Sunlight (Haven River Ranch)

The sound of clopping hooves mingled with voices outside my office. The guys were prepping for the day, getting horses saddled as they talked and joked around.

I enjoyed managing the guides and having that responsibility, but part of me missed the days when I was a trail guide. When it was just Wyatt and me running the excursions.

But Wyatt was gone now. He’d worked here for years until retiring this fall. He was a snowbird now, spending his winters in Arizona and summers in Montana.

Without him, I was the oldest person in the stables. At twenty-nine, I was in charge. How weird was that? There were days when I missed just being told what to do. When I didn’t have to be the man with answers.

At least I had hiring authority. It was nice to choose my own staff.

When Indya had moved here, she’d brought on some high school kids to come and work during the summer. They’d been a huge help at a time when we’d needed it. Since then, I’d followed her lead, and we’d had a rotating crop of young men who worked different seasons.

It meant there was a steady stream of new faces. And while I hadn’t minded the constant shuffling, it was strange this year without Wyatt. He’d provided a constant I hadn’t noticed until it was missing.

There were only three guides working through the winter. On days when there wasn’t much demand for excursions or private riding lessons, the guys would pitch in with snow removal or other jobs at the resort.

This summer, my staff would quadruple. There were four kids coming home from college who’d work for us during the busy season. The others I’d hire in early spring. There always seemed to be a ski bum or two who were bored in the summer, needed extra cash, and liked leading the guided hikes.

Meanwhile, I found myself at this desk more often than not. I’d cover if anyone called in sick. I’d lead rides for VIP guests if necessary, but otherwise, I made sure my team was trained and capable. And today was my weekly organize shit day. The papers on the desk rustled as I stacked them into a pile.

The conversation outside came to a grinding halt, the change enough to steal my attention toward the open door, papers frozen in my hands.

“Good morning. Is Jax here?”

Sasha.

I grinned. Finally, she’d ventured onto my turf.

“Morning, Ms. Vaughn,” one of the guys said. “He’s in his office.”

“Thanks.”

I tossed the papers aside and relaxed in my chair, folding my hands on my stomach as I waited.

Sasha approached the threshold slowly, each hesitant step accentuated with the click of her shoes on concrete. Then she peered around the corner and into the office like a rabid coyote was waiting inside to bite. She straightened, clearing her throat, when she found my waiting gaze. “Um, hi.”

“Morning.” I gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Come on in. Coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Her gaze flickered over the mess on my desk, her lip curling like it did when someone talked about the weather. As she sat in one of the leather guest chairs, her gaze surveyed the entire room.

“Want to take off your coat?” I asked.

“No, that’s all right.” Her black parka looked warm, but her nose and cheeks were rosy from the walk over. Though she did take off her gloves, tucking them into a pocket. “This is quite the office.”

“I like it.”

It was an office that Indya had originally designed for West, spacious with the same high-end finishes she’d incorporated across the resort. Except West preferred to work from his office at their house, away from the bustle of the guests. So with this space open, I’d traded up. The office next door that had originally been mine was now a break room for the guides.

“You’ve got a lot of, um . . . a lot.” Her entire body shuddered as she grimaced at the mess.

I was so fucking glad I hadn’t tidied up yet.

The couch against the wall was buried beneath coats and snow gear. My chaps were draped over the leather recliner I used for my afternoon power naps. There was an extra pair of boots tossed in the corner beside the tennis shoes I’d left behind this fall after a jog.

The bar where I kept my single-serve coffee maker and a few bottles of my favorite bourbons was in complete disarray. Dirty mugs. Used coffee pods. A wadded napkin.

My house was clean. I liked a clean house. But my truck and office never got the same treatment. My truck got cleaned only when the window was so filmy I couldn’t see clearly. And this office, well . . . admittedly, it was overdue.

“Here to talk about excursions?” I asked.

Sasha tore her gaze from the disaster, meeting mine for a brief moment before she looked at the desk. “Maybe I should come back. Give you time to prepare.”

“Nah. I’m ready.” I shuffled a few papers around. “This won’t take long. There is a method to this chaos.”

