Hard Wood Read online

  With brutal clarity, I understand what I’m up against. When Mia said she feared this not ending well, it was a warning. She might not feel the same way I do.

  22

  On the drive to the airport, I do my best to put the conversation with Max out of my mind. No need for baggage, right?

  The past is the past.

  The present is a gift.

  I’m not the dude who dwells on what went wrong. I focus on the here and now. On Mia and me. On what I can offer her. Normal, considerate, easygoing. That’s my stock-in-trade, and I aim to deliver.

  I keep the conversation free and easy. We chat about the new product lines she’s working on, as well as the volunteer work she hopes to do with animal rescues here in New York.

  “WildCare is my jam,” she says, drumming her fingers on the dashboard. “I need to hook up with something like that in Manhattan.”

  “I’ve no doubt we can find an organization like that for you,” I say, turning into the airport parking lot.

  Mia smiles. “We. You said we.”

  I raise an eyebrow as I search for a spot. “Any reason I shouldn’t say we?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I just like that you think of us as a we.”

  Okay, then. Score one for this guy on Project Make Mia Fall Madly in Love with Me.

  “And I’ll be hoping the next thirty-four days pass quickly,” she adds.

  I breathe another small sigh of relief. Yep, I’m going to stay the course. Build on this connection the two of us have. That’s how I’ll deal with the Eric issue. I’ll make sure Max and I stay friends, because our friendship matters to me, and because I don’t intend to lose his sister. My goal is to keep winning Mia’s heart every goddamn day.

  And her body, too.

  And her tummy, since I know that’s a key route to her ticker.

  “You’ll be back in New York before we know it.” Then I remember a booking Dana told me about in our meeting—a trip she wanted me to handle in California. Maybe, just maybe, I can squeeze in a visit with Mia while I’m there. Nothing like a little proximity to make Mia remember why I’m the guy she can’t stop thinking about. “You know, I think I have a trip on the West Coast in the next few weeks. Something in Tahoe. I don’t have all the details yet.”

  “How serendipitous,” she says, a playful glint in her eyes, as I pull into a parking spot. “Maybe we can have lunch.”

  “Yeah, let’s do lunch, Mia,” I say drily, since we both know we want more than lunch.

  I cut the engine, open her door, and take her bag. “Carry-on?”

  She scoffs. “As if there’s any other way to fly.”

  “Traveling light. I love it.”

  As we head inside, she checks her phone. “Oh!” Her eyebrows rise in excitement.

  “Let me guess. Your flight was canceled, and you’re excited about the extra half dozen orgasms I can give you tonight?”

  As travelers scurry past us, and announcements boom in the terminal, Mia stops in her tracks and tap dances her fingers down my shirt. “Or maybe the half dozen orgasms you can give me in a tent.”

  My interest perks up, as well as my dick. I loop my arm around her waist and yank her against me.

  “Well, hello there, hard wood,” Mia says in a purr.

  I laugh. “Speaking of wood, and hard wood, and woods, I would very much like to get you under me in a tent.” I lower my voice. “And in your favorite position, too. On your hands and knees.”

  She shivers against me. “Maybe on a little secluded trail somewhere?”

  “I’m liking the sound of this in-the-woods seduction. You, me, a campfire, and a sleeping bag to share. Is that what you’re thinking? Because I would love to make you come under the stars.”

  She hums her yes out loud, and then she kisses my jaw.

  Proximity—it’s exactly what we need to make sure we work. We need to see each other. We need to touch each other. I need to remind her why she’s breaking her rule for me.

  She pulls back and meets my eyes. “I’m thinking I’d like to melt marshmallows with you in, say, another week or two when you lead the corporate retreat we just hired you for.”

  My world goes deafeningly silent amidst all the beeps and buzzes of the noisy terminal, the boarding-soon calls, and the baggage announcements.

  They are a wasteland of sound to my ears.

  “What?” I somehow manage to say, setting my hands on her shoulders.

