Page 15 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

“I do want it noted that they were in the correct month.”

“They were under a takeout menu.”

Georgia lowered her head, shoulders moving with quiet laughter.

I leaned back in my chair. “Was there an actual business reason for this call?”

“There are several. I need Georgia’s tax paperwork, I need the final access level you approved for her, and I need confirmation that she understands active client files are outside the cleanup pile unless one of us assigns something directly.”

Georgia’s amusement faded into professional attention. “I understand. I haven’t opened any active client material. I’m separating general field expenses, vendor bills, supplies, mileage, and archived paperwork so you can see what’s actually missing before I touch anything else.”

“That is exactly what I needed to hear.”

Annette’s voice had the dry, practical edge I knew well. She didn’t praise people often, and when she did, the compliment usually came disguised as relief that somebody had finally behaved sensibly.

“I hired her at the rate we discussed,” I said. “She elected the percentage going toward the Dean balance, and the interest is frozen while she works here. The loft is separate from all of it.”

There was a brief pause.

“Good,” Annette said. “Then send me the written terms for the file. Georgia, I’ll email your paperwork and the current field-office vendor list. If something doesn’t make sense, ask me before assuming Rex knows where it belongs.”

Georgia looked at me, openly amused, and made a note.

“I know where things belong.”

“You know where fugitives belong,” Annette said. “Paperwork is a different skill set.”

Georgia failed to hide her laugh this time.

Annette continued without indulging either of us. “One more thing. I need yesterday’s mileage entered by noon. After that I’ll leave you two alone to resurrect the Whispering Pines office.”

“We’re not resurrecting it,” I said.

“You’re right. Georgia is.”

The call ended five minutes later with access permissions settled, paperwork on its way, and Georgia already making notes about what Annette needed first.

She set down her pen. “I like her. She likes you too.”

“Most people with survival instincts do, and I pay her.”

Georgia’s expression softened. “That isn’t why.”

Before I could decide whether I wanted to know what she meant, her phone buzzed against the desk.

She looked at the screen.

“Case.”

“Your couch provider.”

“My best friend,” she corrected, though there was no edge in it. “Who does, in fact, own a couch.”

She answered and switched the call to speaker while she finished writing a note.

“Good morning. You’re on speaker, so keep your emergency appropriate for company.”

Case’s voice came through clear and animated. “First, I’m delighted you assume I have categories. Second, please tell me the mountain man hired you because I need to borrow you.”