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The image of Courtney pinned below me flashes in my mind.

I’ve been exerting myself in all sorts of ways recently.

When I look back to the tables, I see Courtney scooping out more slices of cake for guys who want seconds.

Considerate of her.

I wait until she sets down the spatula, then I stride over to the table.

Courtney didn’t take a second piece for herself, so I scoop one up for her, then set it and the serving utensil on her plate.

“I have a call this afternoon,” I say loudly enough to catch everyone’s attention. “I’m talking to that tech company about booking a trip for their whole team this spring. So I’ll be unavailable for a bit.”

“This that software company you were talking about last month?” Simpson asks.

“Uh-huh.” I nod. “I’m quoting them an extra fifteen percent since we’d be filling literally every bed with nerds, so we’ll see.”

There’s a round of groans as the guys remember some of the past guests we’ve had who were simply not suited for the outdoors. But we don’t discriminate.

We just charge more.

I lift the cake pan. “Everyone who wanted a second piece got one?” I ask the crowd.

There’s a rumble of affirmative noises.

“Good.” I nod.

Then with a third of the pan still full, I carry it out the door.

Chapter 153

Courtney

Walking back to my cabin,I look up the driveway at Sterling’s house.

I haven’t seen him since he left lunch, carrying the whole cake pan.

Some of the guys called after him as he did it, laughing over his apparent sweet tooth.

I buried my smile under the second piece he’d given me, sure he was hoarding it because it was his birthday cake.

I consider texting him, wanting to know if he’ll be around tonight, if he’ll come over. But that feels awkward.

I literally live in the cabin next to his. If he wants to see me, or be seen, he knows how to make that happen.

Sighing to myself, I carry on past the driveway.

The proximity makes hookups easy, but it also makes it hard to set expectations. If this was a normal situation with a guy I was…seeing, I wouldn’t expect to bump into him every thirty minutes.

I need to chill.

Of course, just as I tell myself that, as I near my cabin, I start to slow.

Then I stop.

Because attached to my cabin, lining the steps that lead up to my front door, are railings.

Hand railings that match all the other cabins.