Snow Job by Tara Wyatt (best large ereader .txt) 📗

Great. Fucking great.

With a huff, she sat down in the chair, pulled out her phone again and quickly sent out a Microsoft Teams update to everyone to stick to the original schedule and to disregard anything they’d picked up from the front desk. She allowed herself a small smile as she heard everyone’s phones start to go off, a cascade of beeps and buzzes, and the lobby quieted as everyone read the message.

“What is the meaning of this, Kayla?” asked Stammler, moving toward her with one of the damn papers clutched in his meaty hand. “Is this some kind of joke?”

She took the paper from him and forced her face into a professional smile, fighting back the panic and the anger warring for space inside her. “I can assure you, I had nothing to do with this. The original schedule remains unchanged, and I’ve let everyone know that. Everything’s fine.”

“Fine? Just look at this!” He jabbed at the paper in her hand and she looked at it again. Stammler’s was different than the one Davis had received. This one included a time slot for a seminar on pretending you have a big dick when you don’t, the art of ass kissing, and for dinner, the information simply said “EAT ME.”

“I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Stammler. I’ll meet with the resort management to ensure nothing like this happens again.”

“Who’s responsible for this?”

She opened her mouth to blame her number one suspect, Sebastian freaking Prescott, but then promptly snapped it shut. He’d asked her to make sure Sebastian stayed far away from this retreat. If Stammler found out she’d let this happen, he’d probably fire her on the spot.

“I don’t know. Maybe a disgruntled resort employee? But I can assure you, there will be no more problems with this event.”

“There better not be. I’m disappointed in you, Kayla. I expected much better than this juvenile shit. Even if you didn’t do this, this happened on your watch.” He shook his head and walked away, and she sank back into the chair, emotions churning through her. Panic faded into relief, embarrassment, suspicion over who’d done this, and worry that he wasn’t done yet.

Just then, she caught sight of the man she’d bet her left boob was responsible for this on the other side of the lobby, smirking at her. God, why did he have to look so goddamn sexy all the time? It made hating him a little bit harder. Not a lot, but a little bit. It was like trying to hate a puppy. A really sexy puppy. A sexy evil asshole puppy.

Grinding her teeth together, she pushed out of the chair and marched over to him as people started to filter out of the lobby, the crisis solved. Mostly.

“Nice,” she said, holding up the paper in her hand. “Very mature.” When he just grinned at her, she shook her head. “I hope you got it all out of your system.”

He arched an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So I assume you’re going to be teaching the seminar on pretending you have a big dick when you don’t?” Oh God, why was she talking about his dick? Why?

His smile broadened, his eyes going molten. “I’d be the wrong man to teach that seminar.”

Heat flashed through her. “Right. Because you can’t even bother to pretend.” But then her eyes, no longer under her control, flicked down, glancing between his legs.

And sure enough, there was the hint of an outline pressing against the front of his pants. An outline that made her think he wasn’t just bragging.

He bit his lip, drawing her gaze back to his stupidly sexy face. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, honey.” And then he brushed by her, his shoulder glancing against hers and sending a little frisson of heat through her. He smelled good, like the outdoors with a hint of something warm and subtly spicy that she had a feeling was all him. “Good luck, Kayla,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”

7

When Sebastian had been up before dawn in the past, it was usually because he’d never gone to sleep the night before. He used to stay up all night gambling, or fighting, or looking for something—anything—to take him out of his head, his decisions often fueled by too much Grey Goose and too little sleep. These days, when Sebastian was up before dawn, it was to do something peaceful yet rewarding, like snowboarding down the mountain as the sun came up. Or maybe going for a dawn hike through the pines, spotting squirrels and rabbits and birds as he crunched his way through the snow. He hoped that if he kept doing different things, making different choices that eventually, one day, he’d be different. Feel different. He wasn’t there yet, but he’d made some progress. Amazing what not binge drinking and getting proper sleep, food, and regular exercise could do for a man. Go figure.

This morning, though, was different. Yesterday’s little prank with the itinerary had gone well, but he wasn’t done yet. No, he was just getting started. The entire point of yesterday’s scheme had been to sow doubt in Stammler’s mind that Kayla was capable of doing the job he’d assigned to her, even though the more he thought about it, the more surprised he was that someone in Kayla’s position had been tasked with planning the event. He’d certainly never been asked to do anything like that, and if he had, he would’ve kicked it down to a team of underlings to handle.

Okay, so maybe he was the tiniest bit pissed at Stammler on Kayla’s behalf, but only the smallest possible amount. Like a speck of dust amount. Like the same amount she cared about what he did with his life. But he could see that she’d been put in an unfair situation and still be pissed at her. He could still want to take