“Of course I do.” I let her into the room and shut the door behind her just as the front door chimes. Frowning, I flip the ‘occupied’ sign on room two, and then head back toward the front waiting area. I don’t have anyone else lined up this afternoon and I never take walk-ins.
I’m more than a little surprised to see Pat Samson standing in my spa, peering over my Zen water fountain. He’s got his camo trucker cap in his hand and is squeezing the bill repeatedly.
“Hi, Pat. What brings you here?” I keep my voice pleasant, though I’ve got a funny knot in my stomach at the sight of him.
It can’t be coincidence that Cole tells me he doesn’t want me to go camping with Pat, and then Pat shows up several hours later. That’s a little too neat, if you ask me.
Pat nods at me. “Just wanted to come and see if you had any questions about the trip this weekend? Weather’s a go so far.”
I relax a little. He’s just being friendly. It has nothing to do with that jerk Cole. “I’m still a go. Leo’s getting some camping gear for me.”
“Remember some thermals. Might be a cold night on Friday.” He gives me a flirty look. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to curl up with me, of course.”
I chuckle, because it’s rather pleasant to have a guy flirt with you. “Nice try. I’m getting a heavy-duty sleeping bag. But I thank you for the offer.”
He winks. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”
“Can’t say that,” I agree. And out of habit, I look over at Cole’s sporting goods store. If I squint, I can just barely make out a face staring over here.
I can just picture the glare on Cole’s face. Did he see Pat come over here? Is that getting on his nerves? Good. I want him to stew a little. I’m still wounded from earlier this morning.
It’s that remembered slight that makes me toss my hair and lean forward on my counter to smile at Pat. “So, are we going to see any wildlife out on this trip? I’d love to see some deer.”
Suck it, Cole.
3
Cole
Pat Samson’s tour group shows up around four in the afternoon. They’re young, cute, and bubbly. Samson’s tour guide webpage has multiple pictures of him shirtless, holding an ax over his shoulder, and sweating lightly. Running around in the North woods without a shirt in the summer is asking for Lyme disease.
But the ladies eat that shit up. Rumor is that Samson sleeps with at least one of his guests each trip. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but there’s no way Adelaide is going with them.
No way.
I bite my tongue as the ladies flit around the shop, cooing over some wood carvings that Mal Standard whittles in his solitary cabin on the other side of the lake. If these women picked their camping guide based on the amount of oil Samson pours over himself for a photograph instead of the actual reviews full of angry and unhappy customers, they deserve whatever happens to them. Still…after the last one hops out the door, I pick up the phone.
“Pine Lodge and Resort,” a young man answers.
By the tremor in his voice, it must be Dillon. Dillon’s thirteen and undergoing a lot of puberty changes. On any given hour of the day, his voice could be two octaves different from the last time you spoke with him. “Dillon, it’s Cole Braxton. I need to speak with Eli.”
“He’s got a group with him.”
I scratch my head. “Get a pen.”
The Solberg boys are forgetful. On the other end of the line, I hear Dillon rummaging through at least four drawers before he huffs back to the phone. “Got it.”
“Write down there’s a group of three women who are heading out with Samson as a guide starting tomorrow.”
“Make that four,” Leo breezes back in and starts plucking items off the shelf. My eyes narrow.
“Four?” Dillon chirps.
“Three,” I say firmly glaring at Leo. He’s unfazed.
“Okay. What else?” he asks.
“That’s it. Your uncle will know what to do.” I hang up and round the counter.
Leo holds up a lightweight backpack. “This your best woman’s pack? I want to make sure I get a good one.”
I grab it from him and hang it back on the hook. Arms crossed, I glower at Leo. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll need to call Eli back and tell him it’s four women. I don’t want him passing up the Samson group just because of a miscount.” His eyes dance as he taunts me. It doesn’t take much brain power to guess who the fourth one is.
“She’s not going,” I tell him. The pulse point at my temple starts throbbing.
“Oh, she is.” He pulls the pack off the wall again. “I was just over there, and she was telling me how excited she was. It’s her first real vacation from the spa, and she wants to get the true native experience.”
I rip the pack away from him and take it into the back room. Leo trots after me. “She’s not getting anything but bit up to hell by bugs and fed shitty water. She’ll come home with the runs and won’t be able to work at her shop for five days. Then she’ll hate this town and leave for Minneapolis where she’ll meet some pansy-assed actuary and be bored out of her ever-loving skull.”