I stumble over my words when the door slams. I stop in the middle of a sentence and it takes me a few moments to remember what I was saying. I’ve never seen anyone like him before. His body seems to take up the entire width of the door, and even from the front of the room I can sense the fresh forest air that surrounds him.
His eyes look black from here. His beard is full and he stands completely still as he stares at me. My heart is thumping and I forget to breathe until Cecilia clears her throat beside me. I snap out of my stupor.
“…and the stringent conservation practices that have been displayed thus far in the project will continue for the full duration. As mentioned, a percentage of the hotel’s profits will go toward the maintenance of the National Park.”
I flick to the next slide and try to avoid looking at the man. It’s almost like I can sense his every movement. I know that he moves to the left and takes the first available seat. I know that he nods at the sheriff, and I know that he keeps his eyes locked on me.
I know that the space between my thighs is pulsing, and my cheeks are burning even when I’m not looking in his direction. I know that I want to learn his name, and I want to smell his chest and feel his body against mine.
With a shake of my head, I finish my presentation and hand it over to Cecilia. She continues to speak and it takes all my self-control to keep my eyes from wandering toward the stranger at the back of the room.
I can’t do it. I have to give in. I flick my eyes toward him and feel the heat in my core increase when I see he’s looking straight at me. I don’t hear Cecilia or the questions from the crowd or anything else for the next few minutes. All I hear is my own heartbeat in my ears and all I see is the stranger’s broad shoulders and his dark eyes staring straight at me.
“Madeline?” Cecilia says, eyes wide as she stares at me. I whip my head toward her and she gives me a loaded look. “The gentleman in the green shirt was wondering what we were going to do about the waste produced by the hotel.”
I jump up off my seat and grab the microphone from her, putting on my most professional face. I turn to the man who asked the question and answer as best I can, saying exactly what I’ve been trained to say. His lips purse as I speak and his eyebrows come together, and I know that I haven’t convinced him.
My heart jumps when the man in the back stands up. He stalks toward the podium in the center aisle and the man in the green shirt steps aside. A hush falls over the room as everyone waits for him to speak. My heart is thumping against my ribcage and I try my hardest to keep my gaze steady on him.
Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.
He finally opens his mouth to speak and I hear the smooth baritone notes of his voice. It sends a thrill through my whole body to hear his voice’s rich depth. I’m so focused on listening to him speak that I almost don’t hear what he says.
“… and these forests have been protected for generations. Nothing that you have said today guarantees the conservation of the forest and its inhabitants. In fact, the increase in tourism will do nothing but destroy the mountains that we have come to love and respect. It’s people like you,” he says, lifting a hand to point directly at me. “People like you who come from the city and try to tell us what to think. We don’t care about your profits, or your jobs, or your money. We care about the mountains and we care about this town. Build your hotel elsewhere.”
The room erupts in applause. The man in the green shirt stands up to clap the stranger on the back. Now that he’s close, I can see that his eyes are dark, almost black. They’re burning with anger and right now the full force of it is directed at me. I take a step back before squaring my shoulders and clenching my jaw. He won’t make me back down so easily.
“Mr... I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” I start.
“Clarke.”
“Mr. Clarke,” I continue. “I understand your reservations. I can assure you that every precaution will be taken to – ”
“Your precautions don’t mean shit,” he interrupts. I can feel my spine stiffening, and the pulsing between my legs dies down as the anger builds inside me. “All you care about is the bottom line. You can show us these fancy presentations and graphs and figures but it means fuck all.”
Before I can answer, Margaret, the hotel owner, jumps up from her seat.
“That’s enough, Aiden. You have no right to waltz back into town and say this kind of thing when you’ve done nothing but live on your own up in the mountains. If it wasn’t for MY garage, you probably wouldn’t even care if this town existed. You have no idea what this town has been through over the past couple years. This hotel is our ticket to new industry, new people, to new life.”
Aiden’s face darkens as he turns toward Margaret. His lip curls upwards into a snarl and my heart jumps in my chest as I wait to hear him speak.
Before he can say anything, Sheriff Whittaker takes a step forward.
“That’s enough now. Margaret, Aiden, sit down.” He speaks with authority, and after a few tense seconds, both of them back down. I watch as Aiden stalks toward the back of the room and walks straight out the door. When it slams shut behind him, my shoulders slump and I feel like the breath has left my body.
The rest of the meeting is a blur. Before I know it, the townspeople are filtering out and I’m gathering my things. Cecilia says something to me and I answer, not knowing what either of us say. When I get back to the hotel, Margaret McCoy congratulates me on my presentation and all I can do is grunt in response.
There’s only one thing on my mind, and it isn’t the presentation. It isn’t the hotel, or construction, or engineering. It’s him. All I can think of is the way his body seemed to fill the whole room, and the way his eyes pierced through me.
Aiden Clarke.
I know his name, but I need to find out who he is. I need to see him again.