“I don’t think I want to learn this method,” she muttered.

“Smart choice.” I chuckled. “All you really need to know is that every week, I email Indya a list of the prior week’s excursions. It summarizes each activity. The guide. The duration. The guests. I’ll kick it your way too. If you need any other information, just let me know. Happy to add more detail.”

“Do you just get that information from the reservation system database?”

“If by database you mean these, then yes.” I picked up one of the papers on my desk and handed it over. It was an excursion report that the guides filled out after each activity.

“This is what you use.” Sasha turned the paper over, probably searching for more. But it was just the one page.

“Yep. That’s what we use. The guides fill out the details and turn them in at the end of every outing. I’ve found that it encourages the guys to learn and remember names. If there are any issues or incidents, they can add them to the comment section.”

She scanned my desk, seeing the piles of summary sheets.

“I’ve already emailed Indya about these. Just haven’t filed the originals away. I hate filing.”

“Filing.” Sasha blinked. “You mean actual, physical files.”

I pointed to the cabinets beneath the bar. “Yep.”

“So how do guests sign up?”

“There’s a sign-up sheet for every excursion at the front desk. Guests just go down and register. Before each activity, guides go in and collect the final list, then round up the people going. This calendar right here”—I shuffled enough papers around that she could see the large desk calendar beneath the clutter—“is where I note which excursions are offered each day. Once a week, I take the sign-ups to the lobby.”

“So paper. It’s all tracked on paper.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I feel like I’ve stepped back in time fifty years.”

“Believe it or not, sometimes a pen and paper work just fine.”

“It’s just so . . .”

“Old fashioned.”

“I was going to say inefficient.”

“Let’s use old fashioned. It’s a nicer term.” I grinned as her lip curled. Sasha didn’t have a poker face. I liked that. A lot.

“I—” She stopped herself, holding out both hands. “Okay. Paper.”

“You’re not going to suggest I try out an app or software program?”

“Would you say yes if I did?”

“No.”

“Thought so,” she mumbled.

I laughed. “My grandparents used this system. It worked for them. Figured it was good enough for me too.”

“So it’s sentimental.”

I shrugged. “You could call it that.”

“All right.” She dropped her gaze to the fingers fidgeting on her lap.

I waited, expecting her to scurry away to the lodge, to the world where Indya was in charge and had modernized the resort’s systems. Every housekeeper carried an iPad. Reservations for the dining room were all made electronically. The same was true for the spa.

But instead of leaving, Sasha sank deeper into the chair, her shoulders finally resting against the back.

“This isn’t related to your process. But if the offer is still available, would it be possible for me to stay in your cabin for a while?”

Huh. Well, that was unexpected. She’d left in such a rush yesterday that I’d assumed she’d either hated the cabin—not likely, because it was fucking awesome—or she’d loved it. And if Sasha loved something that was mine, she might have to admit it. Hence, the swift departure.

I smirked. “How hard was it to ask that question?”

The moment her nostrils flared, I regretted opening my damn mouth. Like a snake bit her in the ass, she shot out of the chair and stormed out of the door.

“Damn it.” I got to my feet so fast that my chair’s wheels skidded across the floor and it went crashing into the wall. “Sasha.”

She kept walking through the stables.

“Would you just wait a minute?”

“Forget it,” she barked over her shoulder. Her silky hair was down today, a rare change. It swished across her shoulders.

“Yes, you can stay at the cabin.” I lengthened my stride, veering around her until I blocked her path to the door.

She drew up short so we didn’t crash. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and leveled me with that glare I shouldn’t have found so sexy. “If I move in, will you throw it in my face every five seconds?”

“No, I’m a cowboy. Once upon a time, I thought it would be fun to be a bull rider. We shoot for eight seconds, not five.”

“Oh my God, this was a mistake.” She shifted to move around me, but I blocked her path again.

“I’m kidding.” I laughed. “I have no plans of throwing anything in your face, all right? The cabin is all yours, harassment-free.”

She studied me for a long moment before finally dropping her arms. “Fine. Thank you. I’ll come out after work.”

