One Christmas Wish (14 page)

“Because you looked right at me,” he continued, locking his gaze on hers.

Oh lordy, those eyes. So gorgeous. His face wasn't bad, either. Straight nose, strong, square jaw stubbled with a few days of growth. And there was an adorable faint line running down the center of his chin. Her heart started a traitorous flutter until she realized he was waiting for an answer, then the flutter turned violent.

“Um.” She studied her hands, worry boiling up. “I saw you. Of course I
saw
you. I was just…a little panicked, that's all.” If she told him the truth, that she couldn't control the panic, that it crashed over her and dragged her into a riptide of confusion, he'd start asking more questions.

“A
little
panicked?” Sawyer shot back.

“Well, can you blame me?” Her heart thumped in her ears. “I mean, I wasn't expecting anyone to be hiding in the pantry—”

“Hiding?” Sawyer laughed. “Why would I be hiding in the pantry? Bryce asked me to fix the shelves while he was gone.”

She shot to her feet. “At five o'clock in the morning?”

He was slower to get up but at least he wasn't grimacing anymore. “I'm on shift at eight.”

Panic started to pump through her again, but this time it had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way he looked at her, the way his gaze drifted down her body. She crossed her arms so he couldn't guess her cup size. “How'd you get in here, anyway?”

Sawyer casually leaned against the kitchen counter, still looking her over like he appreciated what he saw. “I have a key. I'm staying here.”

The room whirled. Not what she'd hoped to hear. That was bad. Very, very bad. It had been hard enough to avoid him before, but if he stayed there, it'd be impossible! “I thought you were moving to Denver,” she said, going for a casual, conversational tone. Damn the squeak of panic.

He shrugged. “The house sold faster than I thought. I still have a month left at work.”

Fabulous.
That was just her luck. The last thing she needed was a cop poking around the Walker Mountain Ranch.

“So what's with the panic attack?” he asked again, sounding more like a cop this time.

She busied herself with unpacking the rest of the kitchen utensils from her bag. “Whadda you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I know what a panic attack looks like, Ruby.”

“It wasn't a panic attack,” she insisted, then focused on lining up her measuring cups so he couldn't read the flush on her face. “I was surprised. That's all. No big deal.” She peeked over at him.

His eyes were narrowed into skepticism. “Do you hyperventilate every time you're surprised?”

No. But she was about to hyperventilate right now. “Why do I feel like you're interrogating me?” she demanded in case he could see how weak she felt. Now that the adrenaline had drained away, her legs and arms felt unstable. The memories were closer, breathing down her neck. If she would've hit Derek with a rolling pin, he would've broken her jaw…

“Ruby? Is everything okay?” Sawyer asked quietly.

Crumpling the market bag in her shaky hands, she turned and smiled. “Everything's great.” She'd learned how to lie, how to cover up the truth with a smile. “I'm so sorry about your…” The blush made a strong comeback. “Um…do you want ice or anything?”

A smirk made him look less guarded. “Do I want to walk around with an icepack on my crotch? No thanks. I'll live.”

“Okay.” She sashayed past him like nothing had happened, like her stomach hadn't tightened into a painful knot. “I should get to work, then.”

“You're sure everything's okay?” Sawyer called behind her.

“Of course.” She unstacked the stainless mixing bowls from the shelf above the sink.

“All right, then. Guess I'll get back to work, too,” he said slowly. The pantry door opened then clicked shut.

But something told her that wasn't the end of the conversation.

S
mile. Always smile. A smile communicates something positive in any language.

Paige recited the adage the perky instructor had indoctrinated into her during the daylong customer service torture—training—her boss had strongly encouraged her to attend.

Everyone is beautiful when they smile. Smiling can diffuse even the tensest situation
and soften even the worst temper.

Except she'd tried smiling all morning and it had gotten her nowhere.

Paige ground her trusty hiking boots to a stop on the side of the trail and glanced back to evaluate her latest group of “customers,” which consisted of an overweight insurance salesman from Oklahoma, along with his painfully polite and heavily made-up wife and three teenaged boys who had zero ability to look any farther north than Paige's chest. Yes, she happened to be well-endowed (thanks for that, Gramma Lou), but she was also wearing a sports bra that happened to be the equivalent of one of those 1800s girdles, so what was that about?

Clomp, clomp, clomp
. The group plodded up the trail a good quarter mile behind her, their cowboy boots scraping the packed dirt, metallic belt buckles glistening in the early morning sun. Not exactly ideal attire for scaling the side of a mountain to have a picnic at a lake.

Stifling the groan that thundered somewhere far beneath her ribcage, she studied the western horizon. The granite spikes of Castle Peak loomed high above, glaciers glinting with sunlit sparkles. Against the mind-blowing blue sky, those cliffs presided over the entire valley, presided over her. Lower, the cragged slopes gave way to the forested valley, which was crowded with towering green pine and plumes of aspen groves. Where the sunlight cut through the pine needles and leaves, bright green grass sprouted like tufts of a baby's hair, new and shiny and soft. Wildflowers of all colors carpeted the valley floor—the red Indian paintbrush, the purple asters, the yellow alpine buttercups and, her favorite, the blue columbines. Paige inhaled the calming scent of the mountain air—that perfect blend of honeysuckle and evergreen and sun-ripened dirt. The vast wilderness that stretched out on all sides of her had become her refuge. It was both terrifying and beautiful, dangerous and yet the only place she felt safe enough to be true to herself.

