Marcus and Victoria started talking about implementation timelines and rollout strategies, but their words washed over melike white noise. All I could think about was the look in Noah’s eyes. Not anger, which I could have handled, but disappointment. I’d worked so hard to earn his respect. And I’d thrown it away for a contract with people who’d been using me just as surely as I was using them.
“I have to go after him.”
Victoria paused mid-speech, her rant about unfiltered mountain air triggering allergies fading into silence. All eyes turned to me.
“Excuse me?” Victoria’s eyebrows glowered on her face.
“I have to go after him. I have to talk to Noah.”
“Samantha, think about your contract,” said Marcus.
But I was already out of my chair and heading for the door. For the first time since arriving in Colorado, I knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed, what mattered most. And I’d just watched him disappear down the hallway, believing I’d played him for a fool.
Likes or love.
I made my choice.
I burst out of the conference room. The hallway stretched before me, empty except for a bewildered resort worker who jumped aside as I barreled past.
“Noah!” I called down the empty hallway. “Noah, wait!”
Barreling into the lobby, I saw a maze of potted ferns and overstuffed leather chairs, but no grumpy mountain man in sight. Just pampered tourists in pristine mountain gear that had never seen an actual mountain.
I spun in a circle, searching for any sign of him, a glimpse of those broad shoulders, that confident stride, even the scowl I’d grown oddly fond of.
Nothing.
“Sam?” Maya’s voice came from behind me, slightly breathless. She’d chased after me.
“I have to find him,” I pleaded. “I have to explain.”
“He probably went back to the Adventure Center.” Maya placed a gentle hand on my arm. “I bet you’ll find him there.” She glanced back toward the conference room, lowering her voice. “Marcus is pissed. He started yelling something about contract termination and blacklisting you from every luxury brand on three continents.”
“I don’t care.” And remarkably, I didn’t. The thought of never photographing another overpriced organic facial cream or saltwater infinity pool didn’t bother me half as much as the memory of Noah’s face when he’d heard me reduce everything between us to “just business.”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
“I …” The words stuck in my throat.
Did I like Noah Barrett?
The man who’d abandoned me at the airport, but then turned around and came back.
The man who made fun of my hiking boots, but then gave me new ones to protect my feet.
The man who made me raft down a raging river, then saved me when I fell in.
Did I like Noah Barrett?
The man who baked huckleberry muffins with orange zest.
The man who let me win at axe-throwing.
The man who, when he held me, made me wish he’d never let go.
“Yes,” I said. “I like him. But I think it’s even more than that.”
Maya dug into her pocket, pressing a lump of jangled keys with a LuxeLife logo keychain in my palm. I recognized themas the ones that operated the resort’s four-wheel-drive golf carts.