  “That California client you have? I was hoping you'd be the one handling the trip because that’s me! That’s Pure Beauty. We don’t have to wait thirty-four days to see each other,” she says, bouncing up and down, radiating pure glee. “Surprise!”

  “The Tahoe client is you?” I ask, dumfounded.

  “Yes! You convinced me.”

  “I convinced you?” I ask, and now I’m doubly dumbfounded.

  “You told me how great the rafting trip was for the company that merged. And I thought since I’m moving my employees, this could be a great bonding experience for those making the transition, and it’s something we can keep doing once we’re all in New York. To make us a better team. Help us navigate the change. Isn’t that what you specialize in with the corporate retreats?”

  “Yeah,” I say, a stone lodged in my chest. I scrub a hand across my jaw.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Is this too soon? Is this a bad surprise? I thought it would be great for all of us. And I just received the confirmation from Felicia, who set it up. She said she was talking to Dana at your company. That was what I was so excited about when I looked at my phone.”

  Mia shows me an email from Dana confirming that our CEO and founder will be perfect for your Tahoe trip and the ongoing monthly adventure tours when your move to New York is complete. Can’t wait for you to meet Patrick Milligan. He’s a total pro outdoors, with years of experience, and all our clients love him.

  Awareness hits me hard. Dana never gave me the names of the new clients when we last met. We don’t usually discuss them as we plot out which guides will handle which bookings. We assign trips based on skill level, as well as the type of retreat. When Dana gave me the basic details—a small company wanting to contract ongoing trips to foster an ideal transition to a new location—she said I’d be perfect for it.

  And I’d agreed.

  And that also means I’m going to California to see Mia in a couple weeks. Which is precisely against the corporate guidelines I signed off on.

  “Mia, we can’t be involved if I’m working for you. I have a strict rule for all employees, including myself.”

  Her jaw drops. “What?”

  “I had some trouble earlier this year,” I say, explaining the issues that led me to tighten the rules. I give a half-hearted grin. “You could just fire us.”

  Her sigh is heavy. “Felicia already transferred the funds for the deposit.”

  23

  For a moment—okay, a few long moments—this feels insurmountable.

  But am I a man or am I a man? I guide people across the toughest trails, up mountains, and over rapids, for crying out loud.

  If I can’t find my own way across this swamp of a situation, then I should fire myself, and that’s not what I’m going to do. When you’re in the woods, you solve problems. Hell, if I can start a fire with a battery and clean a mess kit with dirt, then I can sure as hell tackle this problem head-on.

  “Don’t worry. I know what to do,” I say, then I tell Mia my plan.

  She shrugs and shoots me a lopsided smile. “And that’s why you’re not a douchey marsupial.”

  I grab her face, kiss her hard in front of the Sunday night crowds heading to distant lands, and watch as she makes her way quickly through the TSA PreCheck line. She waves from the other side of security, and then she’s gone.

  I head to my car, ready to tackle this new twist. Sure, it would be a hell of a lot easier to win her whole heart if I could use all the tools in the tool kit. I�
��d like to have my dick play its very capable part at making Mia happy.

  Instead, I psych myself up for back-to-basics time with her.

  In a hotel’s rooftop garden in Gramercy Park a few days later, Evie gives me a sharp-eyed stare. “Why don’t you just assign her a new guide?”

  “Obviously, that thought has occurred to me,” I say, since that’s the first thing I considered.

  “Then why didn’t you do it?” Evie asks as she wanders through the exclusive establishment, a ten-table garden restaurant that she considers perfect for a first date. I follow her as she tests each table, like Goldilocks, for one of her potential couples. The restaurant is empty since it’s midday, but the manager is letting her check it out.

  “Because I can handle it,” I say. She pats the seat across from her, and I take it. “Besides, she requested me. And yes, I have guides, and I will still have a local guide along with me, but this is my specialty, leading this type of adventure tour-slash-retreat. This is why she hired my company.” I tap my chest for emphasis. “For me.”

