Beckett loved summer storms. To his mind, nothing beat a good thunderstorm for driving people inside and encouraging naps—or other horizontal activities. Not that Sarah was cooperating on either front, just now. She stood at the doorway to his cabin, looking out at the torrential downpour that had granted them an unexpected reprieve from all the hard work of the week. The other staff had mostly holed up at the big lodge for games. Those who hadn’t were ensconced in their own cabins, making the most of their leisure. He knew what he’d rather be doing with his.
“Will you come sit down?”
“Are you sure we can’t head down to the equipment shed? Do some more drills or something? I hate to waste practice time.”
It could never be said that Sarah didn’t take her tutelage seriously. “Hone
