Page 4 of Wild Return (Wild Heart Mountain: Wild Rider’s MC #15)

VIKING

I t’s just before three when I push open the glass door to the communal office, holding a steaming mug of coffee.

Sydney’s in the meeting with Barrels and the rest of the team for their daily check-in. I know because I hacked her work calendar, so I’d know when she wasn’t at her desk.

I leave the steaming mug on her desk and slip out of the office door.

I’ve set up a security hub in the room next door. It’s taken me a week to install new security cameras and a bank of monitors. I checked back on all the security footage we have, but it’s patchy and there was no trace of our keg thief.

It’s kept me busy, and I’ve given Sydney her space. But now it’s time to win her over.

A glass wall separates our offices, and I take a seat in front of my wall of monitors just as the door to the meeting room opens. I resist the urge to smile to myself at the perfect timing. The coffee will still be warm at her desk.

Davis gave me shit over at the bar when I ordered a double with oat milk and half a shot of vanilla.

When I explained it was for Sydney, he gave me a knowing look and informed me she takes it with a full shot of vanilla now.

He mumbled something about all the women turning the bar into a gourmet coffee place and how he has to keep three different kinds of milk stocked.

I keep my gaze on the monitors, but my whole body is focused on Sydney. She reaches her desk and takes a seat. In my peripheral vision, I see her freeze when she notices the coffee.

I imagine her brow pulled together in a frown as she half gets out of her seat to look around.

“Who put this here?” I hear her say through the glass wall.

It’s only Isla and Charlie in the office, and they both just came out of the meeting.

Sydney’s gaze rests on me, and I keep my expression neutral and my eyes on the screens. I’m glad there’s a glass wall between us, or she’d notice how tense I am.

She huffs and then sits down. I wait for her to drink the coffee, but it stays stubbornly on her desk.

I get up from my post, and without glancing her way, head along the walkway to do my rounds.

When I come back an hour later, Sydney is nowhere to be seen. I walk past her desk, and the coffee is sitting in its mug, untouched. At least she didn’t throw it at me, so that’s a small victory.

The next day I do the same thing. Sydney’s stubborn, but I’m persistent.

This time when I get the coffee from Davis, I also beg a cookie from Maggie. She’s just baked a batch of chocolate chip for the afternoon crowd, and I snag one and put it on a plate for Sydney. She works so hard I never see her eat, and from what I’ve observed, she skips lunch more often than not.

When she comes out of her daily meeting, the coffee and cookie are waiting on her desk. I keep my eyes on the screens, but I feel her gaze sweep over me.

She sits down again, and I get up to do my rounds. When I stroll past the office an hour later, there are lipstick marks on the mug and half the cookie is missing.

I hum to myself as I head to the security room.

My phone buzzes as I sit down, and I answer to a number I don’t recognize.

“Chris. It’s Paulie.”

In the club I’m known as Viking, and it stuck as a nickname in the military. The use of my given name has me sitting up straight.

I worked with Paulie for a few years until he left the military. Last I heard, he was running a security firm, hiring out private contractors for work in the Middle East.

“I’m in need of a reliable man for contract work.” Paulie cuts straight to the point. “It’s a six month contract. Good money. All expenses paid.”

My gaze darts to Sydney. She stares at her computer and twiddles a pen between her fingers. I promised I wouldn’t leave again. And I meant it.

“Sorry, Paulie. I’ve got something going on back on the mountain.”

“The pay’s good.” Paulie continues as if I haven’t just turned him down. “You work a couple of contracts for me, and you’ll have your mortgage paid off.”

Something stirs inside me. That kind of money could give me security. It could set me up for life. I’d never worry again about where money was coming from.

Sydney stirs at her desk, and my gaze locks on her. She keeps her gaze on the computer screen as she lifts up the coffee mug and takes a sip.

A smile creeps across my face.

“Sorry, Paulie. The answer’s still no.”

Paulie chuckles. “I’ll text you what I’m offering, then you tell me if it’s still a no. I’ll leave it open for a week.”

The next day as I’m pushing open the door to the office with Sydney’s coffee balanced in one hand and a chicken sandwich in the other, the door to the meeting room bursts open. They must have finished early.

I place the plate and mug on Sydney’s desk, and when I turn around, she’s right behind me. It’s the closest we’ve been since she showed me around last week, and I suck in a sharp breath as I catch the scent of her perfume, Coco Mademoiselle. I’d pick that scent out anywhere.

Her gaze locks on mine, and she murmurs, “Thanks.”

The spatter of rain on the skylights makes us both look up. When I glance down again, she’s sitting down at her desk with her back to me.

“There’s a storm coming in. I’d better go check for leaks.”

She doesn’t respond, and I make my retreat. But an hour later, the coffee cup is empty.

I come in early on Thursday to help secure tarps over our outdoor silos. They’re predicting gale-force winds by the weekend, and most of the guys are out helping secure the place.

Raiden leads a team up the mountain to check in on the locals and see if anyone needs help to prep for the storm.

I duck away at three to get Sydney’s coffee, but I’m needed with a jam in the loading bay, so I don’t have time to see her drink it.

I’m securing the bolt on the sliding door when my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Paulie.

I’ll add an extra 15%

Two days ago, he sent through an eye-watering number that he’s offering me for six months’ work.

I hover over the text, thinking how one six-month stint could set me and Sydney up for the future.

But there will be no future if I leave her again.

Even if we were at the stage of talking, let alone talking about a future together, one hint that I’m leaving will have her shields going up, and I’ll lose any ground I’ve made.

But how do I know there will ever be anything with Sydney?

I ignore the text from Paulie and instead type a text for Sydney, asking her to meet me to talk. My finger hovers over the send button.

Sydney made it clear that she doesn’t want to talk, and if I force the issue before she’s ready, I risk losing the progress I’ve made this week.

I delete the message without sending it and slide my phone back into my pocket.

Friday arrives with winds so strong my motorbike sways on the mountain roads, and I dig my thighs in to keep her under control. Any sensible guy would take a car, but the bike is all I own.

It’s raining when I leave the clubhouse for the short walk over to the brewery. I hold my leather jacket over the coffee mug, taking it slow so as not to spill any. Rain soaks my skin in minutes, and wind whips at my hair. But I don’t spill a drop.

Sydney is out of her meeting early, and she frowns at me when I hand her the coffee.

“You’re soaked.”

I shrug. “But your coffee’s warm.”

I hand it directly to her, and her gaze meets mine over the mug.

“Thank you.” She takes a sip, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

Her eyes sparkle deep emerald, and there’s a warmth in them that I haven’t seen since I came back. She looks beautiful, and for the first time since I came back, I believe I may have a chance.

“Sydney I…”

The office door slams open, and Barrels charges in. “Will that loading bay door hold in the winds?”

Sydney turns away and sits at her desk. The moment’s gone, and I walk out with Barrels, answering his questions about the coming storm.