Just Once (20 page)

Hailey is the only one who knows about my attraction to Shane, and while I’d like to think of myself as an open and forthcoming person, I already know I’m not going to tell her about today’s interlude. And not just because Shane and I agreed to keep our one-time thing a secret, but because I want it to be private. Because I’ve never had sex like that, and I don’t know how I feel about it. I mean, I feel good—sore all over, in a great way—but it’s vaguely disappointing to know that the man responsible for these pleasurable aches and pains has made it clear he doesn’t want to do it again.

The next morning I wake up like a tug boat slowly emerging from a wall of fog: slow, cautious, and determined. I’m on the “late” shift today, which means I start at seven, and it is now six thirty. Counting my three-hour nap last night, I have had nearly nine hours of sleep, and I feel better. Rested.

I climb out of bed, splash water on my face, and brush my teeth before dressing and going downstairs. Outside, the actual wall of fog is cold and invigorating, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear there was a little pep in my step. I needed yesterday: the sex, the nap, the hot tub. Things here have been go-go-go since my arrival: the long trip over, the fights with Janie, the next-to-no days off to compensate for the staff shortage, the tension with Shane. Yesterday was an outlet for all of the frustrated feelings I’d been bottling up for weeks. My well-used muscles hurt pleasantly, but not unbearably, and I feel lighter.

“Good morning!” I call to Hailey as she wipes down the wranglers’ breakfast tables.

“Hey,” she says. “What’s got you so cheery?”

Lisa stumbles in. “Who’s cheery?”

“Kate.”

“What the hell for?”

“We’ve been working too hard,” I announce.

Lisa and Hailey roll their eyes. “No kidding.”

“Well, that’s about to change. We’re going to get another employee. Not that Pete’s not great,” I add before Lisa can defend his honor. “The next person who applies is hired, even if they’re a barrister from Spain via Nigeria who wants to make me a millionaire.”

“Jesus,” Hailey says. “Maybe I’ll take another nap if I’m going to wake up like you.”

Lisa is restocking the buffet.

“Where’d all the food go?” I ask. Since our staff losses we’ve had to compensate with more buffets to make sure we don’t get overrun in the dining room. At breakfast people have the option of ordering off our small menu, and the wranglers usually leave the buffet alone, knowing we’ll have to restock it.

“Shane ate it all,” Lisa answers. “That man was hungry.”

“No idea why,” Hailey mutters. “He didn’t have to go to the dance last night.”

“Pete said the guys were talking while they were out fixing the fences—”

Hailey prepares to sing.

“Don’t!” Lisa interrupts. “I said
fix
so you wouldn’t sing.”

Hailey shrugs, and I wait impatiently for Lisa to finish her story.

“Anyway,” she continues, “they said Shane used to be really laidback and quiet, but this summer he’s been different. Meaner. Biting their heads off for every little thing.”

Hailey and I exchange a look. She knows about our fight, but not the making up. “Well, some guys are just jerks,” she says.

“Yeah,” I agree half-heartedly.

The first guests arrive, and we get back to work. Pete’s on dish duty, so the girls work the dining room, and I’m in the kitchen helping Mark with prep work, since he had to do extra to restock the buffet.

“How are things?” Mark asks, cracking eggs onto the griddle.

“Good,” I say, somewhat surprised. “You?”

Our burgeoning friendship quickly became awkward after he brought Cassidy to the dance. Things have been cordial, but we’ve exchanged no more than pleasantries for the past two weeks.

“Pretty good,” he answers. “Alec’s taking the next two nights off, so I’ll be running things in here. Finally.”

“Nice. I know you’ve wanted a chance to be in charge.”

Mark smiles. “I’m looking forward to it.”

His stare lingers a little too long, and I look back at the strawberries I’m slicing. “Well,” I say. “Good luck.”

Breakfast is drama-free—though I nearly slice off a finger when I see Shane pass by—and after cleanup, everyone goes out to start the cabins. I’m about to enter cabin four when a silver SUV rolls down the road and parks next to the lodge. I’m too far away to discern faces, but two men in suits climb out and look around. I’m debating whether or not I should go over to meet them—Are they late arrivals? Early?—but I stop when Hank and Mary enter the picture, shaking hands. They seem friendly but formal, and I have no idea what’s going on.

I tell myself to mind my own business and enter the cabin, sighing when I see that someone has tracked mud across the carpet. I drop my basket on a chair and get to work.

Twenty-five minutes later, the carpet is wet but clean, and my right arm is sore from scrubbing—not to mention that crawling around on my hands and knees created extra friction between my legs, reminding me that my out-of-use muscles need some serious recovery time. Or more practice.

“Kate?” calls a voice from outside.

I climb to my feet and pull open the door. “Mary?”

“Oh, good, there you are,” she says. She’s alone, no suited men in sight. “There’s someone here to see you. I left him in the office.”

“Him?”

She shrugs. “He asked for you specifically.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be right over.” I’m about to ask her who the visitors were, but she’s already hustling back to the lodge.

I pick up my basket and drop it in the laundry room, washing my hands and smoothing my hair before walking to the office to meet my mystery guest.

“In there,” Gina says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder and shooting me a look that says my visitor has not made a good first impression.

