Coldhearted Boss

by Grey, R. S.

  I push off the doorframe and head to grab my workout clothes.

  “Of course I’ll be packing.” She nods. “I’d completely forgotten with how busy this week has been.”

  “Oh, so you have big plans then?” I ask with my back turned toward her as I tug open the top drawer of the dresser.

  She makes a noncommittal sound, like a soft moan followed by a clearing of her throat. “Yep. My family grills out every year. Potato salad, watermelon, fireworks—”

  “For Memorial Day?”

  “The whole nine yards.”

  I hum as if I’m interested in her lies. “Do you have a big family?”

  “Why do you suddenly care?” I can hear the suspicion hardening her tone.

  “It’s a fair question. After all, you know about my family. You know I have a twin sister—”

  “And parents?” she interrupts. “Do you have those, or were you just spawned from the underworld one day?”

  I’m glad she can’t see my smile.

  “Ah yes, Rick and Judith. Been married thirty-five years this September. What about you?”

  “Yup. Parents, in love, married forever.”

  “What’re their names?” I ask, continuing the charade.

  “You won’t believe this, but Rick and Judith. What are the odds, right?”

  She’s trying to gain the upper hand with biting sarcasm, but she doesn’t realize how transparent it is. By deflecting the questions, she answers them so plainly, and I’m left with a tightness in my chest.

  Who gets defensive over simple questions about their family? Who turns abrasive when asked the names of their parents? It’s obvious she didn’t have a storybook childhood. It’s clear there are parts of her life she’s not proud of. I had my suspicions, but this confirms it.

  With my workout clothes tossed on top of the dresser, I turn and glance at her over my shoulder. Her hands are propped on her hips, her eyes assessing me coldly. If she were a cat, her claws would be out.

  I turn back around and start unbuttoning my work shirt.

  “Sounds like you have quite a weekend ahead of you.”

  She hums in agreement.

  There’s only silence after this, a moment that stretches so long I have no choice but to cave and glance back at her again. She hasn’t changed her pose at all, but her face has softened.

  I arch a brow.

  She tilts her head.

  A little dimple starts to appear beside her lips as she fights off her smile.

  “I don’t suppose you ever believed I was leaving, not even for one second?”

  “No.”

  “Why did you let me carry on like that for so long then?”

  “It amuses me.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Would you believe that until I met you, I would have called myself an honest person? Something about you…” She waves her hands to encompass my body as if that’s the root of our issues. “It’s just—you’re so damn difficult and stubborn and rude, and if I’m speaking frankly, which I guess I am because I’ve said too much already, I’d rather swallow my tongue than speak the truth to you, than share one piece of my life beyond the four walls of this cabin.”

  Her honesty stings more than she probably intended. I know we’ve pushed each other to our limits and likely crossed every line there is to cross, and yet I don’t feel good about how far we’ve dragged each other through the mud. I didn’t realize how dirty we’d gotten. In fact, I’m not even sure we’d ever find our way out of this war if we tried. The realization cuts as deep as a knife.

  I yank off my shirt and replace it with a t-shirt before I speak again. “What a charming confession. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to work out.”

  I try to move around her, but she blocks my path, arms coming up to grip my biceps, or at least try to. She’s too small to really do much.

  “Did I…Did I just hurt—”

  She cuts herself off as she studies my face intently, searching for something I won’t reveal. Then she shakes her head in confirmation as if there’s no possible way she could have hurt my feelings. To her, I have none.

  When I don’t speak, she takes a step closer. Her body is only an inch or two away from mine and even though I’m over six feet, a soft breeze could sway me in her direction and bring me right up against her. What would it feel like? Different than the first time? Better?

  “The point I was trying to hint toward is: aren’t you tired?” she asks, sounding exhausted. “Of this? Don’t you think you and I could be friends if only we’d put down our weapons?”

  “Do you always call your friends stubborn and rude?”

  She hasn’t picked up on the fact that she’s bruised my ego. She still thinks we’re playing a game. She aims a teasing smile up at me and my cold heart wants to thaw, but instead, I double down on my annoyance. I’ve seen that smile aimed at every man around the jobsite this week. She has so many of them wrapped around her finger and I refuse to add myself to the multitude jumping for the chance to vie for her attention.

  “Only if they deserve it,” she answers. “And you, Ethan, deserved to hear that more than any man I’ve ever met.” Her smile widens. Her eyes glitter with good humor. “You should hear the names I’ve called you in my head. Stubborn and rude sound like glowing compliments compared to the rest, I assure you.”

  I glance over her head, trying hard to keep my dejection off my face. “Actually, now that you bring it up, I’ve found I’m all set in the friend department. I think you and I better just stick with the relationship we know best.”

  “Which is?” she asks, hopeful.

  “Employer and employee,” I say coldly.

  She rears back, stricken, and I use the opportunity to push past her and leave the cabin.

  Chapter 22

  Taylor

  Well that went amazingly well. I tried to extend an olive branch, and Ethan broke it over his knee and tossed it in my face. I don’t understand him—truly. Being around him is on par with traversing a minefield. I’m failing miserably.

  Every time I try to push us in the direction of friendship and peace, he seems to want to do the exact opposite.

  Sometimes I truly think this is who he is—a mean, spiteful man—but I know that’s not the case. I’ve seen glimpses of another side of him, moments when he’s on the phone with his sister or playing cards with Robert. There’s an easygoing, charming side to him, a compelling, smiling, warmhearted man I’d really like to get to know.

  Of course, I probably never will.