“I’m almost finished remodeling the laundry room. I should have the washer and dryer in next week. You’ll have to wait on laundry until then, or you can use my machines.”

“No problem.”

I glanced to the guides who—nosy shitheads—were all hovering by a nearby stall, trying to listen in. I jerked my chin and sent them a collective scowl to get back to work, then stepped closer to Sasha and lowered my voice. “For curiosity’s sake, why’d you change your mind about the cabin?”

She tugged on her earlobe, something I hadn’t seen her do before. It was cute. And, oddly, sexy too. What did it mean? Maybe if she was living next door, I’d have a chance to find out.

“My neighbors are idiots,” she said. “They had a party or something last night, and one of their guests got mixed up on which front door to use. He came into mine and proceeded to vomit his dinner on my living room floor.”

“What the fuck?” My voice was louder than I’d expected, and she jolted. “Sorry. You’re serious?”

“Yep.” She popped the p. “Not the best night I’ve ever had. My landlord is having the door’s lock fixed and will get the carpets cleaned. If I could just stay at your cabin until then, that would be great.”

Oh, she’d be staying longer than that. Not a chance in hell I was letting her go back to that shithole. But that would be a discussion we’d have later. “No problem.”

“Thanks.”

I stepped closer. “You okay?”

“I’m good.” Sasha didn’t look to the ceiling as she spoke, but I didn’t need the tell to spot her lie.

I lifted my hand, my fingers itching to touch her face, but stopped myself. What was it about her that made me always want to touch? All the damn time. The pink cheeks. Her silky hair. Those freckles dusting her nose.

I shifted so close there was barely an inch between us, but she didn’t shy away. This was the closest we’d been since the grocery store. That was something, right?

Sasha’s eyes dropped to my mouth. Her gaze clung there, for just a moment, until it slammed to the floor.

So she liked my mouth. I knew it. I fucking knew it. This attraction wasn’t one sided. Not even a bit.

When she looked up again, that cool stare was fixed in place.

It only made me smirk, which made her scowl deepen.

She could glare at me all she wanted. I didn’t give a damn. I knew what it looked like when a woman wanted a kiss. And Sasha wanted to be kissed.

It took every ounce of willpower not to do a fist pump.

Was that why she’d been so prickly these past three months? Because she felt this attraction too?

“Want some help getting stuff from your place in town?” I asked.

She cleared her throat, shaking her head as she took a step back. “I can manage.”

“You sure?” I stepped forward, keeping us so close that the toes of my boots nearly touched hers. “We could grab your stuff. Go do dinn—”

A horse whinnied.

The sound caught my attention just enough that I looked away. And that was all the window Sasha needed to escape. She sidestepped me faster than I’d expected and hurried to the door.

Only when she was gone did I let out a frustrated groan, tipping my head back to the rafters. “Couldn’t keep the horses quiet for just a few fucking minutes, huh, guys?”

All three of the guides laughed. “Sorry, boss.”

“No, you’re not,” I grumbled and retreated to my office.

It smelled like coffee and hay and horses, the usual scents. But beneath them was a hint of something sweet and fresh. Sasha’s perfume.

I shut the door, hoping to trap it inside for a few moments. Then I got to work filing papers and cleaning up the office.

When the five guests for the midmorning excursion were gathered, I greeted them and shook hands before they left for their short trail ride through the snow. When they returned, I helped with the horses, then did it all over again for the afternoon ride.

Montana winter days were short, and by the time I left at five o’clock, it was dark. Sasha’s car was still in the employee parking lot, so I headed toward home.

I parked in my garage, then walked over to the cabin, doing a quick sweep of the rooms to make sure there were no tools left behind that would get in her way. I ducked into the laundry room, took off the flannel I’d pulled on over a T-shirt this morning, popped in my earbuds, and got to work.

Sweat beaded at my temples after the hour it took me to apply the sealant to the stone tile. With it finished, I stood from my hands and knees, pulling out my headphones. Then I used the hem of my tee to wipe my face dry.

A tickle of cold air skated across my skin, drawing my attention down the hall.

