CHAPTER ONE #2
Turning on my heel, I lead the group into the event barn, which is flanked by lodges for groups like this.
I hear a soft intake of breath from Jenna and turn to see her grab Eric’s arm as she takes in the open area where the reception will be held.
Glass doors and picture windows line the front, showcasing the view of the mountains.
Skylights filter in natural light, and Edison bulbs are strung crisscrossed along the top of the space to add to the ambience when darkness falls.
“We’ll meet back here to go through setup once you’re all settled,” I say, walking backward toward one of the two lodges named for the state’s mountain ranges: Beartooth Lodge.
It has more of a cozy feel, with an open kitchen and casual living room, as well as a game room.
Boulder Lodge, on the other side of the barn, is where our commercial kitchen is, along with a larger gathering area.
“This is where the wedding party will be staying.” I nod toward the door behind me. “Parents and guests will be spread across the other lodge and the glamping tents.”
The group is made up of Eric and Jenna, Evelyn and Leanne, Eric’s two brothers, and four additional friends. Both sets of parents are also here, with the remaining guests scheduled to arrive tomorrow.
“You’ll find your name on the door to your room, as coordinated with Leanne.” I give her a curt nod. “So, if you’re unhappy with your accommodations, you can take it up with her.”
My grin is mischievous, and her eyes shoot daggers at me in return. The group snickers, and I wonder if I’m going too far with my needling. She looks like she wants to poke her tongue out at me, but doing something so silly would be impossible with a stick the size of a vaulter’s pole up her ass.
Since our very first email exchange, it’s been a series of barbs and passive aggressiveness between us, all as per my last emails and please let me know if I’ve misunderstoods.
I was so taken aback by her irascible tone I didn’t immediately squash it.
I’m not usually one to put up with condescension and disrespect, but Leanne’s brand of instigation got right under my skin.
So, with every subsequent email, our animosity only grew.
Ignoring Leanne’s continued glare, I address Jenna and Eric. “Take some time to get unpacked. If anyone needs anything, don’t hesitate to ask. My staff and I are here to ensure this weekend is everything you want it to be.”
Near-silent muttering has me turning my head ever so slightly. “What was that, blondie?”
The look on her face is priceless when she spits back, “It’s Leanne, and I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Leanne, manners,” her mother chides from beside her, shock coloring her tone as she blinks at her daughter like she’s never seen her before.
I offer a smile to placate the woman, and Leanne turns a deeper shade of red.
I assume she’s internalizing all the obscenities and insults she wishes she could hurl at me but can’t in present company.
Somehow, I feel confident the dam will burst in time.
Everyone peels off to their respective rooms, the parents walking across the barn to their own lodge, and I continue down the hall until there’s only the sound of my and Leanne’s footsteps.
Even though she’s here alone, she’s taken one of the private rooms for herself, meaning her room is the last in this hall.
Gripping the doorknob, I twist and send the door open, holding my arm out to the side.
“Your room, milady.” I watch her lip curl as she stalks past me, grunting under my breath when her long mane of hair hits me in the face with how forcefully she flings her head around.
The urge to gather that hair in my fist and pull hits me so hard I’m nearly knocked back, and I squeeze my eyes shut to shove down the desire—an attempt made marginally easier when she runs her suitcase over my toes.
Stopping in the middle of the room, she lifts her shoulders on a sigh, like the short span of time she’s been here has already taken a toll.
You’d think with how much energy she’s poured into this wedding, she’d be glad it’s finally happening.
I clear my throat and walk in behind her.
It’s not a large room, so between the queen-size bed and my bulky frame, there isn’t much extra space.
But this seems like as good a time as any to clear the air.
Her whole body stiffens before she turns to face me. “Can I help you?” she asks, and the true meaning behind her words is clear. Go away.
“Is this going to be a problem the entire weekend?”
She scoffs. “Is what going to be a problem?”
“The fact that I have a dick,” I say with a smirk.
Not the most professional thing to say, but damn this woman sends me out of my mind. Her eyes track down my body and back up again. Her cheeks flush when she sees me following their movement.
“I could care less about your dick.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and the way it pushes her breasts up is indecent.
“So you do care. At least a little…” I prod, liking how flustered she’s getting.
“No, I-I meant I could not care less. Your dick is… inconsequential.”
Ouch.
“Really?” I take another step toward her. Bold, stupid move, Bryce. “Because it kind of seems like it’s a problem.”
She steps back again, more color rising in her cheeks, and I want to know if it’s because of my proximity or if she’s truly that angry.
“It’s not.” Her voice rises as she shifts back on her heels. “It’s just you in general I have a problem with.”
“And why is that, blondie?” My voice is a rough whisper, grating over the raw edges our hostility has caused.
She bristles at the nickname, advancing on me now until we’re almost chest-to-chest. She may have to look up at me, but with the sheer confidence of her stature—shoulders back, chin high—she looks anything but timid.
She’s a formidable opponent. Something I’ve known the entire time we’ve corresponded.
What I didn’t expect was to be feel drawn to her like I am.
“Stop calling me that,” she snaps, voice pitching high and loud.
“Why? Does it feel sexist to you?” I tilt my head.
“We have been over this! I am not sexist,” she seethes.
“You assumed I was a woman based on my profession,” I point out for the second time.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What do you want from me? An apology for maiming your fragile male ego? Well, Bryce”—there she goes spitting my name again—“I’m sorry your very delicate feelings got hurt because I assumed you were a woman. Better? Can you stop being an asshole now?”
“An asshole? Really? Wow.” I chuckle, but it doesn’t hold much humor. “You really don’t like me. Care to enlighten me as to what exactly I’ve done?”
She purses her lips, and her hazel eyes shift away like she’s… embarrassed? Surely not. She can't possibly feel bad about the way this has all played out. What kind of adversary would she be if she gave up so easily?
I cock my head, appraising her. Have I somehow gotten her all wrong?
“Look—” I start, but she talks over me.
“Can we just attempt to be civil?” she clips. The wall I thought was faltering a second ago is firmly rebuilt and she’s behind it again. “That might be outside the realm of possibility for you, but this is my sister’s wedding and I’d love to get it over with with minimal drama.”
Her words hit like a freight train. Get it over with.
That’s not the sentiment I’d been expecting, considering she planned this whole thing. It’s clear I’m not seeing the full picture. I’m pretty adept at discerning family dynamics and people’s motives, but I can’t seem to see beyond this woman’s smart, infuriating mouth.
“Civil. Sure,” I say curtly, and without another word, I turn and stride from the room.