Chapter 6
Dakota
“Keep staring at that screen, and you'll burn a hole through it,” Marcus says while I review the retreat plans for the executive team this weekend one more time.
I've tried everything to get Anna to cancel this event, or at least postpone it. Right now, her safety is crucial, far more important than getting the executive team to bond. That can wait. Especially since her ex's strange appearance, asking too many questions.
“Sorry, you two have to share a room at the retreat. It'd look weird if you didn't,” he apologizes, shrugging.
“Not an issue on my end. Tell me about security,” I cut in, trying not to think about the single bed we obviously can't share.
“Triple perimeter check. Limited access points, all staff vetted. Should be incident-free,” he assures me.
“Explain again why Anna insists on spending a weekend with her entire executive team in the middle of nowhere, Montana. Makes zero sense to me.”
“Company tradition. Chill, Dakota, for heaven's sake. Since I started working for her, they go to that Silver Peaks resort every year. It's in pure nature and builds team spirit. Couple different days to boost morale and recharge. Anna's good friends with one of the resort owners, River Merriweather. You'll like her.”
***
“Alright, team. We'll do this exercise in pairs,” the event organizer shouts. “Remember, this isn't about racing to the top, but trusting the person beside you. If one of you falls, your partner falls too. Sure, the safety harnesses will prevent accidents, but I hope you get the idea. Trust and collaboration are key,” he adds.
Before anyone can move to choose partners, Anna turns to me, her blue eyes sparking with competition.
“Think you can keep up, Martinez?”
“Did you catch that part about not competing?”
“Scared of heights? You know I was on the rock climbing team in college?” she teases.
“And you know I've climbed real mountains with a 40-pound pack on my back? That's just a fancy ladder for your execs to pretend they're working out,” I sass back.
“You'll have to prove it,” she whispers, starting to climb before the organizer even signals the start.
Must be true about that college climbing team because her technique is solid. Anna climbs easy, barely hesitating on holds, and she's surprisingly fit for someone who spends most days behind a desk.
“Can't pass me?”
“Doing my job. If you fall, I don't trust those idiots down there to protect you. Look at your belayer,” I nod. “His stance is wrong. Barely keeping tension on the rope, and using an ATC needs constant attention. If you fall and that guy's got slow reflexes, you could slam into the wall. Rather stay close.”
“Think you could stop my fall without going down yourself?”
“Don't test me, but yeah,” I tell her.
“You're not following just to check out my ass, right?” she smirks, winking and climbing even faster while trying to leave me behind, and I've got no comeback.
That night, while I try to sleep in a bag I've laid beside her bed, Anna keeps tossing on the mattress. I hear her constant turning and the sheets rustle with each move. Moonlight through the window shows her face twisted with anxiety.
Without thinking, I sit on the bed's edge and stroke her hair.
“Shh, you're safe, just a bad dream,” I tell her.
Anna instinctively curls against my body, wrapping her arms around my thigh like it's a pillow, and her breathing steadies.
I try to move, return to my sleeping bag now she's calmer, but she gets restless again, hugs my leg tighter, so I lean back against the headboard and try to find a somewhat comfortable position to rest.
Anna makes a soft sound, almost a purr, and rubs her cheek on my leg while her hand settles on my inner thigh, instantly chasing away any chance of sleep.
Dawn light finds us in that same position, with Anna waking lazily while stroking my thigh.
“Oh, shit!” she whispers, realizing what happened.
“You had a nightmare,” I rush to explain, lifting the same hand that was just stroking her hair.
“Did... did you stay like this all night?”
I just shrug, though her strange smile makes me nervous.
I'm trained to protect, to keep professional distance. But now, I realize I'm heading into dangerous territory.
During the day, we don't talk about it, like it never happened. At the closing ceremony, our eyes keep meeting, and I swear I can see my own conflict reflected in her gaze.
And tonight, while updating security logs, I can still feel the ghost pressure of her cheek on my thigh or her arms around my leg.
Professional. I need to stay professional.
Though I'm not sure my heart's listening.