My stomach flipped. My brain scrambled for something to say, anything to make me seem like a normal coworker instead of a malfunctioning woodland creature.
“We should do a dry hump,” I blurted.
Silence.
Absolute, catastrophic silence.
Carson blinked.
But then Violet coughed and choked. Fiona slapped both hands over her mouth. Abby dropped a spoon behind the counter.
A man reading a newspaper two tables away slowly lowered it, as if he were watching daytime television.
My soul left my body, hopped in a canoe, and paddled away.
I was bright red. Nuclear red. Stoplight red. Fire-hydrant red.
Carson’s eyebrow lifted, slow and devastating. “A… what?”
“No,” I yelped. “No no no NO. Not that. Not…what I said. I didn’t meanthat. No dry humps. Dry humping. None of it.”
His lips pressed together like he was fighting a smile. “All right.”
“I meant a dry run,” I practically shouted. “A dry RUN. With equipment. Without guests. Just us… I mean notusus… I meanthe two of us doing lodge things, guide things, hiking things, not that kind of thing.”
Fiona collapsed sideways in her chair, wheezing. Violet was crying into her latte. Abby had both hands on the counter, waiting for what came next.
“Understood,” Carson said, though by the look on his face, he understood nothing except that I had reached peak disaster.
I attempted to sit still with dignity.
Failed.
Attempted to swallow air normally.
Failed.
Attempted not to picture Carson dry-humping anything.
Failed spectacularly.
“Anyway,” I squeaked, “a trial run of the trail is what I meant.”
Carson wrapped both hands around his coffee cup. “A trial run makes sense.”
“Ofcourseit does,” I muttered. “I’m a professional.”
Violet whispered, “A professional dry h—”
“Finish that sentence, and I will push you into the lake,” I hissed.
Carson definitely heard that because the corner of his mouth lifted again. Just a hint. Just a two-timing millimeter that made something warm bloom in my stomach.
“So,” Fiona said, with the chaos of a Harper sister who enjoyed watching me perish, “when do you two want to do your… dry run?”
She waggled her eyebrows.
I kicked her under the table so hard she yelped.
