I forgot English.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Raisins,” I said.
He blinked. “Pardon?”
“Trail mix,” I blurted. “Raisins. Sometimes they clump. And that’s… relevant.”
Fiona slapped her hand over her mouth to hide a laugh.
Beck actually snorted.
Mom whispered, “Oh dear.”
Carson straightened, offering the mug back to me. “I’ll keep that in mind. About the raisins.”
He was calm. He was polite. He spoke in a deep, steady voice that wrapped around my ribcage and squeezed.
This was a threat.
To my job.
To my sanity.
To my ability to form sentences.
My dad stepped forward. “Carson, welcome to Honey Leaf Lodge. We’re glad to have you.”
Speak for yourself, Dad.
Violet went next. “I’m Violet, this is Fiona, and that’s our brother Beck.”
Carson shook their hands one by one, then turned to me.
“And you must be Sienna.”
I tried to smile like a normal person. “Yes. I am. She. Me. Sienna. Guide. Trails. Outdoors. Raisins.”
Beck coughed in that way that was definitely laughing.
Carson just smiled, and that smile was… devastating. “I’m looking forward to working with you. I hear we’ll be co-leading the backcountry retreats.”
Co-leading withhim.
I made a noise that sounded like a malfunctioning snowblower.
“Sienna is our lead guide,” Dad said proudly. “She’ll show you the ropes.”
“Great,” Carson said. “The more teamwork, the better.”
Teamwork.
With Henley Mountain Man over here.
Mom clapped her hands. “Why don’t you give Carson a tour, Sienna? Show him the gear shed.”
No.
