Page 11 of Worth the Rush
“Again,” he adds, and I narrow my eyes.
“Yes. At least this time, you weren’t—” I’m cut off.
“Plowing into you?” he asks, using my earlier words againstme. The look on his face and suggestive tone elude to more than an innocent run-in. I squirm. Realizing I’m still lying across his lap, I sit up. The motion once again makes me dizzy. Warm hands gently grip my shoulders, and that’s annoyingly comforting. “Easy there,” he murmurs.
“Okay, let’s not speak to me like I’m a feral animal,” I reply between clenched teeth. His deep, relaxed chuckle skitters up my spine. He stands and slowly pulls me to my feet. “Thank you,” I relent.
“Anytime.” Hmm…
“Have you seen a jar with orange strips in it?” I ask while looking back at the couch. He steps to the side and bends to pick the small jar off the floor.
“This?” he asks and holds it out to me.
“Yes.” I open it and eat two sugar-coated citrus strips. This isn’t the best thing to get my blood sugar up, but it’ll have to do because I forgot to grab a juice. Or eat anything. After chewing them quickly I look over at him staring at me. Then I remember that I don’t know why he’s back here.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, a little accusingly. His head tilts to the side before answering.
“In my office?” He pauses. “I wasn’t sure I needed a reason. I am curious why you’re in here, though, not that I’m complaining.” He’s teasing me, but shit. This is embarrassing. “And not to sound like one of the three bears, but it looks like someone’s been sleeping on my couch,” he says in a way that has me clenching my jaw. I couldn’t have chosen anyone else’s couch. I try to think of something to say, anything that would let me save a little face. Footsteps in the hall save me from my floundering.
“Ms. Rutherford! There you are! It looks like you’ve met our?—”
“Snowboarding instructor,” Alder cuts in. “We met briefly this morning.” he says to Jack and then turns to me. “Have we met before? I feel like we might have,” he asks me pointedly. I scowl and also flush with a fresh wave of annoyance.
I pretend to think for a second. “Sorry, I don’t think so. Must not have been that memorable,” I claim as innocently as possible. The reality of our current situation is that I got my socks knocked off last night, and he absolutely got his world rocked.
“Alder, this is Ms. Rutherford, our new hospitality manager,” Jack says, walking into the small office. I look back to Alder, and he’s looking at me, both brows raised in surprise now. Well, it looks like we’re both a little caught off guard.
“You’re the new hospitality manager?” His question doesn’t give me the impression he’s happy about this development. Well, back at you. I clear my throat and stick out my hand between us.
“Ivy Rutherford,” I say my own name and hate it.
“Alder Holloway,” he replies, retaining eye contact while taking my hand in his. His warm, calloused hand wrapping around mine sends a pulse up my arm. I feel lightheaded again, and it’s not from the low blood sugar.
“Nice to meet you.” Thankfully, my voice comes out much steadier than I feel. He smirks. Damn, and there’s that dimple I can see through the scruff on his face.
“Nice to meet you too, Ivy.” My name on his tongue makes me think I’d like to hear him say it again. How unfortunate that we’ll be working together. I pull my hand back, and my fingers slip through his. The sensation fades, and I don’t know whether it’s my blood sugar returning to a normal level or the loss of contact, but I’m slowly feeling less fuzzy.
“Now that introductions are out of the way, how has your day been, Ivy?” Jack cuts through the tension I’m feeling, and I’m grateful for it.
“It’s going really well. Thanks, Jack. The property is beautiful, and I’m excited to implement a few ideas to increase revenue and improve customer experience,” I tell him. His smile turns worrisome, so I rush to reassure him. “Everything you’ve done here is great, and I’m not looking to come in and mess up anything anyone has worked hard on. I just have a few ideas to add to what you’ve already created.” He seems slightly mollified by this.
“That sounds great, Ms. Rutherford. We can’t wait to hear more,” he tells me, and I believe him. Jack is a charmer, but I’m not interested in anything more here. He may become a friend, and that’s really all I’m in the market for.
“Please, call me Ivy,” I insist, and we smile at each other in camaraderie. Alder’s throat clearing has us both turning back to him.
“Well, if that’s all you need me for today, Jack. I think I’ll be on my way,” he says this to Jack without looking at me. It gives me a chance to study him. It’s probably a bad idea. He’s as gorgeous as he was in the bar’s dim lighting. That feels unfair. Wavy dark-blond hair and a jaw that could cut fucking glass. The scruff on said jaw is—unfortunately, still very attractive. Broad shoulders, and how tall is he? How had I not noticed last night? six foot three? six foot four? He’s really not my brand of heroin, but I have a feeling this man is everyone’s drug of choice.Shit. I’m thinking in Twilight references again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks Alder. He sounds confused, which makes me feel confused. Why would he want to stay for this?
“Nah, I need to get going,” he replies.
“Of course. I’ll see you in a couple days. Thanks for filling in on your day off,” Jack tells him.
“No worries,” he says easily, then dips his chin at me. “Ivy,” he says my name instead of goodbye.I like the sound of my name coming out of his mouth too much.I nod my head and give him a tight smile.
“Alder. I look forward to working with you,” I say, and he grins at that. Looking amused as he walks out his office door, my interaction with him leaves me feeling unsettled, fidgeting with the lid on my candy jar. I’m not sure what’s amusing to him, but I have a feeling I wouldn’t think the same.
The drive down the mountain still requires my full attention, even though road crews have cleared the main road since our last snowfall. The anniversary of Ray’s death is today, and I’m not looking forward to spending all evening with my family like I usually would. I love them and know they mean well, but insisting I come down for dinner tonight, knowing that I would rather be alone, is getting to me. Compacted with the fact that my second run-in with Silverthorne’s newest resident has left me with feelings I’m not interested in dissecting. I’m not in my usual fun-loving state.
