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“Technically, I announced that she worked for me before discussing salary, duties or basic employment law.” Big Mike grins at me. "And technically, she still hasn't accepted the position, she's just living for free at my resort."

“Which brings us rather neatly to the second half of this meeting,” Darcy Madden says, placing her croissant down, wiping her fingers and finally turning the tablet toward me.

Oh.

This explains the staring.

Darcy swipes across the screen, revealing photographs from yesterday’s farm experience. Children sitting on the wagon beneath tartan blankets. Families holding cider beside the bonfire. Miles's mother laughing at the welcome hut while Hunter attempts to sell a tree twice his height.

Then she opens the figures.

“Every Stratton experience for the next two weeks is sold out,” Darcy says. “We have requests for private corporate events, three wedding inquiries and enough interest in next Christmas to justify expanding the partnership.”

Big Mike points at me, his focus switching from his hockey franchise to the resort. “You turned a neglected farm into one of the resort’s most profitable guest experiences in forty-eight hours, Ms. Fields.”

“The farm was never neglected,” I say automatically. “It only needed the right presentation and access to the resort’s customer base.”

"And their deep pockets." Big Mike grins. “Exactly why you’re here.”

"Audrey Fields." Darcy smiles and opens another document. “On behalf of my father and Big Mike, Madden Mistletoe Resort would like to offer you a permanent position as Events and Guest Experience Manager. You’ll continue developing the Stratton partnership, oversee future tournament appearances and build new seasonal experiences across the resort.”

For several seconds, I forget how to breathe.

“You’re offering me an actual job?”

“With a contract,” Darcy confirms. “So Big Mike cannot hire you by shouting across a lobby again.”

The salary appears on the screen, and I stare at it, then remember I am a capable woman rather than a runaway bride accepting shelter from a festive billionaire.

“Accommodation?” I ask.

“A staff chalet is included for the first six months.”

“Budget authority?”

“You’ll approve expenditure within each event allocation.”

“And I choose my own support staff?”

Darcy’s smile grows as she glances to Miles. “Within reason. No kinky business, please.”

Big Mike leans toward Miles. “This is your fault.”

Miles looks unbearably proud. “I know.”

I ask for one salary adjustment, permanent authority over the Stratton account and written confirmation that nobody can volunteer me for a shirtless calendar shoot without seven business days’ notice.

Darcy agrees to everything except the seven days, and when we finally stand, Miles signs his acceptance and I shake Darcy’s hand before Big Mike pulls all of us into an enormous hug that smells like way too much expensive cologne.

Then Miles lifts me straight off my feet and spins me full circle.

“We’re staying,” he says against my mouth.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “Apparently.”

“In Chilmore. Together."

He kisses me in front of the owner, the captain and several senior members of the Snow Leopards organization. Miles lowers me but keeps one arm wrapped around my waist.