Only, she wasn't by herself. Her gaze settled back on the spectacle behind her. She'd lucked out by being the only Walker Mountain Ranch guide available to lead the
Howdy Doody
cast up a mountain.

Be nice, Paige.
She was trying. God, was she trying. She'd even carried Hal's pack for most of the trip, but…

A quick glance at her Timex sent her pulse into overdrive. Their opportunity to make it to the lake in clear weather ticked away with each second they dragged their boots on that packed trail.

“Hot diggity!” Hal called behind her. “Looks like it's time for a break,” he wheezed.

She turned.
Smile, damn it. Smile.
“Um, Hal…we've had quite a few breaks. Don't you think?” Her boots scuffed closer to his. “Why don't you take a sip of water and we'll keep going? Every time we stop we're allowing the lactic acid in our muscles to—”

“Gals like you are a hell of a lot prettier when they're quiet.” The man laughed. He actually laughed like he thought belittling women was some kind of joke.

His wife, Brenda, fashioned her freshly slathered red lips into an apologetic smile, a silent
I know, I know. He's hopeless.

Disgust rippled Paige's lips into what her mother called a sour expression.
Those faces will give you wrinkles, Paige.
Who cared about wrinkles? This man was about to give her an aneurysm. Not only was he insulting her, they'd also been on the trail for about two hours and had maybe gone one mile. Seeing as how the entire trail up to the lake was only three and a half miles, it should've been a cakewalk, but Hal might as well have been scaling Mount Everest. About every tenth of a mile, he'd stop and double over and guzzle about a quart of water and Paige would have to wander away a couple steps before she blurted out the question that hammered her brain. Why had he booked a hiking trip when he could've taken the damn shuttle to the lake?

Miss Customer Service Trainer would definitely not approve.

It is never, ever, under any circumstances okay to curse in front of a customer.

Who the hell was that lady kidding? They were in the wilderness, for Mona Lisa's sake! There were no “customers” out here. Only survivors. There was a reason she barked out orders and pushed her clients to the edges of their physical limits. Not because she enjoyed being a drill sergeant. When she met these people, when she shook their hands and looked at the eager faces, into their bright, expectant eyes, she made them a silent promise.
I will keep you safe.
She added their wellbeing to the weight stuffed in her pack. Things out here could change in the shift of the wind, in the slip of a boot. She knew that better than anyone.

So, while she had agreed to cut back on the whole swearing thing, she had a job to do. Like it or not, she had to lead the Funkleman family to their destination, whatever it took.

And she had to do it soon.

Paige shifted a wary gaze back to the horizon where a hearty thunderhead, swollen and black, encroached on Castle Peak, merely a few miles away. They had maybe another two hours before the clouds built and unleashed hell right on top of them. Thunderstorms above tree line brewed horror stories. No protection. Nowhere to hide. Just you and the millions of volts of electricity zinging across the sky. One cloud-to-ground current could take out an entire group.

What about that, Miss Customer Service Trainer? What would you say to that?

“Woo hoo!” Hal dumped half of his third water bottle over his head and shook like a drenched dog, jowls swaying and everything.

Oh no he didn't
. She plowed toward him, steam clouds rising from her mouth. “What did I tell you about wasting water, Hal?”

“Can't help it. I'm parched.” He eyed her with a sheepish grin. “You got plenty more in your pack, Miss Paige. Am I right?”

It is inappropriate to argue with a customer. If they say something you don't agree with, find a way to redirect them instead of firing back.

Redirect. Redirect….
She had to redirect before she sucker-punched the man. He was so not worth getting fired over.

“All right, guys!” Pivoting, she shifted back into cheerleader mode. “We need to hustle. Gotta get up there before noon.” Which meant…“No more breaks. We're gonna keep moving.”

Sweat slicked Hal's sideburns against his ruddy skin. He doubled over and peered up at her. “I ain't movin'. I can't. I might bust a lung.”

Every client said that at least once during a climb. She studied the others behind him. Brenda, his lovely wife, gasped like a beached trout. Surprisingly, her teased blond hair still stood about eight inches above her forehead, though her Mary Kay makeup had melted. The three boys, whom she liked to think of as Larry, Curly, and Moe, plodded behind their mother in typical, sullen teenager fashion.

Okay. So.
Cheerleader mode wasn't working. It was time to level with this guy. She had never failed on a mission to get a client up a mountain, and not even Hal Funkleman would stop her from showing this family how it felt to stand up there and look out over the vastness of an endless beauty. It was power. It was fear. It was the reward. That moment made every step, every aching muscle worth it.

Assume the stance.
She posted her hands on her hips exactly like a drill sergeant would and stomped over to Hal. “Stand up. We're going.”

His jaw dropped and exposed four silver fillings.

