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ALEX

“Y ou have to be quieter, Sandra.” At the best of times, Sandra could be pretty shrill.

And this was not the best of times.

Alex still had her sunglasses on, and she had forced herself to eat the toast and ham from the hotel breakfast before leaving Orson in the gift shop so she could get the truck ready for the last part of their trip.

“Are you hung over?” Sandra demanded, no less quietly.

“Maybe a little,” Alex admitted.

“Did you get drunk?” Sandra asked in astonishment. “Alex, you don’t get drunk. You’re the prude keeping everyone else from getting stupid.”

She wasn’t wrong, even if she was annoying. Alex never trusted anyone else to keep the party from ending in regrets, so she always drank just enough and never more, confident that she could hold her liquor better than anyone else, anyway.

And Orson Davison had effortlessly drunk her under the table.

She remembered most of the night, laughing and talking. She remembered wondering if she should drink more when their glasses were refilled the third or fourth time, and deciding…she could . She was safe with Orson, and he wouldn’t let anything regrettable happen. She didn’t have to be the person on point, for once in her life. She was allowed to relax, and Orson would protect her.

In all of her years working for a security company, Alex had never considered that she needed or wanted anyone to defend her. She was the one who provided defense, not the one who required it. But it had been so lovely, not needing to watch her own back for a while, able to unwind and have a good time for once.

What was this man doing to her?

“So…?”

Alex had almost forgotten she was still on the phone with Sandra.

“So, what?” she asked crossly.

“Two rooms?”

“Two rooms.”

“Just one bed?”

“ Two rooms .”

“What happened in Tok?”

Alex flushed hot. “He slept in the truck.” For the first half of the night. Then he turned into a bear, I saw him shirtless, and we had wild, hot sex on the only-one-bed. She couldn’t tell Sandra that part. It shocked her to realize that she trusted Orson more than she trusted Sandra.

“Look, I think maybe we misjudged him,” Alex told Sandra. “He’s got some intriguing ideas about the business and no interest in micromanaging anything. He’s not an idiot, and he’s humble enough to admit what he doesn’t know. I think we might come out ahead here. It could be a really good partnership.”

Sandra was quiet. “And he thinks that everything is fine the way it is?”

Sandra didn’t agree with Alex about all the choices she’d made along the way. She hadn’t been in favor of hiring convicts or paying for gym time. Was she secretly hoping that Orson would overturn some of Alex’s decisions? Had she been trying to get Alex to act the idiot purposefully, thinking that Orson would want to get rid of her?

Alex shook her head to dispel the idea. Sandra was her friend . She had no reason to suspect her of sabotage. That was just the hangover making her brain misfire in odd directions.

“He respects my authority,” Alex said, sure of that at least. His mate . Whatever that meant in the business world. “He wants to keep me on, and he wants Snafu—Grizzly Protection Services—to succeed.” He wants to marry me. Her head throbbed.

“A lot of guys say that,” Sandra warned. “But they only actually want the one thing…”

Orson had gotten that one thing, and he could have had more of that one thing, but he’d been a complete gentleman last night when she was out of her senses. How was it possible that she was thinking that this was the guy she might marry? “I gotta go, Sandra. We’ll be out of cell phone range for most of the rest of the trip. Take care of the office, and I’ll catch up again when I can.”

“Sure, honey.” Sandra hung up, and Alex went to check the fluids, ensure all the tires on the truck and the spares were fully inflated, and verify that they had the emergency equipment they might need on the Haul Road.

Alex didn’t think she’d mind that much if Sandra had only booked them one room in Coldfoot.