“Renovations?” she spits, stomping toward him like she’s ready to throw hands. “You’re destroying the historic integrity of?—”
“The lodge needs updating?—”
“That’s not updating—that’s personal.”
Sierra slaps her palms on the bar and climbs right up in his face.
On her hands and knees.
Not quite the power position she thinks it is. More like he’s going to get all sorts of ideas with her up there, but hey, it’s probably exactly what they need.
She jabs a finger into Everett’s chest, her fury reaching a fever pitch. “I’ve documented every historic detail of this lodge. You can’t just?—”
Everett finally notices his audience. His eyes flick to the rest of us, then back to Sierra. The spark in his expression shifts to something darker, quieter, like he’s drawing the line in the snow.
“Why don’t we discuss this somewhere more private?” he says, his voice low.
Sierra doesn’t budge. “Oh no, Everett. If you’re going to ruin this place, I want everyone to witness every shitty move and never let you forget.”
The lodge might survive the renovations, but this? This feels like the kind of storm you don’t see coming until it’s right on top of you.
Holly nudges me then, “Should we step in?”
“Not a chance. You want someone to interrupt our foreplay?” I shake my head and rest my chin on her hair. “Let ‘em sort it out.”
“I’m not sure they’ll survive.”
Brushing a kiss over her temple, my laugh rumbling over her skin elicits a shiver I’m all too familiar with. “Everett’s met his match. She’ll keep him in line.”
As Everett opens his mouth to argue, Sierra snaps a photo just inches from his face—flash and all—and hops off the bar muttering something about documenting every insult to the lodge’s history.
“Well, at least we’ll have pictures of the carnage,” Holly says with a laugh.
“Professional-grade, too.”
As Everett turns back to the bar, he catches us watching him. He raises an eyebrow, the grin sliding back into place like armor. “Something on your mind, McAdams?”
“Yeah,” she calls back. “Just wondering how long it’s gonna take her to make you eat that smug little smile.”
His laugh is easy, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “Careful, Holly. You’re dangerously close to underestimating me.”
HOLLY
The hay crinkles under the tarp as Chance tugs me down beside him, my back pressed to his chest. The wagon creaks with our movement, a familiar sound that sends heat blooming in my cheeks.
"Earbuds?" he asks, his breath warm against my ear.
"Always." I pass him one, slipping the other into my ear. Fall Out Boy fills the silence between us, kicking off my playlist, and I can't help but smile.
His hand slides down to my hip. "I have something for you."
"Is it in one of your sixteen pockets?"
"Actually..." He leans back with his arms crossed behind his head, giving me that devastating grin that still makes my heart skip. "It's in all of them. Each pocket has a gift. You have to find them all."
"All sixteen?"
"Yup." He pops the 'p' with infuriating smugness. "Better get started, Squirt."