  Evie rises and gestures to the next table. “Fine. No one is as good as you. I understand.”

  “That’s not what I mean. But it also is what I mean. If someone hires you as a matchmaker, they want you. They want Evie Milligan, the matchmaker who searches for the optimal table in a rooftop garden restaurant to make sure her potential match has the best first date possible.”

  She turns and stares at me. “But if I had junior matchmakers, I’d farm out some of the work.”

  “Would you, though?” I ask pointedly as she tries a table in the far-right corner with a stunning view of downtown Manhattan. “Or would you still test all the tables yourself?”

  She narrows her eyes and wags a finger. “Fine, fine. I understand. It’s not one you can hand off. Why not just change the rules, though?”

  I slash a hand through the air. “No way. We revised the employee guidelines for a reason. I can’t just say, ‘Oh, I was kidding.’ And I definitely can’t say they don’t apply to me.”

  “But isn’t she your girlfriend now? That doesn’t make her exempt?”

  “Oddly enough, I didn’t make a girlfriend provision.” I smack my forehead. “What was I thinking?” Evie rises, and I follow her to one more table. “But seriously, if I use that loophole, then anyone can give retroactive relationship-status to whoever they hook up with. No screwing the customers has to mean no screwing the customers.”

  She runs her hand along the crisp tablecloth. “Is there that much boinking in the woods that you need these hardcore rules?”

  I laugh. “Have you ever been camping? I swear half the babies in the world have been made in tents. It’s one huge bang-fest sometimes.”

  “I guess that’s why you went into this field,” she says playfully.

  “Ha ha. But seriously, it’s all good. I have a plan.”

  She sits in the chair, crossing her legs. “And what is this brilliant plan?”

  I sit across from her and lay out my strategy. “I’ll do her trip, as requested, as planned. But I’ll also spend some time beforehand finding the best guide for her here on the East Coast, so I can reassign her company when she moves to New York. I have enough people out here who can handle the type of day trips she wants once she’s here, so I just need to work with Dana and find the right match. And as for the Tahoe trip, I’m the guy. I’m the one who needs to lead it,” I say, cracking my knuckles. “And that means I’ll be a good Boy Scout.”

  Evie doubles over. “That’s a good one.”

  “Why is that so funny?”

  She points at me. “You think”—she’s laughing so hard she can barely breathe—“that you”—more laughter bursts from her—“can put the genie back in the bottle?”

  I square my shoulders. “Easy as pie.”

  After all, what’s so hard about a week of celibacy with the woman I’m crazy for?

  24

  Day One is a piece of cake. After we ride around the Truckee River on mountain bikes in the morning, Mia and her twenty-five employees take a break to play the stuck-on-a-deserted-island game, a standard icebreaker for these sorts of retreats.

  “Which three items would you want if you were stranded on a deserted island?” Mia asks from her perch on a large boulder at the edge of the water, rays of sunlight stretching across the blue surface behind her.

  She looks to Lisa, her VP, who I’ve learned is the practical one, which she demonstrates when she picks a map, a knife, and a satellite phone.

  “I like that. I’ll stick by your side,” Mia says.

  Next is a guy named Otis who works in the IT department. He opts for swim trunks, sunscreen, and a Tardis, thrusting a fist in the air rocker-style as he shouts, “TV is educational. Thank you, Doctor Who.”

  Mia nods her appreciation for his answer. “You’ve always been a master at finding work-arounds.”

  We go through the rest of the crew, and when it’s Mia’s turn, she taps her finger against her lip. “I choose a plane, a pilot, and . . . some fuel.”

  I shoot her a smile that says well played.

  “And you, Patrick?” Lisa asks, peering over her sunglasses, her black hair in a high ponytail. “It’s only fair that the guides play, too.” She gestures to me and Blair, a guide I hired recently. Blair pretty much lives and breathes the outdoors. Twin braids run down her back, freckles line her cheeks, and she’s always smiling. She’ll be with us for the whole trip since the group is large enough to need two guides.

