.
“I beg your pardon?” Her voice was so thin he barely heard it.
He bit back a sigh and licked his lips. “You seem to be making an effort to catch my attention.” He nodded at the foam heart. “I just want to be up front, so there aren’t any misunderstandings. I’m not interested.”
Maybe that was harsh, but he wasn’t someone who danced around, avoiding the hard jobs.
Her eyes widened even more, growing wounded and embarrassed. Pink bled into her face so deep, her freckles disappeared. Her bottom lip started to quiver before she bit down on it. Her brow pleated and her eyes began to gloss.
He set his back teeth, not having planned to make explanations, but maybe he needed to dial this back a notch. “We work together—”
“No, we don’t! You treat me like I work for you.”
He cocked a brow at that. Well, yeah. He was paying for a room and all.
“I’m trying to be nice.” Temper was gathering around her like storm clouds, making her voice grow loud and strident. “Not that you would know what that looks like. You think I’m coming on to you? You can’t even change your own toilet roll! You don’t get Valentines for that, you asshat. Making hearts with foam is so basic, it means I’m not even trying. But if you don’t like the way I’ve made your coffee, fine.”
She grabbed his mug and threw it into the bar sink where it bounced out and clattered to the floor, sending coffee exploding all over the walls, counter, and floor.
Adrenaline shot through him in reaction to the violence, sending a jolt of aggression into him that pushed him onto his toes, determined to grab control of a situation that was in full tailspin.
“Get a grip. This is a work environment.”
“This—” her hand flung above her head to indicate the lodge “—is a prison sentence. In Siberia. One where Herr Rolf rules. Do you know I’m supposed to be in Paris with my mom? Instead, I’m stuck here with a prick who goes out of his way to make me feel shitty about myself. Not interested? Fuck you, Rolf. Fuck you and your brother’s dog, too.”
She spat the words. Her whole body shook and her eyes showed white around fiery blue-green centers.
“Are you done?” he bit out, dousing her tantrum with the unmoved ice in his veins.
“So done.”
“Great. Can I get coffee?”
“Help yourself.” Except she didn’t say ‘help.’ It sounded a lot more like ‘Gofuckyourself.’
She walked out, and he heard Devon say, “You tell him, girl.”
“Oh, now you want to act like we’re friends? Screw you, Devon.”
“Hey!” Devon said, but Glory’s footsteps clomped away.
Rolf became aware of the fact that music had been turned down in the kitchen. Everyone in the vicinity had gone quiet to listen.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
He walked around the bar, dropped a towel on the spill, rinsed his cup, and helped himself to a regular coffee from the brew of the day. He walked back to his office through the kitchen, telling the kid in the dish pit to clean up behind the bar. Safety first.
Then he closed the door to his office with a firm hand and sat down to work, telling himself he had accomplished what he meant to. Maybe it hadn’t been elegant, but it was done. All was right with his world.
The coffee gave him gut rot.
*
Glory held back tears while she packed a small bag, gathered her laptop and purse, and stormed down the back stairs to the parking lot. Her car was blanketed in three inches of snow. She yanked opened the door and threw her things across to the passenger side, then sat down long enough to start it.
She had developed a routine since moving here. Start the car, set the defrost, then sweep and scrape while it warmed.
Today would be the last time. She was heading back to Seattle and would call her father when she got there. Fuck this shit. She was so done with this place and everyone in it.
Nothing happened.
She turned the key again. Click. A third time. Shit. She checked the headlights and discovered she had left them on the last time she had driven into Haven. The battery was dead.
She dropped her head back and screamed “Fuuuuck!” at the rooftop.
She threw open her door, intending to ask someone to give her a boost, but as she cracked the car door, the black and white beast from the fifth dimension of hell scrambled his way onto her lap, all wet paws and tail slaps and rasping tongue across her face.
“No, you idiot!” She tried to shove him back out, but he was pure muscle beneath that half-grown exuberance.
Who had let him out? Typical Rolf just assuming she was on dog duty. Jerk.
She tried pushing Murphy this way and that, but he didn’t want to be left behind. The passenger seat was full of her stuff so he stayed mostly on her lap, claws scratching through her jeans into her thighs. He managed to turn, but he was definitely in the car and not getting out.
The sheer magnitude of pulling him out and back into the lodge was more than she could face. The emotional storm that had been gathering force inside her welled to levels of frustration she could no longer bear.
“You big, dumb fuck.” Her voice cracked along with her composure.
She slammed the door so they were trapped inside the snow-covered car.
Sweeping her arm to the passenger seat, she shoved everything onto the floor, then shoved Murphy off her lap. He moved onto the seat and sat on his haunches, facing her with that dopey grin of his, expectant and joyful at being in her presence. Love me. I’ll love you back.
Big, stupid fuck.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, buried her face his furry neck, and let the tears come.