Ricardo really needed to keep away from Michelle. The more time he spent with her, the greater the distance between them grew.
He’d managed to lose himself in the crowd still clustered around the campfire.
Gourmet s’mores and Montana craft beer reigned—the director had mandated no more than two of the latter, so these were carefully nursed. Ricardo snagged an Ivan the Terrible Imperial Stout. He preferred the nuttiness of a brown ale, but drinking from a bottle labeled Moose Drool was more than he could face. Who knew, maybe in Montana it really was brewed with moose drool.
He found a spot off to the side near a massive guy and his Malinois dog. Something about him said military, other than his broad shoulders. Male and military was good. Ricardo could deal with that even if he no longe
