“It’s paintball,” Colt said patiently. “Can’t Pop handle it?”
“Pop’s already pretty busy,” Dane said, earning him a scowl from Colt. “Don’t look at me like that. He is always busy. Brenna keeps him hopping.”
Colt glanced at Grant. “You going to run it for us, then?”
“My family’s in town, so I’m going to be busy with them for the next few weeks.” Grant tugged at his collar as if it were too tight. That was impossible. The man probably had his clothes tailored so he could look perfect at all times. Brenna rolled her eyes at the thought and wiped the crumbs off her keyboard. “And Dane’s going to want some time off around the holidays, too. It’s like we need another set of hands.”
“Maybe you should take over some of the classes,” Brenna said to Grant.
This time, three sets of eyes turned to glare at her.
Brenna hid her smile behind a look of mock-innocence. “What’d I say?”
Grant shook his head, dismissing her comment. “I’m needed in the office to organize things since my assistant is so very lacking.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
He ignored her and turned back to the two guys. “Do you think Pop can handle an extra workload?”
Dane shrugged. “Why don’t we hire another trainer? I’m getting kind of tired of having back-to-back classes. Throw in the paintball and it doesn’t sound like we’re ever going to get a day off.”
“Where are we going to find another survival expert?”
“I’ll do it,” Brenna volunteered. When they turned to look at her again, she shrugged. “I’m the assistant. Let me assist.”
“We need someone with certifications,” Grant said, warming up to the subject. He stalked over to Brenna’s desk. “Write this down, Brenna. We need someone physically fit, preferably in top condition. Someone who’s personable and good with all kinds of people, from kids to businessmen. Someone with a lot of background in survival training. We’d need a list of what classes they’ve taken and what teaching skills they have. And we’ll pay for relocation.”
She nodded, and then took another sip of her coffee, watching Grant.
“You could probably put an ad in one of the Outdoor magazines. I—” He stopped and turned back to her. “Are you writing this down?”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Oh, did you say to write this down? I must not have heard that.”
“Write it down,” he said between clenched teeth.
She took out a green notepad from under a pile of papers and wrote notes. “Young. Hot. Certifiable. Outdoorsy.”
“Maybe we should look for a new assistant, too,” he said in an unpleasant voice.
“Time for a vote,” Brenna said, ignoring Grant’s tone. “All those in favor of hiring someone new for classes, raise your hand.”
All three men’s hands went up.
“All those in favor of firing Brenna?”
Only Grant’s hand went up.
She stuck her lower lip out at him, mock pouting. “Sorry, Grant. You lose.”
“I’m the one who writes the checks here,” he said in an annoyed tone, moving back to his desk.
She shrugged and glanced back at Dane and Colt. They were her yardstick that she went by. If they were frowning, she’d gone too far. If they were laughing and smirking, she was just giving him crap like one of the boys, and it was tolerable. And both were still grinning with amusement.
Good enough for her. She wiped the crumbs off her desk and then moved to go grab one of the few remaining donuts. “I’ll go wake up Pop and tell him that breakfast is here.” As she walked to the door, she added, “He’s going to be so upset, though, once he finds out that Grant drank his coffee.”
As she shut the door behind her, she heard Grant protest. “How was I supposed to know it was his drink? She only bought four damn coffees!”
Brenna grinned to herself. Whistling, she skipped over to Pop’s cabin.
#
Later that afternoon, she found herself working alone in the main cabin with Grant. This was normally enough to make Brenna want to run screaming for the hills. Or better yet, to find a task—any task—that would get her out of the building and away from his nitpicking. You’re doing this all wrong, Brenna, he would say. You need to catalog the receipts in date order, and then alphabetically. You can’t just throw them all into a big pile.
She made a face just thinking about that. Nothing she ever did pleased him and his anal-retentive ways.
“Do you have the flight info?” he asked her for the third time that day.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Brenna glanced over at him and kept her voice neatly controlled. “For the third time, yes. I printed them out and put the arrival and gate information on your desk.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want me to print it out again?” She gave him an innocent look. “You know, just in case one copy isn’t enough?”
Behind his designer glasses, Grant gave her a sharp, narrow-eyed look. “One is fine. Thank you.”
She nodded and went back to emailing one of her friends. Email was really her best friend when she was at work. It made it look like she was busy and if she was busy, then Grant would leave her alone. Theoretically.
He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Brenna.”
She froze. That did not sound like Grant. Glancing over, Brenna kept the frown off her face and managed to look only mildly concerned. “Sorry?”
