Page 68 of Counting Down To You

I’ll ask him. Don’t worry.

If Lucie is sick, there’s nothing either of us can do about it. And she must be gutted—I don’t think she was lying about how much she wanted to come.

Do you need soup or something? I type. I’m wondering if I rank high enough to send one of the restaurant staff over to Lucie’s house with a vat of it.

I think best I don’t eat anything but thank you. I really am sorry. I’ll check in later, okay?

I get dressed, feeling jittery. We have to leave midafternoon, before the sun sets. Which gives me a few hours to try to work something out.

Maybe Elodie will come, though it won’t be as fun as Lucie. Still, the most important thing right now is making sure the guests have a good time, and I can’t do that alone. Lucie’s right—I need to speak to Leo.

A different kind of nerves jump in my stomach. I still haven’t seen him since the other night. When we kissed.

Because he wanted to help you, Ali, I remind myself firmly. So it doesn’t mean anything.

It’ll be fine. It will definitely all be fine. I’ll be casual, breezy even.

But when I knock on his cabin door moments later, I don’t exactly feel breezy. And the cocktail of anxiety only gets stronger when he doesn’t immediately come to the door. Is it too early? Should I have waited until after 9 a.m.? But he’s the manager, and I’m pretty sure this qualifies as a managerial emergency.

The door finally opens. Leo stands there, barefoot, wearing jeans and an unbuttoned shirt. I catch a hint of a thin pale scar on his chest—from a skiing accident, maybe? To be honest, I’m more interested in the chest itself. Jesus, if I thought his arms were impressive…

I have to force myself not to stare, to focus on his face instead. Day-old stubble grazes his jaw, and his hair has that fresh-out-of-bed look.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out. “Did I wake you?”

“No, don’t worry. I was up. Want to come in?” He steps aside, holding the door open.

I’m taken aback by the ease of the invite. “Umm, sure.”

His cabin is laid out like mine. It’s almost as sparse, which surprises me, but then he did say he liked to move around. There is ash in the fireplace, and I swear I can still smell lingering woodsmoke, over that subtle spicy scent I associate with him.

“Coffee?” Leo asks, padding his way toward the kitchen and doing up his shirt as he does. I hope that isn’t because I was staring.

Though, right now, I have bigger things to worry about. “Sure, but, Leo—Lucie can’t come to Refuge with me.” I can hear the panic lacing my words.

Calm down, Ali.

He frowns at me as he gets down a mug from one of the cupboards. “I thought she wanted to?”

“She did. She’s ill. Unless she’s faking it, but I don’t see why she would.”

“She cares too much about her job to fake it.” Well, at least he’s seen that. And I might not have known Lucie for long, but I don’t think she’d let me down like this unless there was a real reason.

“I can host on my own,” I carry on, aware that I’m talking too fast but unable to stop, “it’s only four people. But we’re supposed to ski in altogether.”

He gets the significance of that without me having to explain. “Ah.” He fills a mug from a cafetière that was already made.

“I just—you asked a few days ago if I needed any extra help. And, well, it turns out I do. So if the offer still stands, is there anyone you can spare?” He hands me the mug of coffee. “Lucie suggested Elodie, or—”

“I’ll come,” he states, cutting me off.

I blink at him. “You will?”

“Sure.” He shrugs, full of casual ease. “I was due a day off anyway, and they’ll manage without me here for a night.”

I should maybe question the logic of this—he is the general manager, and it would make more sense if I took someone more junior, given we will be remote and possibly out of service. Instead, I find myself nodding. “Okay. Well, then…good.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, the green in his eyes sparking. “Good.”