Chapter Two
Marc
There are easier ways to introduce myself to a beautiful woman than knocking her into a lake.
I cannot think of any that would have shown me how Kelsey Matlock feels in my arms, though, so the accident is not without one significant benefit.
I keep that observation to myself while I haul us onto the dock.
She is my landlord, possibly my client, and currently standing barefoot on wet boards while her soaked shirt clings to a body lush enough to empty every sensible thought from my head.
Looking is unavoidable. Staring would make me an asshole, so I look at the electrical cabinet instead.
"You have towels in Cabin Seven," Kelsey says as she wrings lake water from the end of her ponytail. "I'll get you one."
"You stay here. I'll get both of us one."
Her eyebrows lift. I hear the command in my own voice a second too late, but I do not take it back.
The lights flickered while we were standing in the lake beside an electrical service.
The equipment should be properly bonded and grounded.
Should does not mean I am leaving her barefoot on a wet dock while I assume it is.
Still, I can tell she’s surprised at me giving her direction.
"Please," I add.
Kelsey's mouth twitches. "That word might save you around here."
"I'll try to remember it."
I retrieve two towels from the cabin, along with the dry work pants and shirt I packed where I could reach them.
My duffel, two tool cases, and a cooler constitute most of what I brought for six weeks in Cady Springs.
Kelsey might have opinions about that if she saw it.
Based on the careful welcome basket on the counter and the fresh flowers beside the window, she believes people deserve to feel at home even when they are only passing through.
I have never needed much help passing through.
When I return, she has removed her boots and socks and placed them where the afternoon sun can reach them. Her wet jeans mold to the generous curves of her hips, and the pale blue shirt clinging to her breasts is making a determined effort to end my career before I begin the inspection.
I hand her the larger towel and keep my gaze on her face. "Cabin Four is empty?"
"The Lawsons are in Two. No one is staying in Five or Six tonight, and you're the only guest assigned to Seven."
"Then I want the breakers to Cabins Four, Five, and Six off until I inspect the main service. I want to test Seven before I decide about it."
"Want or recommend?"
The question is not subtle. It tells me more about her than the efficient office system and immaculate cabin did.
Kelsey is accustomed to men stating their preferences as if they are laws of nature.
She may have learned to push back because of this property, or she may have bought this property because she was already good at it.
Either way, I admire the hell out of her.
"I strongly recommend it," I say. "I also recommend we stay away from the water until I confirm there isn't a grounding problem. You make the decision."
She studies me for a moment before nodding. "Do it."
Kelsey goes to Cabin Eight to change while I pull on dry work clothes in Seven. Ten minutes later, we meet beside the cedar screen, both of us dry and wearing boots again.
The main panel sits behind the cedar screen, far enough from the water to meet clearance requirements but close enough that years of lake air have left corrosion on the outer housing.
It is not ancient. I have worked on equipment twice its age without trouble.
Age alone does not tell me why three cabins lost voltage at the same time.
Heat does.
The moment I remove the dead front, the bitter smell strengthens.
One of the main lugs shows discoloration, and the insulation on the conductor below it has begun to darken.
It has not burned through. It has not arced.
It has, however, been getting hot long enough to leave no doubt that the connection is failing.
"Don't come closer," I tell Kelsey.
She stops immediately, all humor gone. "How bad?"
"Bad enough that those circuits stay off. The connection is overheating under load. You may have damage farther down the line, but I can't determine that without shutting down the service and testing it properly."
"Is there any immediate danger to the occupied cabins?"
"Not from this section once I isolate it. I want to inspect the rest before I promise you anything."
She absorbs that without dramatics. "Tell me what you need."
For the next forty minutes, Kelsey gives me access to every panel, utility closet, and maintenance record I request. She knows which cabin received a new water heater in March, which exterior outlet was damaged by a guest's boat trailer, and exactly when the lights in Cabin Seven first began flickering.
Her records are organized by cabin and type of repair, with scanned invoices attached to each entry.
"You were expecting a woman wandering around with a ring of unlabeled keys, weren't you?" she asks when she catches me studying the maintenance history on her tablet.
"I was expecting a ring of keys."
"Ha."
"The fact that they're labeled doesn't make them easier to carry."
She glances down at the enormous ring clipped to her belt loop. "I like knowing I can get into anything I own."
