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If only Jack could see me roll my eyes. “They don’t have to know how to ski. They just need to be amiable and have at least half a brain. The rest wouldn’t hurt.”
He tsk’d over the phone. “So not the psycho ski bunny from earlier, then?”
She popped up in my mind for what was easily the twentieth time today. She wasn’t tall, wasn’t blonde. From the little bit of hair that had escaped from beneath her helmet, she had curly chestnut hair. Curvy but fairly slim. Had she not had such a nasty mouth on her, I probably would have given her the time of day, even with the blood trickling from her nose onto the snow.
But she just had to go and call me a brute after slamming into me at full speed.
“Absolutely not Blunder Bunny.”
————
The early afternoon sun glinted off the snowy hills and peaks outside my resort office’s window. “Have all of them shown up?”
“We’re only missing one. They called about an hour ago saying they got an offer elsewhere,” Holly said, her nose buried in a small stack of paper as she flipped through it. “Why do people make their resumes more than one page long nowadays? It’s incredibly annoying.”
“Because they’re desperate to sell themselves.” I chuckled and leaned back in my seat, extending one hand out toward her, palm up. Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose as her blue eyes locked with mine. “Pass me whichever one you like the most.”
“There are only two decent ones,” she sighed. Fighting with the papers in her grasp, she slid one out from the stack, inspecting it briefly before placing it into my waiting hand. “Douglas Conway. He has an exceptional amount of experience. He’s a former ski champ like yourself and knows the area and this resort well.”
“He sounds perfect?—”
“He also has a lengthy criminal history with multiple charges for smuggling cocaine across the Mexican border.”
Fucking great. “Let me guess. He didn’t say that on his cover letter, did he?”
“Of course not,” she snorted, flipping through the papers again. “We did background checks on everyone. So if you’d prefer someone who doesn’t have ties to the cartel, this…” she slid another resume into my hand, “is the only other good one. Raylene Harleson.”
I skimmed the first few lines of her resume as Holly spoke behind me.
“She also has an exceptional amount of experience. Fairly local. Doesn’t have a history with skiing, but of course that wasn’t a prerequisite.”
“Any history of cocaine smuggling?” I joked, my eyes catching on one of her previous employers. James Holman ran that business. Asshole.
“None.”
“Bring her in, then.” I passed back the resumes to Holly, my gaze lingering a little too long on Raylene’s CV. “She can go first.”
She nodded, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, and turned to walk toward the door. “Try not to look like you take up the entire room,” she added, flashing me a sarcastic grin.
The moments between Holly leaving to retrieve the candidate and coming back felt like an eternity. I’d made a point not to bring my phone into my office this morning—I knew myself better than that. Distractions were inevitable and I needed to be on my A-game. Whoever I hired needed to be someone I’d get along with, someone I’d be able to tolerate being around me the majority of the time. And that meant I needed to be observant, present, and most importantly, likable.
Not that that was difficult with women.
Two pairs of heels clacking against the ground was my only cue that Holly was returning with the candidate in question.
The door opened. One dull pair of khaki slacks and a white button-up, black pin-straight hair, and glasses. Holly. One tight, black skirt that hugged every curve, a white blouse hanging loose around her breasts and tucked in, and a head of neatly set brown curls and eyes that shone like golden honey.
Blunder Bunny.
Fucking hell.
My nostrils flared as she locked gazes with me. Her skin paled in return.
Pushing my chair back, I stood, making my way around the desk. “Raylene Harleson, I presume?” I asked, plastering an award-winning smile on my face as I held my hand outstretched for her. “I’m Wade Colchester.”
She blinked up at me, her stature so slight in comparison to my height. Her lower lip, plump and stained dark red, caught itself between her teeth before she spoke. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Colchester.”
The whites of her eyes were visible from every angle. She couldn’t stop staring—exactly like she was the other day when she claimed she wasn’t—and I could tell the realization was far more startling for her than it was for me. For me, this was simply a unique turn of events, a hilarious coincidence, but for her, it was more serious. She needed a job.
