“And we simply can’t expect one person to handle all the outdoor programming from April to September.”
“You absolutely can,” I said. “I’m excellent at it. I thrive under pressure. I grew up fighting for bathroom time with four siblings. My body is built for survival.”
“You were in Alaska all winter,” Violet said gently. “And you tend to flee whenever you have the chance.”
“So what? People take trips!”
“You were gone for four months,” Fiona clarified. “Four. And you lived in a cabin with no indoor plumbing half the time. And you befriended a moose.”
“That was a spiritual connection, not a friendship,” I snapped. “And his name was Mortimer, or as I liked to call him, Morty.”
Beck’s eyebrows rose. “Sienna. You sent us a selfie of you and the moose touching foreheads like you were in a romance movie.”
“We had a moment! They’re usually quite dangerous.”
Mom patted my hand. “Sweetheart, no one doubts your skills. You’re the best guide we’ve ever had. But we need someone consistent to help support the retreat program.”
“And you didn’t… ask me?” My voice cracked. “Or consult me? Or even text me a vague emoji?”
Violet winced. “We were nervous you’d say no.”
“But that doesn’t stop you from asking!” I yelped.
Dad sighed. “We need to do what is best for the lodge.”
“And we wanted to avoid the twenty-seven-minute speech about trail sovereignty you gave last time we brought up hiring someone,” Beck added.
“I’m a passionate individual.”
Fiona stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You’re not being replaced. You’re just getting help.”
“It’s a collaboration,” Violet offered.
“A partnership,” Mom said.
“A coup,” I muttered.
The lodge door opened, and a burst of cold air swept in, swirling snowflakes across the hardwood floor.
And there he was.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair still dusted with spring snow. A jawline you could probably navigate by. Eyes the color of pine forests after rain. A worn green Henley shirt that did nothing,nothing, to hide the unfairness happening beneath it.
A living, breathing outdoor adventure magazine cover model walked into our lodge.
The newcomer gave a polite, quiet nod.
“Hi. I’m Carson Reed with Ridge & Trail Outfitters.”
Fiona gasped on my behalf, while Violet made a tiny squeaking sound.
Beck raised both eyebrows, impressed.
I dropped my cocoa mug.
Literally dropped it. On the floor, where it rolled in a perfect arc and stopped at Carson’s feet.
He bent down, picked it up, and smiled slowly.