I like the way she says it. I like the certainty in her voice and the little lift of her chin, as if the cabins are more than buildings she rents to strangers. They are proof of something. I want to know what. Instead, I return to the problem I am qualified to solve.
The remaining cabins test within normal range, and the main service is stable once the older branch is disconnected.
Kelsey stands beside me while I call Nolan, the electrician she reached earlier.
I explain what I found and send him photographs.
He confirms that I am licensed in Colorado through the same state system he uses, then laughs when Kelsey insists that he verify it independently rather than accept my word.
"You approve of that," I say after the call ends.
"I approve of anyone who understands that trust and verification can coexist."
"You always this careful?"
"With my business, yes."
The answer leaves open the question of whether she is as careful with herself. I am already hoping she is not.
Nolan cannot reach Eight Pines until tomorrow afternoon. He agrees with my recommendation to leave the three cabins disconnected overnight and says he will bring the equipment needed for a full load test. Kelsey thanks him, then begins making another series of calls.
I listen while she offers the Lawsons a full refund and lets them remain in the upgraded cabin at no charge. They refuse the refund. She insists on one free night. By the time she hangs up, they have compromised on a restaurant gift card and late checkout.
"You negotiate with everyone?" I ask.
"Only when I'm right."
"That often?"
Her gaze moves over me, slow enough that it’s almost uncomfortable.
"More often than you will find convenient, Mr. Decker."
I have spent considerable time moving from one commercial project to another. I know how to enter a room full of contractors, identify the person causing a delay, and get five different trades moving in the same direction. I am not easily unsettled. Kelsey unsettles me without raising her voice.
She turns away to study the row of dark cabins.
The sun has dropped behind the mountain, leaving the lake silver and the spaces beneath the pines shadowed.
Cabins Four through Six look strangely empty without the warm porch lights that distinguish Eight Pines from every other rental property along this part of the shore.
“I have a family reunion arriving Friday,” she says. “They reserved six cabins almost a year ago. Four generations, twenty-three people, and enough food to survive a blizzard.”
Today is Monday. Even before Nolan completes his testing, I can see the calculation behind her eyes. Three cabins represent nearly half the beds she promised them.
"Do you have another property where you can place them?"
"Not together. I can call two owners I know, but neither has three cabins open this close to the weekend." She wraps her arms around herself, whether from the cooling air or worry I cannot tell. "I won't put them in a property that isn't safe. If we can't fix it, I'll cancel and return every cent."
There is no hesitation when she says it. The financial blow will hurt her, but the decision is already made.
"Let's find out what failed before we cancel anything."
"We?"
"Nolan said he could use an extra set of hands. I can help him test it tomorrow. If he needs me beyond that, you and I will discuss it before I do any work."
"You have your own job."
"My crew starts at six and finishes at three-thirty. What I do afterward is my business."
"Not if you're exhausted on the job your employer is paying you to do."
Her concern catches me off guard. Most people who learn I am an electrician begin listing outlets, ceiling fans, and mysterious noises they want me to examine. Kelsey has a legitimate problem, yet she is thinking about whether helping her could affect my work.
"I know my limits," I tell her.
"So do I."
The words may be a warning, but the look in her eyes is not. Awareness moves between us again, hot and unmistakable. I remember her body against mine in the lake and the soft sound she made when my arm tightened around her. She remembers it too. I can tell by the color rising over her throat.
I should go inside, take a shower, and begin this stay again tomorrow.
Instead, I step closer and let the attraction show. "Do your limits include feeding the guest you knocked into the lake?"
Her lips part. Then one eyebrow rises. "I knocked you in?"
"That's how I remember it."
"You should have your memory checked along with the wiring," she says, smiling with only one side of her mouth.
"Is that a no?"
Kelsey looks toward her cabin. Warm light glows through the windows, untouched by the problem affecting the others.
Her porch faces mine across a shared strip of lawn no wider than a modest living room.
Close enough for me to see her every morning.
Close enough to notice every night she works too late.
"I made a pot of chili yesterday," she says. "You can have a bowl while we discuss tomorrow. This is a business dinner."
"Business only, huh?"
"You don't sound convinced."
"I'm convinced there's going to be dinner."
She shakes her head and starts toward Cabin Eight. I follow at a respectful distance, which also gives me an unobstructed view of her curves. Six weeks suddenly feels like a dangerously short amount of time.