The first time he saw her, he wasn't that impressed.
Her breasts barely made a dent in her slightly oversized T-shirt. Kinky-curly red hair was pulled haphazardly into a bun at the nape of her neck. She was shapely in an athletic way and looked like she knew her way around a basketball court, but she wasn't toned by any means. Her shy smile made her eyes crinkle in the corners, so she knew how to laugh. That, at least, was a plus.
But even then, there were plenty of other girls to look at and appreciate. Being part of the minority gender at this weekend leadership retreat definitely had its perks.
Focus, Milo. You're here to work, not to troll for women.
But, as he watched woman after woman lean over and pick up her information packet at the welcome table, he wasn't left wanting for cleavage. Modest necklines turned into windows as gravity tugged at buttons. He felt the zipper of his jeans pulse.
Not NOW. Seriously?
He pulled a Nikon DSLR out of his camera bag and fiddled with the flash settings, trying to refocus his attention on the job at hand. He'd been hired by the social media manager of the company to document the weekend. Something about "making the company look more relatable to prospective clients and employees." Even though he was able to make a decent living as a photographer, he wanted to gain more notoriety. Which is why he had accepted this gig. The pay was excellent, and the exposure he would get from the finished product would definitely boost his business.
And the view isn't bad, either.
He shook his head to clear his mind one more time and settled on the appropriate camera settings. Raising the lens, he focused on a group of men and women by the elaborate fountain in the lobby.
Click click. That's the sound of payday, baby.
He turned and snapped a few more photos of employees mingling here, brown-nosing the boss over there. The social media manager -- Cliff, was it? -- was in the middle of the fray, iPhone 6 Plus cradled in his palm. Milo noted the Apple device and nodded his approval. He and Cliff had something in common. Good man.
Milo pushed his black bangs out of his eyes. He'd meant to trim his hair before he came, but that hadn't panned out. What was the point? He wasn't here to impress anyone, and the shaggy photographer look was in vogue, anyway. Win-win.
Capping his lens, he placed the camera back in the bag. That was enough bullshit pictures for now.
The people look relatable enough to me, anyway.
Not that he was a people person. He just knew how to read them. That skill was good for business.
He sauntered back to his room, grabbing a root beer from the vending machine on the way. The company had been kind enough to pay for his housing at the Aurora Pines Retreat & Resort, and he was going to take advantage of every amenity he could when he wasn't on photog duty. Hot tub on the private balcony? Check. Bidet? Wouldn't use it, still had it. Room service included? Yup.
This place is fucking incredible.
As he slid his keycard into the slot of his door, a flash of red caught his eye. At the end of the hall, sitting on the floor and reading a novel, was the red-haired woman he'd seen -- well, panned -- earlier.
She must hate crowds, too.
Seeing no harm in saying hello, he walked over and sat down across the hallway from her. She looked up in surprise.
"Oh. Hi."
"Hey. Not feeling the corporate bullshit vibe?" he grinned.
She smiled sheepishly. "Not really. I don't really fit in with that crowd." Dog-earing her book to save her place, she set it on the floor and lifted green eyes to meet his gaze. "I just joined the company a couple weeks ago. IT department. Hence my lack of business attire."
Milo laughed and gestured at the logo on her shirt. "I don't know, 'Keep Portland Weird' feels pretty formal to me."
Her smile widened and she held out her hand. "Elisha."
"Milo."
A red curl fell across her forehead, and she broke the handshake to push it back into her bun.
"Leave it," Milo said, before he could stop himself. "It's pretty, all loose like that."
What the hell?
Elisha affected a fake Southern drawl. "Well gosh, mister. Aren't you the sweetest thing."