  “You want to go first, Blair?”

  She shakes her head, her braids swinging. “No way. I’m dying to know what the boss would take.”

  “Yes, tell us,” Otis says, rubbing his palms together, goading me on.

  I glance at Mia, who wears a playful we’re waiting look.

  I blow out a long stream of air, stare off into the bright, blue sky, and pretend I’m noodling on the question. “A toothbrush for sure. Since who wants stinky breath when you’re stuck, right?”

  Lisa narrows her eyes, as if I can’t really have given that answer.

  “A snack would be good,” I add, furrowing my brow as if I’m deeply pondering the question. “Maybe an energy bar or a bag of nuts.”

  “That’s what you’d take? A bag of nuts?” an incredulous Otis asks, his eyes bugging out like a cartoon character.

  I hold up a finger. “I didn’t get to my third item yet.” I wiggle an eyebrow. “I’d also take Mia . . . because she has a plane, pilot, and fuel with her.”

  Otis hoots. “I bow down to you. That’s the best work-around ever.”

  Mia laughs. “And I see Patrick is excellent not only at backpacking, but piggybacking.”

  When the break ends, just before we hop on our bikes, Mia whispers to me in a flirty voice, “Piggybacking,” as if it’s some new naughty term. Then she stops herself. “Wait. I’m sure that’s a terribly inappropriate term for something I don’t even want to know about.”

  I laugh. “Hey now. You’re supposed to behave.”

  We cruise around the lake for the rest of the day, until we return to the inn where everyone is staying for the first two nights of the four-night trip. After dinner and some relaxation time, I call it a night.

  Alone.

  In my room.

  I’ll admit it. A part of me hopes Mia will tiptoe over to visit me here on the other side of the inn.

  Okay, two parts of me. My dick and my heart.

  And fine, my brain wants it, too.

  But we made a deal.

  Or really, I insisted upon one, and I’m glad she’s honoring my wishes, especially when curiosity wins, and I learn the terribly inappropriate term refers to when one person piggybacks off another’s porn during a solo ride, watching over the shoulder. The way I see it, I don’t want to be sneaking up on Mia when she’s savoring her own delicious body. I want to be a major player in all the action when she’s in my bed, in my home, living in my house.

  It’s a shar
p moment of clarity brought to me by Urban Dictionary.

  And I groan with the stark realization that I do want her to live with me. There isn’t just a part of me that wants that, like I thought when we joked about it at my apartment. All of me wants that. I don’t want to mess around with separate places. I want to pick her up at the airport when she lands in New York in twenty-four more days, and take her to her new home.

  Mine.

  Kayak time is the next morning, and Blair leads this part of the trip, while I help her out. After a few hours, the group breaks for lunch. As everyone else heads to picnic tables, Mia hangs back, waiting for me.

  “So . . .” A curious tone threads through her voice.

  “So to you, too.”

  “Blair’s cute.”

  I glance at Blair, several yards ahead, then to Mia by my side. “Is she?”

  “You know she is.”

  I arch a skeptical brow. “Do I?”

  “You do know that.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.” Except that I like Mia’s jealousy.

  She narrows her eyes and whispers under her breath. “Do you think she’s cute?”

  I sigh. “Mia, she works for me.”

  “Do you?” she presses.

  I flash her a grin. “Does it drive you crazy not knowing?”

  Her eyes are fierce as she answers, “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Say it, Mia.”

  She crosses her arms and huffs.

  I shrug as we walk toward the tables. “Okay, don’t say it.”

  “I don’t want you to think anyone else is cute,” she blurts under her breath.

  That’s another plus in the quest to win her whole heart—a jealous, possessive Mia. I like her jealous side a hell of a lot. Naturally, I have no choice but to tease her as we amble by the water. A chipmunk scurries along the ground, and I gesture to the little fella. “What about a chipmunk, though? Chipmunks are cute.”

  “They are.”

  “How about baby birds? The kind you rescue.”