Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I jog back to the truck, take off my gloves and slide into the driver’s seat. I catch Rosey’s eye as I slam my door shut.
I narrow my eyes, and she blushes. “What?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “You’re hot. That’s all.”
I chuckle. “You like watching me doing manual labor, do you?”
“Sue me,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly.
“There are plenty of other things I’d prefer to do to you,” I say, because I can’t not. I put the truck into drive.
“Maybe later,” she says and keeps her eyes on the road.
My heart inches in my chest at her words. I’m half tempted to pull over again and bend her over the hood of this truck. I shake my head and try to get my head back where it needs to be. I can’t think about any of that right now. I just want to get to the Club and work out the damage.
We pull into the drive of the Club and everything looks fine. It’s a good start, but no more than I would have expected. This area around the main building was fully finished.
As we get out of the cab, Hart comes out, followed by Kathleen.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” Hart says, his gaze flitting between me and Rosey.
“Phone lines are still down,” I say. “How are things here? Everyone safe?” I watch Rosey as she disappears into the main building. I don’t get to say “see you later” or “thanks for the best night of my life.” I need to focus on the Club.
“Yeah, everyone was fine in the main building,” Hart says. “We barely heard the rain and wind. Head of construction is doing a full walk-through now, but we think the peripheral buildings have fared a lot better than expected. The chalets are all fine, except one where the shutters weren’t installed.”
I raise my eyebrows. I don’t need to ask why a shutter wasn’t finished. Kathleen can see my question in my expression.
“I know, I know,” Kathleen says. “But there are always going to be mistakes made in these circumstances. That’s the nature of human beings. One chalet isn’t bad. The only other real damage is a leak from the roof of the second block of staff accommodations. The temporary fix for the roof couldn’t withstand the amount of rain.”
At that moment, Ralph, our construction foreman, rounds the corner followed by a couple of other men I recognize from his team.
“Ralph. How are things?”
“Not bad. The main thing is we’ve had no significant mudslide and that’s because we kept as much of the existing trees and vegetation as possible. Then we’ve got some damage to one chalet and the roof of the second staff housing block.”
“Kathleen said as much. How long will it set us back?” I ask.
“The roof is a problem. That’ll cost us at least a week.”
“I want you to prioritize that over the chalet.” Repairing staff housing first means one of the marketing visits will have to be pushed back. “We can’t run this place if we don’t have the staff.”
“We’re on it,” he says.
My cell starts to ring. “Looks like we have service back.” It’s Worth, one of my closest friends. “I’ll catch you later, Hart.”
“How are you?” Worth asks as I accept the call.
“Fine. Spent most of the night in a tornado shelter, but it didn’t hit in the end.”
“I still don’t believe you can get tornados in the mountains,” Jack says. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re on speaker, in case you hadn’t guessed,” Worth says. “We just finished a run and thought we’d check in.”
A pang of loneliness catches me off guard. After last night, it would be good to go to Worth’s for a beer tonight. It feels like there’s been so much pressure leading up to last night, that all my adrenaline is seeping away and I’m not sure what’s going to take its place. “I miss you guys,” I say. It’s not something I’d normally admit—to myself, let alone them.
“We miss you too,” he replies.
“I don’t miss him,” Jack says. “If he prefers Colorado to New York, he’s not the sort of friend I want. He can go live out his cowboy fantasy without me involved in any of it.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not in anyone’s cowboy fantasy,” I say with a grin.
Jack chuckles. “You never know, we might come out and visit sometime. What’s there to do out there? Lasso some cows? Catch some fish?” Jack was born and raised in New York City. He’s more likely to go to St. Tropez than Colorado. There’s no way I’ll be able to get him to come out and visit. He doesn’t even go to Aspen—he prefers Chamonix. But I love him anyway.
“When this place is finished, I’ll figure out a way to get you all here. Fair warning, if you try and lasso cows, you’re going to get arrested, Jack. And just so you manage your expectations, there’s not a spare room in the entire town at the moment.”