Grant took off his glasses and ran a hand down his face. “I know I keep asking you for the same information over and over again. I’m just a little . . . out of sorts with family coming in to town.”
“Oh,” she said, and then added, “no sweat.”
Okay, he was officially weirding her out. Grant never apologized to her. Like, ever. She typed a moment longer, then fired off the email.
“You put in the ad for the new instructor?”
She nodded and lifted a piece of paper without looking over at him. “Do you want to review it again?”
“Huh? Oh. No, that’s okay.” He lifted the picture on the corner of his desk and then sighed heavily. “Are you going to get dressed at any point today?”
This was more like Grant. She felt a little better. Brenna glanced down at her T-shirt and SpongeBob boxers. “I’m pretty sure all my body parts are covered. Did we get a dress code that I didn’t know about?”
“No. It’s just that my family’s coming in.”
“Should I hide under my desk so I don’t appall them with my hideousness?”
“Very funny. No, just straighten up while I’m gone, please.” He grabbed a stack of envelopes and began to arrange them into a neat pile. “Make sure the magazines are all lined up and if you could dust, that would be terrific.”
“Oh wow.” Brenna mockingly touched her shirt. “I didn’t realize I dressed up as the maid today.”
“Very funny. You’re an assistant. You occasionally will have to do some sort of work. Today it just means cleaning up.” He ran a finger along the fireplace mantel. “And dusting.”
She saluted him. “Whatever you say, boss.”
He gave her an exasperated look as he headed back to his desk. Grant picked up his keys and paused, glancing around the main lodge. “You think they’ll be proud of what we’ve accomplished here?”
“Why are you asking me?”
A wry expression twisted Grant’s mouth. “Good point. Like I said, it’s just nerves.”
She stared at him. He’d almost just smiled at her. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” He ran a hand down his face again and tugged at his collar once more. He was clearly nervous. “Just a bit distracted.”
“You’ll be fine once you see them,” Brenna said, and then almost bit her tongue. Why was she trying to soothe him? “Shouldn’t you be going soon?”
He nodded and turned to the door, then turned back to her again. “I don’t suppose you can get rid of the purple in your bangs?”
Her purple Bettie Page bangs? She loved them. Brenna glared and pointed at the door. “Go.”
Grant nodded. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. They look nice.”
As she sat there at her desk, mouth hanging open, Grant turned and headed outside just as Dane bounded through the door, coming inside. The big athlete shook rain from his hair, grinning cheerfully. “Looks like it’s going to be a downpour soon.”
Brenna ran to him, dragging him away from the front door and to the back of the main office. “What’s up with Grant?”
Dane looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“He’s being weird,” she hissed. “He apologized to me earlier. Twice. And he seemed nervous. And when he was leaving, he complimented me on my hair.”
“Huh.” Dane looked just as surprised as she was for a moment there. “Your hair’s cute, Bren. In a Suicide Girls sort of way, that is. Kinda not Grant’s thing, though.”
Well, that stung, and she didn’t even know why it bothered her. “I could care less if I’m Grant’s kind of thing,” she said, irritated. “What’s eating him?”
Dane shrugged, then moved to the swag counter, pulling one of the complimentary shirts off a stack and switching it out with his damp one. “Oh, that. He’s probably just has his feathers ruffled because of his parents visiting. He hasn’t seen them in two years.”
“Aren’t they rich? What’s the matter with them? They don’t like flying or something?”
“Yeah, but it’s more like Grant avoids them. They always ask him about the wife.”
“The wife?” Brenna thought for a moment. “You mean, his dead wife?”
“Yeah.” Dane ripped the tags off the new shirt and tugged it down over his muscular chest. “His dad’s convinced he’s wasting away from missing her, and his mom’s convinced that all he needs is someone new in his life to make him forget her. When Mama Markham shows up to visit, she constantly throws women in his direction, trying to set him up. It drives Grant crazy.”
Brenna thought for a moment. She’d been working with the Expeditions group ever since they opened, and though it had only been a few months, she couldn’t think of a single, solitary time that Grant had gone out on a date. For that matter, he never seemed to get many personal calls, either. It was all work for him.
For some reason, that made her sad, and she felt a twinge of pity. “How long ago did his wife die?”
“Five years ago.”
“Five years!” That was a really long mourning period. He must have been positively flattened by her death. Poor guy.
“Yeah.” Dane’s face was grim. “I wasn’t here at the time but I knew Heather. She and Grant were high school sweethearts. From what I heard, it was pretty bad and Grant was devastated as hell. He’s probably not ready to move on, but his mom won’t let up. She thinks he’ll never jump back into the waters unless she gives him a little push.”