Pretending not to notice the ice in his stare, she gestured to Brenda and the Three Stooges. “Come on. This way. Step around him and keep hiking.” One by one, his family obeyed, casting apologetic glances at the head of their household. Apparently, they feared her more than him. That was a good thing.

Hal pushed off his knees and stood at full height, his grizzly-bear-like body towering over her. “Are you crazy, lady? I can hardly breathe up here. You're gonna kill me.”

“This will so not kill you.” She smiled. “It's good for you. Just take deep breaths and walk slowly. As long as you keep moving, you'll be fine.” She'd taken three-hundred-pound clients up to the lake, and nearly cried at the look of accomplishment on their faces when they saw the view.

The man faked a hacking cough.

Brenda glanced back with worry furrowed into her forehead, but Paige swept her hand through the air in a silent command for her to turn around.
That's right, Brenda. Keep on movin'. Nothin' to see here
. She'd take care of Hal, no problem. He might be a big guy, but how tough could he be?

Let's find out.
She stepped up until they stood toe-to-toe, like two cowboys about to duel. Except she didn't have the belt buckle or the boots or the stubble on her chin. But that'd never stopped her before. She'd held her own with plenty of Hal Funklemans. If she could handle Shooter, she could handle Hal.

“I'm not goin' nowhere.” He glared down at her, cheeks splotched, lips crusted with spit, eyes crazy with the stress of physical exertion. “No, sir. I don't take orders from people like you.”

“People like me.” Women. He meant he didn't take orders from women.
That's it
. For two hours, she'd babied him, smiled, and encouraged him.
You're doing great, Hal!
Looking good! Keep it up!
She'd given the customer service method her best effort—for Bryce and Avery—and it didn't work. No amount of customer service training could change the fact that she was responsible for what happened out here. Screw being nice. She'd have to resort to what she did best: tough love.

Paige pushed up the sleeves of her thermal. “See those clouds over there?” She pointed above Hal's head. “Those are called thunderheads.”

He assessed the clouds with a shrug. “Yeah. So?”

“Have you ever stood above tree line during a lightning storm, Hal?”

“Sure haven't.” He tugged on his belt as it seemed to have slipped, exposing the fact that his flannel shirt had been tucked into plaid boxer shorts.

She averted her eyes back to his. “Let me tell you something about lightning. One cloud to ground strike at this altitude could fry your body like a piece of bacon.”

At the mention of bacon, Hal's eyes lit.

Okay.
Bad idea distracting the man with pork. She tried again. “I mean, it'll stop your heart instantly, burn your skin to a crisp.”

“Like bacon.” Hal nodded, his eyes gleaming with a frightening hunger. “You know what? I got some jerky in my pack. Seems like a good time to stop for lunch, don't it?”

If you feel yourself losing your temper with a customer, be sure to stop, smile politely, and count silently to ten. Refrain from lashing out.

Was she starting to lose her temper?
Yes.
The answer flashed in the heat of her cheeks like a glowing neon sign. Inhaling a cleansing breath, she tried it out.
One, two, three…oh screw it.
They were engaged in some kind of weird chauvinistic power struggle, and he couldn't win. Not out here. “What I'm trying to say is, we don't have time for jerky, Hal. We're not stopping.”

His chin tipped upward in defiant child fashion. “That's not your call.” He shimmied out of his backpack straps and let the thing fall to the ground with a thud. “I believe we're the ones payin' for this here hike.”

“And I believe I'm here to make sure everyone gets to the lake alive.” Her jaw ground out the words. “That means we have to bag this thing by ten. Get off the trail by noon. Before we get struck by lightning. Got it?”

Hal's eyes searched the sky above her head. “Don't look too bad to me.” As if proving he wasn't the least bit concerned, he plopped down. Well, as much as a heavy-set man can plop. It was more like a grimacing collapse that ended in a wince. “A little rain never hurt nobody.” He pawed through his pack. When he pulled out the bag of jerky Paige could've sworn she saw tears of joy in his eyes.

Wow.
This guy was unbelievable.

If a disagreement arises, gently sway the customer using positive tactics. Listen first, then reiterate your point of view.

Yeah. Right.
Maybe that worked with reasonable people. She had half a mind to swipe that bag of jerky out of his greedy hand and tie it to a stick so she could lure him up the mountain like a carrot leading a donkey. “I'm not talking about a little rain, Hal,” she spat. “I'm talking about an electrical storm.” Memories shivered through her. “Trust me. I've been there. Lightning so close you can hear it zing in the air. The hair on your head and arms standing straight up—”

“And you didn't get struck down, didya?” Obvious disappointment tugged at the corners of his mouth.

If all else fails and you feel you can no longer serve the customer, remove yourself from the situation for a moment. Gain some perspective and go back to the customer when you're ready.

Paige grinned. Now that she could do. At least the training day hadn't been a total waste. “You know what, Hal? Forget it.” She spun away. “You go ahead and take a long lunch break. We'll see you in a few hours.”

“You can't leave me by myself! What if I see a bear? A mountain lion?”

She glanced over her shoulder.
Smile politely.
“If I were you, I'd make sure my hands didn't smell like jerky.”

And with that, she blazed up the trail to join the others.