Mountain Boss: Mountain Men Series Book One
Mountain Boss: Chapter 60

The Food Hall is noisy as all the guests get in line to grab lunch.

Cook made caramelized-onion grilled cheese sandwiches and a thick tomato soup. I got to taste some earlier, and it’s damn near magical. And perfect since the weather is decidedly starting to turn cold.

I’m trying to hold out a little longer, but I’m going to have to turn the heat on in my cabin soon.

“Come on, darlin’, get in line.” One of the guests stops beside me, holding his arm out.

“Oh, I’ll wait for you all⁠—”

“No can do. Ladies first,” the older man insists, and since my stomach is growling, I cave and move into the line.

The first evening, when the guests arrived and everyone was still at the Lodge, we employees sat at our own picnic table. But now that everyone is back and the guests have bonded with their guides, it looks like seating is a free-for-all.

As I shuffle closer to the food, I hear the door open, and I can’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder.

Sterling.

His hair is damp. His flannel is only half buttoned. And he looks so good, and so much like he did the first time I saw him.

He moves into line behind us, and before I do something stupid, like drool, I look away.

The man next to me starts talking about the fish he caught, and the man in front of us chimes in, claiming he’s exaggerating. So the first man pulls out his phone, insisting I look at the photos.

“It’s a big fish.” I nod.

“See?” he calls back to his friend.

I don’t know fuck all about fish. Mine come breaded and frozen. But sure, it looks big.

The line moves forward, and I take a plate from Cook, sandwich already cut in two and spread around the base of a bowl of soup. A pack of crackers is on the corner of the plate, and I smile at Cook when he winks and drops two more packets on my plate.

No one else is paying attention, so I don’t have to feel embarrassed.

I don’t know how Cook put together that I need a little help in the food department, but whenever there’s something nonperishable, like crackers, on the menu, he always gives me extra.

Maybe he’s noticed that I don’t put anything in the fridges, and maybe he knows I don’t have a fridge of my own, but no matter his reasoning, I appreciate it.

With my water bottle hooked around my finger, I pick up my plate and search for an open seat.

One table is full, two more are mostly full, and since I don’t feel like wedging between people, I move to one of the empty tables and sit at the end of the bench, with my back facing the wall.

The man who caught the big fish sets his plate across from mine, dropping onto the bench with a groan.

“I’m gonna sleep like the fucking dead tonight.” He shakes his head as he opens his crackers. “No idea how you guys do that rough sleeping all year round.”

I purse my lips, wondering if he’s forgotten my role and thinks I’m a guide too, when a plate gets set down next to mine.

Flannel flashes in my periphery, and that’s all I need to see to know who it is.