Just Once by Julianna Keyes

I step closer and rub her back. “He’s a fucker. But right now we really need you in the dining room. I think Lisa broke her nose.”
    Hailey stares at me. “No way.”
    “Way.”
    “Was there blood?”
    “Lots.”
    She books it inside.
    “What the hell are you doing?” Shane asks, appearing from nowhere. I nearly jump out of my skin.
    “What are you talking about?”
    He looks from my face to the frying pan to the dented, listing garbage can. “I came to see what the banging was and find you taking out your rage in an unhealthy way.”
    I can’t talk to him right now. I’m suffering my own kind of hang over—dream hang over—and all I can see is the top of his head disappearing between my legs. I blush furiously and avoid his eyes.
    “It wasn’t me,” I mumble, returning to the building.
    “Who broke their nose?” he calls.
    I point over my head in the general direction of the lodge and hear him curse and follow.
    “French toast!” Alec cries when I return.
    “On it,” I answer, snatching up the recipe and a mixing bowl on my way to the pantry.
    “Nose?” Shane asks, stopping me with a hand on my elbow.
    “Bathroom.”
    He nods and disappears in search of our victim.
    I scramble around in the pantry for ingredients, hastily dumping them into the bowl. I don’t cook often, but I know how to follow a recipe, and—with the exception of spilling half a bottle of vanilla extract down my shirt—things come together. I’m soon delivering a gallon of frothy French toast batter to a harried Alec.
    “Thank you,” he mutters, dropping in half a dozen slices of bread.
    “No problem.”
    Hailey comes in with a stack of dirty plates. “How’s everything out there?” I ask.
    “Under control,” she answers, nodding to show she means it.
    “Okay.”
    I grab a paper towel and pat down my sickly-sweet-smelling chest, then cross through the laundry room to check on Lisa. I find her sitting on the toilet with Shane crouched in front of her, open first aid kit at his side.
    “What’s the verdict?” I ask.
    “Not broken,” he says. “And not bent, either,” he adds, when Lisa opens her mouth to ask.
    “You’ll still be pretty,” I assure her.
    “I will?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Tears slip down her cheeks. “Good.”
    Becca’s still standing there, wringing her hands. “Go help in the dining room,” I tell her. “It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.”
    “Was too,” Lisa mumbles.
    “Go,” I tell Becca before she can start crying again.
    Shane finishes patting down the strips of white tape holding gauze to Lisa’s nose and looks at me.
    “Can I do anything?” I ask.
    “Nope. But you’ll be down a cabin girl for the morning. Get some rest,” he tells Lisa. She rises unsteadily and weaves her way out the side entrance in the general direction of the staircase to the bunkhouse.
    “Jesus,” I say. “What a morning.”
    Shane packs up the first aid kit and rises. I step aside to let him pass, but he doesn’t move. “Why?” he asks. “What else happened?”
    I watch his lips move. See a flash of pink tongue. What is wrong with me? I shake my head. I don’t want to get into it.
    His eyes lower to my breasts, and I scowl indignantly before realizing he’s staring at the brown vanilla stain on my white shirt. He lifts his gaze and smiles, knowing exactly what I thought. He steps close, too close, as he passes, dipping his head to speak into my ear. “Be careful out there,” he says softly, and the feel of his hot breath on my neck undoes all my cold shower’s hard work.

    “Okay,” I say to the three remaining girls an hour later. We’re standing in the supply closet, each with a basket of cleaning supplies and fresh towels. “Lisa’s out for the rest of the day, so I’ll be helping with cabins.”
    The ranch is filled to capacity all summer, which means there are fifteen occupied cabins to get through in just under three hours. “I’ve been noticing some…oversights in