My feet slap against the floor as I pace my cabin.

“What was that?” I direct my question to Spike.

If she could, she’d lift her spiny eyebrow at me.

“It’s not like I instigated it,” I huff, crossing back into the bedroom.

And it’s not like I put a stop to it.

I groan and drape myself over the edge of the bunk.

“What am I doing?” My voice is muffled by my sweet, squishy mattress.

A knock at the door cuts off my inner chastisement.

I jerk upright and turn to face the front of the cabin.

Is Sterling at my door?

Should I answer?

I start walking across the floor before I can lie to myself.

Of course I’m going to answer.

“Court, you in there?” Cook’s voice filters through the door.

The tension drops out of my shoulders as I heave out a breath.

No need to stress over will I or won’t I fuck my boss, I guess.

I open the door. “Hey. What’s up?”

“You wanna come make some pies or something before the fire?” Cook takes a step back, like I’m going to immediately follow him.

“What fire?”

“The one we have after the first guests of the season leave.” He waves an arm for me to get moving.

I put my hands on my hips. “Those were hardly the first of the season.”

“Okay, fine. We do it pretty much every time a group of guests leave.”

I drop my arms. “If it’s tradition…”

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