Page 89 of Beastly Mountain Man

“And I have a call in seven minutes.”

“There you are.”

“I missed you too.”

My chest tightened—not painfully, just enough to make me aware of it.

“Did they really ask when I was coming back?”

“Yes.”

“Because they need something?”

“Because you’re their producer, Caprice.”

I closed my eyes for one second.

I was their producer, not their entire production or the person who had to hold every loose thread.

Glenn cleared his throat.

“Get back safely. Call me when the resort clears your road, and we’ll work out your arrival.”

“I will.”

“And Caprice?”

“Yes?”

“Four days off means four days off. Do not celebrate this conversation by opening your laptop.”

I laughed.

“I wasn’t going to.”

He went silent.

“That may be the most alarming thing you’ve said all week.”

“Goodbye, Glenn.”

“See you soon.”

The call ended.

I stood beside the windows with the phone still in my hand.

The production had done more than survive. People I trusted had done their jobs and solved problems without asking me to carry them first, and they still wanted me back.

Both things were true.

That should have made the answer simple.

Instead, I looked across the great room at the couch where Lucky and I had sat the night before, the kitchen where our cake plates still waited on the counter, and Bear’s rope lying near the hearth.

Three days ago, I had arrived planning to make this place useful.

Now the idea of leaving it hurt.