I enter the small back office and find a boy—well, a man, technically—sitting on the far side of the desk. My side, to be precise. He’s tall and lean, with long limbs and shoulder-length blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He’s got a goatee, piercings in both ears, his fingers are covered in at least six rings, and he wears a bright yellow button-up shirt with faded jeans and skateboard shoes. I’ve never seen him before in my life.

“Hello,” I say, stopping in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says, standing. He towers over me and could be intimidating if not for his surprisingly genuine smile. “You’re Kate?”

He extends a hand that I shake, somewhat comforted by the fact that Gina is right outside and knows how to use a gun. Who the hell is this guy? And what is he doing at my desk? Well, I suppose it’s not my desk, but it’s definitely not
his
desk.

“Yes. You are?”

“Matthew Bacon. Your new employee.”

Chapter Twelve

“I B
EG
Y
OUR
P
ARDON
?”

He pulls a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and smooths it to show me the job posting he must have printed out from one of the countless websites I submitted it to.

“I’m here to be a kitchen/cabin girl.”

Huh. I may have made the posting a little gender-specific. But while I’m completely in favor of erasing the lines between gender roles, in all my years here I have never seen—or even heard of—a kitchen/cabin
boy
. Well, except for Pete, who doesn’t count because people still refer to him as the handyman. “You’re applying for a job?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then get out of my seat.”

Matthew blinks in surprise, then quickly recovers, scooting around the desk and politely gesturing for me to sit. I shoot him a look that says I’m not fooled by his faux chivalry, and he laughs, dropping into the chair.

“Why do you want to work at Ponderosa Pines?”

“Why not? I think it’d be fun.”

“What are you doing in the mountains?”

“Traveling. Taking in the sights.”

“For how long?”

He taps the job posting. “Until the end of the summer.”

I lean forward on the desk. “We start early, Matthew.”

“Call me Matt.”

“We clean dishes.”

“Yep.”

“Bathrooms.”

“Got it.”

“We make beds.”

“No problem.”

“Where’s your stuff?”

He points to a backpack sitting on the floor behind my chair. “Ready when you are,” he says.

I figure,
What the hell?
Matthew Bacon can’t be any worse than Janie and Becca. Plus, we’re desperate. I hire him, he signs a tattered old contract Gina finds in a drawer, then I give him a polo shirt and have him follow me out to cabin four for lessons.

Matt is intelligent, outgoing, and willing, and we breeze through the cabins easily. He tells me he grew up with four siblings and a single mother, and he knows how to clean. He’s just looking for an adventure, not trouble.

We’ll see. Again, my standards have been lowered. As long as he’s not worse than Janie, he’ll do.

We meet Pete, Lisa, and Hailey back in the supply closet before lunch, and I make the introductions. “Hailey?” he repeats, holding on to her hand. “I love your hair.”

She’s momentarily speechless. “Ah, thank you.” I can see she’s now struggling not to touch her hair.

“You bet.”

He turns his back to refill his basket and everyone else shoots me questioning looks. “Wash your hands and find us in the dining room when you’re done,” I tell Matt.

“Will do.”

The four of us shuffle through the kitchen—passing Mark, who looks at us oddly—and into the dining room where we ostensibly set tables but really just gossip. I fill them in on Matt’s strange but timely arrival, and they’re equally torn between wondering what the hell he’s doing here and just being grateful somebody showed up.

“He’s kind of cute,” Lisa muses.

Pete looks affronted. “Excuse me?”

She strokes his back. “But not as cute as you.”

He sulks, and she follows him to start filling water glasses, apologizing for daring to voice her opinion. Though I have to agree. If long hair and piercings are your thing—or even if they’re not—Matt’s got bright blue eyes, the bone structure of a model, and is good-looking in a decidedly non-ranch way.

Hailey and I roll our eyes and start arranging silverware. “He just showed up out of the blue, huh?”

“Well, I did post a million job ads, so it’s not like it was without prompting. I practically begged someone to apply.”

Matt enters through the in door, and I explain the principle behind the doors, recounting the story of Lisa learning the hard way. “All right, cool,” he says.

“Have you ever served before?” I ask.

“Never.”

“Okay, come with me. I’ll go over things with you.” I grab two glasses of iced tea and an order pad, and we go out back to the steps to sit down. It’s Saturday, so the guests are leaving after lunch. I give Matt a quick lesson in order taking and soon we’re just killing the last five minutes before the lunch bell sounds.

“There’s an actual bell?” he asks, looking doubtful.

“Yeah. One of the wranglers rings it.”

“I cannot wait to hear this.”

I laugh. “It’s just a bell.”

There’s a pause, then Matt says, “I have to tell you something.”

I close my eyes, expecting the worst. What could it be? He’s a thief? A killer? On the run from the law?

“I’m a fan,” he confesses, watching his sneaker-clad feet.

I don’t move. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about.

“What?”

“I’m a fan,” he says again. “I swear I didn’t know before I came up here, but I just thought you’d find out sooner or later…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your book.
The Sunshine Schools
? I’ve read it, like, a dozen times. I have a copy in my bag. I just wanted to tell you I’m a fan because I’m a fan, but also because I don’t want somebody to see the book and think I came up here to stalk you. I like to be upfront about things. I recognized you from your picture—and, well, your name, obviously.”