Autumn waves a hand around the space. “Abbi, everyone. Everyone, Abbi.”

I nervously make the rounds as the others take turns introducing themselves to me. All of them look to be in their midtwenties. In the bunkbed kitty-corner to us are Rachel and Katie—two giggly bottle-blondes from Tampa. Across from us, a brunette named Lorraine from Oregon is lying on the top with a magazine in hand. A stunning redhead from Atlanta named Tillie sits on the bottom. Her hair is a vibrant, deep orangey red instead of my flat, boring shade; a color I’ve wished for since I was twelve. And her voice... I could listen to her accent all day long.

“We have to share a dresser. We each get two drawers and can split the middle one with our unmentionables. I took the top because I’m so tall. I hope you don’t mind,” Autumn says with a sheepish smile. She’s sweet. And she is tall. She must have at least five inches on me.

“I don’t mind at all.” I toss my backpack onto the floor, glad to have finally reached my bed. “What’s this?” I ask, reaching for the thick black material hanging against the wall.

“Privacy curtains.” Autumn yanks on it and the curtain flies across the track, around the bunkbed, closing us off from the others.

“Like a hospital.” I guess some privacy is better than none.

“Yeah. Sort of.” She giggles, tucking strands of cinnamon hair behind her ear. She throws the curtain back, until we’re a part of the group again. “The toilet’s there, and the showers are three buildings over, to the left. Thank God, because at five in the morning, it’s a cold walk.” She shudders. “At least they gave us robes.”

“Any guesses on what Autumn was hired for?” Lorraine asks.

“Wilderness guide?” I guess, and everyone laughs.

“Close. Concierge. Trust me, you don’t want me as a wilderness guide. Everyone would get eaten.”

“Well, I for one am not leaving the confines of this beautiful property, so no one’s gonna be eatin’ this southern girl,” Tillie purrs.

“Except maybe the big bad wolf,” Autumn mocks, and they all explode with laughter. It must be an inside joke. Great. A few hours late and I’m already an outsider.

Autumn reaches out to grab my arm. “Have you seen him yet?”

I frown, confused. “Who? The big bad wolf?”

She laughs. “Henry Wolf, the owner.”

Oh. I chuckle and shake my head.

Her eyes widen knowingly. “Just you wait. There isn’t a warm-blooded female here who wouldn’t spread her legs for that man’s tongue.”

My cheeks flush. Not that I haven’t wondered what it would feel like to have a man—Jed—go down on me. I don’t understand how I’ll ever psych myself up to allowing it. I can’t even touch myself without knowing that I’ll feel sinful once my climax has come and gone. I clear my throat. “So the owner’s here?” I never bothered to read up on the Wolf family, more interested in Alaska and the hotel itself.

“I saw him step out of his helicopter yesterday morning.”

“You think you saw him,” Rachel corrects.

“Oh, believe me, there’s no mistaking that man.” Autumn takes a swig from her flask. “He spoke at my grad ceremony two years ago. I guarantee you every woman’s panties were soaked through by the end of it. Maybe a few men’s, too.”

Another round of laughter. I can feel my face turning red at the crassness of their conversation. Not that I don’t think these things, or feel these things. I’ve just been taught never to discuss them openly like this. And my circle of friends at school doesn’t talk like that either.

But if I’m going to be living and working with these ladies for the next few months, I probably should start getting used to this now.

I keep my hands busy and my eyes down as I unpack my backpack, filling the two bottom drawers with clothes for both warm and cold weather, while the girls discuss the owner.

“The exposé on him in Forbes says he made his first million when he was sixteen, on some stock investment.”

“That’s a crock. He was already born a millionaire. His grandparents owned an Alaskan gold mine.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t earn that. It was handed to him.”

“I heard this property was given to him.”

“And his brother.”

“No, apparently it was all willed to him! Can you imagine the family feud over that?”

“It’s not like his brother hasn’t gotten enough. Well, maybe not yet. Their dad is still alive so he still technically owns this hotel.”

“Do you know who he’s dating? That Victoria’s Secret model. What is her name? The one on the cover of the holiday edition.”

“No. They broke up. She caught him in bed with two of her friends.”

“So that means he’s fair game.”

“I heard he’s super rigid and law-abiding, like his father. Honorable to a fault.”

“No way. Word around the Wolf is that he’s an arrogant, controlling prick who fucks women and then ditches them.”

“A guy like that must go through women like underwear.”

“I’ll gladly be his underwear.”

I listen to the back-and-forth chatter as I line my few basic toiletries up on top of the dresser. I unwrap the picture I brought of Mama and Dad and set it on the dresser, too. It’s my favorite one of them, back when they were in high school, and she was trim enough that Dad could easily wrap his arms around her waist. They got married as soon as she finished high school, my mama graduating two years after my dad. I came along almost nine months to the day after their wedding.

I leave the picture of Jed and me in the bottom of my duffel bag. The one that I’ve thrown into the trash and then fished out at least a dozen times, the pathetic, emotional part of me unable to let go. We’re sitting back-to-back on a bale of hay during the parade at the festival last summer, both smiling wide at the camera, happy as can be.

The only things I have left to put away are my bras, panties, and socks. They’ll have to go in our shared drawer. I hope Autumn doesn’t mind.

I slide open the drawer and stifle a gasp.

“I used a piece of cardboard to separate the space. You know, so we don’t end up wearing each other’s panties,” Autumn says.

“Great. Thanks,” I force out, my face burning as I study the long green dildo tucked into the side. When is she planning on using that? I could never bring myself to buy one, let alone bring it into a cabin with five other women!

I quickly empty the rest of my things out and slide the drawer shut, in case she forgot to hide it.

“So, is everyone getting together in the staff lodge tonight?” Tillie asks, watching herself in the mirror as she drags a scarlet lipstick over her bottom lip. I tried red lipstick on once, while getting dressed for Halloween, only to scrub it off minutes later. I looked like a clown. Tilly doesn’t, though. She looks sultry.

“Yeah. May as well enjoy the fun now before they work us to the bone.” Lorraine slides off her bunk and exchanges her magazine for a flask from the top drawer. I guess I missed the flask memo.

“Oh, please. I heard the massage therapists work six-hour shifts, max,” Tillie scolds.

Lorraine wiggles her hands in the air. “My precious hands need rest.”

“Those precious hands of yours better be giving my body a deep tissue massage after a long day of answering rich people’s stupid questions,” Autumn says, topping up her flask from a bottle of vodka. How much has she had? Is she always this friendly, or is she drunk? “Hey, Abbi, where’ll you be working?”

“I’m supposed to be doing Outdoor, but they put me in Housekeeping.”

“Oh, that’s where I am! We can go to the training session tomorrow morning together. Us redheads need to stick together.” Tillie’s obviously happy about this. I hate to burst her bubble and tell her that I’m being transferred as soon as Belinda sorts things out, so I keep quiet and simply smile.

“That Outdoor crew is a bunch of male pervs, anyway. They all stood behind the yoga team this morning and watched them walk through their sessions,” Rachel warns, peeling her shirt off. Katie follows suit. “We’re gonna grab a quick shower. We’ll meet you there, okay?”