Page 39 of Flirting with 40

“No, but I do have a slight change of plans.”

“Oh.” Worry threads through that simple sound, and I wince.

“I’ve been called into work for a quick meeting that I can’t say no to. It has to do with a case I’m working on, and . . . it’s complicated.”

“Okay.”

“But it should only take about an hour, so why don’t you head up there, and I’ll be right behind you. I’d say for you to wait for me, but if things run a bit longer and we end up getting on the road late, it’ll just give Horrible Heather another reason to ding you.”

“Okay.”

Two okays in a row from a woman is never okay.

“I know we were supposed to go over our story on the way up . . . but I think we’ll be fine. And we’ll make sure to steal away tonight and sort everything out.”

“Okay.”

That’s three.

“We’ll be fine. I promise you I’ll be there. I wouldn’t back out on you—on this. If I’m a little late, just tell them I’m busy saving a life. No one ever argues with that excuse. Trust me.”

She laughs, and if I weren’t so preoccupied with thinking about what’s about to happen with the board, it would’ve gotten me hard. There’s nothing sexier than a sleep-drugged morning voice.

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Besides, I like to make grand entrances.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Blakely

I stand in the cool mountain breeze and take in the view.

Trees upon trees upon trees.

There is a lake to my right, complete with sparkling water and a dock with canoes and paddleboards tied up.

A log cabin with the sign “Welcome to Red Mountain Lodge” above its entry is nestled in more trees and sitting straight ahead of me. It’s large by any standards, and with the light reflecting off the lake and shining off the tinted windows, it looks more like a high-end resort than a summer camp.

Sixth-grade camp it is not.

Thank god for that. I might be stuck in some mosquito-ridden mountains, but at least, from what I can see, the accommodations are better than I expected.

I glance at the parking lot again, but no one else has pulled in.

Where are you, Slade?

He said he’d be here. I’m sure he’s coming.

But I can’t linger any longer.

With a deep breath, I pull open the door to the lodge and the scent of warm cinnamon and the excited chatter of my colleagues somewhere down the way assault my senses as I take in the rustic-yet-modern charm covering every inch of the main entrance.

“You must be Blakely Foxx,” a very bubbly redhead says as she all but bounces her fairy-size frame over to me, clipboard clutched to her chest. “I’m Sue. Welcome to Red Mountain Ranch where we are excited to have you and your team.”

“Hi. Thank you.” Her enthusiasm scares me.

“I thought we were expecting someone else with your arrival.”