Page 12 of Wild Return
He takes another step toward me, and I take a step back. If he gets too close, I might cave again. I might give in to what my body wants instead of what my head tells me I must do.
“I walked away once because I thought I was doing the right thing. I was wrong. I’m not leaving again.”
His jaw works like he wants to say something more, but I don’t give him the chance.
“Your intentions don’t matter. Your actions do.”
I swipe my purse from where I left it by my desk. “Storm or no storm, I’m driving home, because controlling how I leave is one thing I learned from you.”
I stride toward the door, not daring to look him in the eyes. I make it out of the office when the lights flicker, and for a second time we’re plunged into darkness.
I stay completely still. I’m not going to risk colliding with Viking again. If he kissed me a second time, I’m not sure I’d have the strength to walk away. But walk away is the only thing I can do to protect my heart.
I dig into my purse and find my phone at the same time that Viking gets his.
“The generator must have cut out.”
That’s not good news. “If the fermenting process is halted for too long, we’ll lose the entire batch.”
“I’ll grab my flashlight and take a look.”
I use the light from my phone to make sure I’m well clear of Viking as he moves past me to get to his office. Despite all my bravado, I won’t leave him here on his own.
While he’s in the office, my phone buzzes with a persistent alarm.
I frown at the emergency alert, and my heart sinks as I scan it.
Viking comes out of his office holding his phone up. “Did you get the alert?”
“Yes,” I bite out.
Wild Heart Mountain is now under a severe thunderstorm warning. They’ve closed all the mountain roads and are issuing a shelter-in-place for at least the next six hours.
In the faint light from his phone, there’s a ghost of a smile. “Looks like we’re stuck here together, cupcake.”
6
VIKING
Rain hammers the skylights as I sweep my flashlight beam over the wall of dead monitors. They must have shorted out with the power cut, which is no good if our thieves turn up tonight. Although I’m confident, no one will be out in this storm.
“I need to check the fermentation tanks.” Sydney sounds worried, but at least she’s still talking to me.
My lips tingle from the kiss we shared. The way she gave in to me for a few brief moments gives me hope. But right now, we need to get the generator up and running again, or we may as well drain the last few brews with the storm.
I take the lead with the flashlight as we head to the brewery floor.
Rain pounds the roof as I sweep my flashlight over the dead control panel for the fermentation tanks. The only light is the red flashing emergency light accompanied by the high-pitched screech of the alarm.
Sydney crouches next to the glycol pump and uses the light from her phone to take readings.
“The emergency battery works, so that’s good news. But it only has seven minutes left.”
She gets to her feet, and in the dim light I catch her worried expression.
“The generator’s in the dockyard cage. Come on.”
I use the flashlight to light the way as we jog across the brewery floor and slide open the heavy doors that lead to the loading bay.
