Chapter One #2
He reached the porch and stopped at the open doorway rather than following the dog inside.
He was tall enough that the porch suddenly seemed built on a smaller scale than I remembered.
Broad shoulders filled a dark work jacket over a charcoal henley, and he wore canvas work pants and scuffed insulated boots.
Medium-brown hair was pushed back from his forehead as if he’d been running his hand through it, and a short beard framed a face with green eyes that landed on me with immediate concern rather than irritation.
“Bear slipped away from me while I was finishing a check down the ridge,” he said. His voice was low, warm, and surprisingly easy. “He just ran into your cabin. May I come get him?”
For one completely unproductive second, I forgot the dog.
Then I remembered language.
“Please. Before he decides the security deposit is a challenge.”
His mouth curved.
“Thank you.”
He stepped inside, and I had to tip my head back farther than I enjoyed to meet his eyes.
The effect was inconvenient.
I was five feet tall. I had accepted this about myself years ago. I owned step stools, excellent tailoring, and shoes that corrected the issue when circumstances allowed.
None of those things prepared me for a broad, bearded mountain man standing inside my rental cabin and towering well over a foot above me.
“Bear,” he called, not loudly. “Come back out here.”
Something thumped in the bedroom.
We both looked down the hallway.
The man closed his eyes briefly.
“That wasn’t encouraging,” I said.
“No. It really wasn’t.”
He started toward the hallway, then paused when he noticed my open laptop and tablet at the dining table.
“Sorry. I’m interrupting work.”
“It’ll survive. I produce television. Interruptions are the native climate.”
His gaze moved over the screens without lingering on anything private. “That setup looks more complicated than anything I’ve got in the maintenance office. You look like you know exactly what you’re doing with it.”
“With this, I do. I love the work. Ask me to fix a sink, though, and the hierarchy of human knowledge becomes very clear.”
He laughed, and the sound settled warm under my ribs, which was annoying.
A second thump came from the bedroom.
He exhaled. “I should probably introduce myself before my dog destroys your first evening. Lucius Ramsey. I manage the upper rental properties and grounds.”
So this was Lucius Ramsey. I stared at him long enough that his eyebrows lifted.
“You’re Lucius?”
“Unfortunately. I get that reaction a lot.”
That made me laugh before I could stop myself. “I’m sorry. The name in the property contacts gave me a very different mental picture.”
“Older?”
“Much older.”
He smiled fully then, and there went another small section of my concentration.
“You can call me Lucky.”
Of course he did.
Heat touched the base of my neck beneath the cashmere collar, and I became abruptly aware of his size again, the cold clean scent clinging to his jacket, and the roughness across his knuckles where one large hand rested loose at his side.
Lucius had sounded like an administrative inconvenience.
Lucky was a problem with shoulders.
A rapid clicking of nails came from the bedroom. Lucky’s attention snapped toward the hallway. “There he is.”
Bear rounded the corner at speed. I saw the pale blush color first. Then lace. Then the unmistakable shape of one of my favorite thongs hanging from the dog’s mouth.
“No.”
Bear wagged harder.
“Oh, no.”
Lucky went perfectly still. The retriever trotted toward us with the enormous satisfaction of an animal who had found treasure and expected praise for his initiative.
“Bear,” Lucky said, with the calm resignation of a man who had lived through previous negotiations. “Drop it.”
Bear did not drop it. Instead he shook his head. The lace tore with a tiny, horrifying sound.
I stepped backward on instinct, caught the edge of the rug with my heel, and suddenly Lucky was there. One arm came around my waist before I could hit the floor.
For a moment I was held against a body that was warm, solid, and much larger than mine. My breath shortened.
Lucky’s eyes met mine immediately. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
He let go at once. No lingering, no unnecessary fuss—just one steadying touch and then space again.
I straightened my turtleneck, which did not need straightening.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m going to replace that.”
I looked at Bear, who had finally released the ruined lace and was sitting beside it with his tongue hanging out.
“I’m not submitting an underwear reimbursement to a resort.”
Lucky rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “I’d understand why.”
“I would not survive the administrative trail.”
“Then let me pay for it personally.”
I considered him.
This was not his fault, exactly. He was clearly mortified, Bear was clearly delighted with himself, and cash would make the whole thing feel stranger than it already did.
“No. I have a better idea.”
Lucky’s expression turned cautiously interested. “All right. What do you have in mind?”
“You’re the Property Manager, and you’re responsible for this cabin while I’m here.”
“For property issues, yes.”