Sasha stood in the open doorway with a suitcase in each hand. Her mouth was parted, her eyes locked on my flat stomach.

Another man might have dropped his shirt, but I had great fucking abs, so I kept it raised. “Hey.”

She blinked, ripping her gaze away to glance around the room. Her face followed the movement of her eyes in a circle. “Hi. I, um, didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“Just finished for today.” I dabbed my forehead again. It was dry, but I really liked the color that tinged her cheeks when she was flustered. And apparently, a six-pack was all it took to unravel Sasha Vaughn.

I reluctantly dropped my shirt and picked up the flannel off the floor as well as my sponge and the rest of the sealant bottle.

“Is there more in the car?” I nodded toward her luggage.

“Yes, but I can get it.” She carried the suitcases out of the doorway, setting them aside before rushing outside again. By the time I was done washing off my sponge and hands, she’d hauled in three more bags, piling them beside the others.

“What about furniture?” I asked. “West and I can bring a horse trailer into town tomorrow to get your bigger stuff.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” She waved it off as she closed the door, then bent to unzip her ankle boots, pulling them off to place neatly beside the door.

“You’re just going to leave your stuff in the rental?”

“Yes, for now. I don’t see any reason to bother with it if I’m only here for a short time.”

There was nothing short time about this situation, but I’d let her fall in love with the cabin first. I’d let these walls do the convincing for me, then we’d move her furniture later.

“How was the rest of your day?” I asked.

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.” I leaned against the counter, my hands gripping the edge as I crossed an ankle over the other.

Sasha’s gaze traveled down my legs to my white socks—my boots were beside the door too. She stared at my feet like they were safer than my face.

I wiggled my toes.

She immediately sprang into action, moving for her belongings to put them away.

I waited until she was down the hall before I shoved off the counter and grabbed the rest of her bags, following her to the primary bedroom.

She had her face in her hands when I reached the door. Her suitcases on the carpet by her feet.

“What’s wrong?”

She jumped, pressing a hand to her heart. “Shit. You startled me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She waved it off. “Thanks.”

“Where do you want these?” I lifted up her bags.

“Anywhere is fine.”

I stepped inside and set them on the bed.

Sasha gave me a wide berth, but it wasn’t enough distance for me not to smell her perfume.

A perfume I wouldn’t mind having on my sheets and pillows.

“Are you hungr—”

The flash of headlights flickered through the bedroom window.

Sasha shot out of the bedroom like it was on fire.

I threw a glare outside at whoever was here to ruin yet another attempt at asking Sasha to dinner. But my irritation was short lived as Emery’s Jeep Wrangler parked outside my house. “Shit.”

Sasha was standing in the center of the living room when I came down the hall. She’d put as many pieces of furniture between us as possible.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” I said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure. Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“No problem.” I snagged my flannel from where I’d left it on the counter, quickly shrugging it on before I stowed the sponge and sealant beneath the kitchen sink and tugged on my boots. “Night.”

“Good night.” Sasha nodded as I lifted a hand and slipped outside.

Emery was at my front door when I walked over, my breath billowing as my boots crunched in the snow. There was an overnight bag by her feet.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She smiled for three seconds before it crumpled.

Fuck. I hauled her into my arms as she started to cry. “You okay?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

She didn’t answer. Not that she needed to.

Calvin, her prick of a husband, was what had happened.

“What do you need?”

She pulled away and blew out a breath. “A stiff drink. And maybe a night on your couch.”

“You got it.” I bent to pick up her bag.

“Who’s that?” she asked, her gaze trained past my shoulder at the cabin.

I turned just as Sasha moved away from the living room window. “Sasha. She’s the new manager at the resort. She’s got a place in town that’s having some work done so she’s crashing here for a little while.”

“Ah.”

A different night, I’d tell Emery all about Sasha. How we’d met. How she’d come to stay in the cabin. How I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

But tonight was not the night.

Not when, even in the dark, I could spot the tear tracks down Emery’s cheeks.

So I put my arm around her shoulders and steered her inside. “Let’s see about that drink.”