No, I couldnotshow this gorgeous professional man the gear shed.
The shed was chaos and full of tangled ropes, labeled-but-not-actually-labeled bins, and a wall I accidentally painted orange when I sneezed mid-roller swipe.
But everyone was looking at me expectantly.
Carson nodded toward the door. “Whenever you’re ready, Sienna.”
I swallowed. Tried again. Swallowed harder.
“Okay,” I croaked. “I can do that. I love sheds. I’m…uh…a shed expert.”
Fiona stage-whispered to Violet, “She’s going to perish.”
Beck crossed his arms smugly. “This is the best day of my life.”
Carson’s smile widened with gentle, amused warmth. “Lead the way?”
I forced my legs to move, praying they remembered how walking worked.
As I pushed open the door, cold spring air hit my face.
Carson fell into step beside me, and I immediately forgot how oxygen operated.
“Just so you know,” I said, grasping for anything resembling conversation, “rule one of guiding at Honey Leaf Lodge: beware of trail mix.”
He glanced down at me. “Because of the raisins?”
“Because sometimes,” I said gravely, “they clump and it turns hard.”
This time he laughed softly, low, and warm, and I knew, knowingly, that I was doomed.
Doomed professionally.
Doomed emotionally.
Doomed in every conceivable guide-to-guide category.
And as the gear shed loomed ahead, I had one very clear, very horrifying realization.
I might have just met the man who was going to ruin my life.
Or my job.
Or, possibly… my entire emotional stability.
Carson paused beside me on the snowy path, his breath misting in the cold air. He looked relaxed. Capable. Entirely unaware that I was seconds away from spontaneously combusting like a faulty camp stove.
“So,” I said, trying for confident and landing somewhere between strangled and squeaky, “uh, before we head to the gear shed, you can… grab your stuff from your car.”
“My stuff?” he echoed, brows lifting.
“Yeah,” I said, waving vaguely at the parking lot like that explained anything. “Your… bags. Gear. Pants. Boxers. Briefs. Whatever you brought.”
What did I just say, and why did I say it?
Carson’s mouth twitched. “Right. My bags.”
“Good!” I said it too quickly. “Then I’ll show you to our bed.”
