Sierra huffed out a breath, but she was smiling. The woman loved a margarita.

“Cocktails sound great.” It had been way too long since we’d caught up. “After the masquerade.” I pulled a face. “And after I deal with any new consultants Langston Hotels sends up to do more preliminary assessments on the resort.”

Sierra bit her lip. “Any word on his plans for the hotel?”

“Nothing to report yet.”

“What about layoffs?” Allie asked, her mouth tight.

I grabbed her arm. “I will do everything in my power to ensure no one loses their jobs. Everyone is vital to the smooth running of this hotel.” I knew people were worried about their jobs. I understood. I had a solid contract for another three years, but I still worried about helping Emily with her mortgage and helping to pay Josh’s college tuition.

Allie nodded stiffly, but I could see she was nervous.

“For now, we focus on the masquerade. And upcoming cocktails.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Jenkins to watch Ollie,” Allie said.

I knew her older neighbor often babysat for her. “I need to run and email reports to Tyrant Langston before he chases me for them again.” I bet Langston and Simba would get on. I squeezed Allie’s arm. “Cocktails. Soon. The man will no doubt drive me to drink.”

Hustling down the hall, I opened my office. My right-hand woman sat at her very messy desk. Mine—as neat as a pin—was on the other side of the room. The window gave us a view of the mountain. Okay, not quite. We got a sliver of mountain, and a whole lot of the hotel building.

Views were reserved for the guestrooms.

“Morning, Jazmin.” I dumped my bag on the desk.

My assistant’s dark gaze narrowed on my coffee. “You went to Mountain Brew and didn’t get me a coffee?”

“I didn’t think you’d be here. I figured your hunky husband would be making you breakfast and coffee.”

Jazz had married the love of her life. Hector owned the ski rental store in town, and a few others around Colorado and Utah.

“He had to go to Aspen for work.” A small smile flirted on her lips and she fluffed her glorious, tight, black curls. “He’ll be home tonight.”

I sat in my desk chair. “Don’t make me throw my coffee at you. Quit taunting me with your loved-up gooeyness.”

Jazz tilted her head. With her dark skin, curly hair, and curvy body, she took great pride in both her African-American and Latina heritage. Her dad was Black and her mom was Dominican. “You could meet a guy.”

I swiveled my chair, and it squeaked. “I hear an if coming.”