Weston shot Ryder a dirty look and moved to go tell her she needed to leave. Ryder stilled him and put it on speaker, then pressed his finger to his lips.
On the third ring, Avery answered. “Big Flight ATV Tours, this is Avery, how can I help you?”
Weston drew up straight. Huh. She sounded a lot less shaky on the phone than he’d expected.
“I was wantin’ to know about booking a tour for my family,” Ryder drawled in a deep-south accent. Weston tried not to smile but failed on account of Ryder’s accent being so thick and unbelievable. “I have eight kids, ages six to nineteen, and a wife who likes to get mud in her crack. Do you have anything that can accommodate me, ma’am?”
Avery let off a surprised-sounding giggle. “That’s a great question. Let me see here.” The sound of shuffling papers blasted across the phone, and after a few moments, she recited a sentence of wording off the stack of pamphlets Weston had left on the desk. “Ages fifteen and up only for safety reasons. I’m sorry sir, but we’ll only be able to book a tour for you, your wife, and the kids over the minimum age requirement of fifteen.”
“Oh, well that’s a mighty disappointment.”
“We do have tour packages in different lengths of time, though, so if you can find someone to watch your younger children for an hour, that is our shortest tour. And they are welcome to hang out around here. We have a hiking trail and a set of horseshoes out back. Picnic tables, too, if you want to bring a lunch for them.”
“But you don’t have one of them playgrounds or nothin’ for my little angels?”
“No need for that in the Smoky Mountains, sir. The woods are the playground here.”
Ryder nodded his head like he was impressed, and honestly, Weston was, too. All of her terrified demeanor had disappeared on the phone.
“Hired. You’re hired,” Ryder said into the phone.
“Wait. What?”
No! Weston mouthed, shaking his head. Ryder didn’t understand. She wasn’t what he thought. She wasn’t just some human looking for a job. She was a fucking raven shifter probably sent from the council to keep tabs on him.
Ryder rested his hand on his hip and wore a big dumb grin on his face. “When can you start? Wait, we’re coming in.” Ryder jogged across the clearing and inside the building, leaving Weston to trail after him.
“We need to talk about this first,” Weston said, but there was Avery, standing in the open office doorway with a hopeful smile on her lips. And holy fuck, her smile stopped him in his tracks. She’d worn braces the first time he’d met her, but now her teeth were perfect. Her lips curved up so pretty, and her eyes were that bright teal that made his dick swell. Oooh, Avery was dangerous. The council knew exactly what they were doing.
“I can start right now!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Today!”
“Perfect,” Ryder said. “We can give you the tour right now.”
“No. No. No, we can’t,” Weston said, yanking Ryder to a stop. “My vote is still no on this. She isn’t right for our business.”
Avery’s face fell. “Why not?”
Because she was a fucking traitor! “You’re just not.”
Ryder’s ruddy brows lowered over his narrowed blue eyes. “What’s your problem, man? She’s good on the phone. She’s hot.”
“You can’t say that about employees.”
“Why not? It’s how I talk, and she’ll have to sink or swim.” Ryder rounded on Avery. “Do you mind me calling you hot?”
Her cheeks blushed bright red. “Well, no. No one has ever called me that.”
Ryder pointed to her and called, “Bullshit. Plus, a hot girl in the store will sell more. It’s scientifically proven.”
“By who?” Weston yelled too loud.
“By scientists!” Ryder turned to Avery again. “I’m sorry for his behavior. He’s never had a girlfriend before and doesn’t know how to talk to women.”
“Ryder, shut the fuck up,” Weston gritted out. His love life definitely didn’t need to be discussed by the raven council.
“So, what should I wear to work?” Avery asked, her attention directly on Ryder, the weak link.
“Spaghetti-strap tank tops and push-up bras would work. Do you have cut-off short shorts? I can make them for you if not. My mate has lots of scandalous clothes. I could dress you like a saloon girl if you want. Wait, maybe I should order tank tops with our logo on it. Why are you wearing a fucking sweater in the summer? Your skin is as pale as a vampire. What colors do you look good in?”
Avery was nodding her head like a bobble-head doll, and her eyes were round like tiny moons in her face. “Uuuh, blue or green. Black? I should tell you I’ve never worn cut-off shorts.”
“Why the hell not?” Ryder asked, looking appalled. “Everyone should wear them from time to time. I do.”
Avery giggled a pretty tinkling sound and tugged at the hem of her green-brown burlap sack of a sweater. “Immodest clothing isn’t allowed where I come from.” She cast a quick glance at Weston’s bare torso. “Or tattoos or piercings either.”
Yeah, well, Raven’s Hollow was a cult.
Avery’s cheeks were now roughly the shade of ripe cherries.
“Ryder,” Weston drawled, “this isn’t an appropriate discussion, and you are getting way ahead of yourself. I want to conduct more interviews.”