  He stays out of the cabin the rest of the night, or at least until I’m asleep. When I wake up in the morning, I hear soft sounds coming from the bathroom: the ting of a toothbrush as it hits a cup, the sink running and then cutting off. I blink my eyes open and immediately search for him.

  The bathroom door is cracked just enough that I can peer past the frame. I have a clear view of him and my lips part on impulse.

  He’s standing at the sink with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  The air in the cabin is spiced with his body wash and I inhale deeply, filling my lungs as I watch him lean forward and drag his razor down the bottom of his cheek and jaw. The tan muscles in his back flex as his arm moves and I’m a spectator at a tennis match, my eyes flitting from one swoon-worthy part of him to another: wide shoulders, tapered waist, the smooth ridge of muscles across his shoulders and biceps.

  But that’s just the back of him. The mirror reflects his abs and chest too, and I want to kick off my blankets, suddenly overheated, but I can’t. I’d draw attention to myself and the fact that I’m awake, lying here, worshiping him with my eyes without him realizing it.

  His razor glides along another patch of his cheek and I watch, enraptured. I’d love to feel his skin there: the juxtaposition of his freshly shaved, smooth skin and hard jaw. He’s more tan now than he was a few weeks ago from all the work we’ve been doing outside. It sets off his brown hair and brown eyes even more, one playing off of the other, mak
ing his eyes seem lighter, his hair darker.

  He finishes shaving quickly, rinses off the excess cream, and then turns.

  I jerk my eyes closed again.

  His smooth-as-scotch voice is only heightened by my lack of sight. “I could feel you watching me. Don’t pretend to sleep.”

  I wink one eye open to see he’s over at the dresser, grabbing clothes.

  “If you don’t get up,” he continues, “you’ll be late for work.”

  “You were hogging the bathroom,” I point out tartly, a little embarrassed to have been caught.

  “Well it’s free now.”

  I grind my molars and jerk the blankets off me, moving to the ladder. He doesn’t move out of the way, and I don’t bother asking him to. I start to climb down and the backs of my bare legs brush across his shoulder and arm. I’ve been sleeping in oversized t-shirts lately, foregoing the sweatpants. It’s the only way to keep cool now that spring has given way to summer, at least temperature-wise.

  I hurry the rest of the way down and he steps back, trying to give me space. It only makes the problem worse. We’re fumbling in that tight corner, trying to get around each other. His warm skin seems to envelop me. His body wash is almost overpowering and yet intoxicating. My arm brushes his abs. Our feet dance around each other. I let out an exasperated laugh at the same time his hands lock onto my biceps. Then he plucks me up off the ground and deposits me in the bathroom, out of his way.

  “Sorry,” I squeak lamely.

  He grunts and turns, leaving me frowning at his back.

  We get ready in silence and he’s about to head out the door before he speaks up again.

  “This weekend, I have friends coming to visit. Since you’ll be here, I thought you’d like to know.”

  I gulp.

  He’s not leaving?

  The only thing getting me through the last few days was the knowledge that I’d soon have a three-day weekend without him, a few days to regroup and put a lid on this boiling pot of tension.

  I have no choice. I have to leave. Scram. Hitchhike. Walk. Staying here at the camp this weekend with Ethan is not a scenario I want to play out. There would be no survivors.

  I hurry to finish getting ready and then rush to find Max at breakfast. He’s smack dab in the middle of a sea of guys, and every one of them greets me with a warm smile and a friendly wave.

  “Taylor! You hungry? Want me to grab you a plate?”

  I fend off their generous offers and nod my head toward the door.

  “Max, do you have a second?”

  Everyone’s brows shoot up.

  They’re intrigued about why I’d need to speak with Max privately. No doubt they’re reading too much into the situation, about to start singing Max and Taylor sittin’ in a tree, but I don’t have time to care because I need to speak with Max now.

  “What’s up?” he asks once we’re outside. His blond hair has grown longer in the weeks we’ve been here. He looks more boyish than ever—the antithesis of my bunkmate.

  I wring out my hands. “You’ve been catching a ride home on the weekends with Nolan, right?”

  He nods.

  “And his truck is full? Even this weekend?”

  “Yeah, we’ve even got one more than normal…but if you need a ride, we can shuffle some people around, or maybe see—”

  I cut him off, feeling uncomfortable enough as is. I don’t want to be a burden and I don’t want to take anyone else’s spot. “No, no. Don’t worry about that. I’m going to call and see if my mom can swing by and pick me up.”

  “All right, but let me know if she can’t and we’ll figure it out.”

  Throughout the day—as I run around working—I try to reach my mom. I don’t want to ask Ethan to borrow his phone since he expressly told me I wasn’t allowed to use it anymore. In fact, I’d rather use a carrier pigeon or some kind of smoke signal, but in the end, I don’t have to because I finally reach her in the late afternoon.

  Relief swells within me as soon as the call connects. I don’t have time to chitchat though.

  “Is there any chance you’ve been able to get the car out of the shop?” I ask, talking a mile a minute, scared our connection will be lost at any moment. “Like maybe the mechanic was wrong and the car doesn’t need any repairs? In fact, it’s in perfect working order and you can come pick me up here tonight?”

  “What are you talking about? What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice concerned. “The car’s still in the shop, but if you need me, I’ll find a ride and come get you.” I squeeze my eyes shut as despair fills my veins. “McKenna has a little award ceremony tonight up at the high school for making honor roll, but I could ask Nancy if she’d be willing to let me borrow her car. We’ll have to pay for gas and I’ve already been borrowing it a lot lately—”

  “No, no, Mom. It’s okay. Nothing is wrong or anything. I just miss you guys and was wanting to make it back this weekend. Don’t worry about it.”

  She sighs as if she’s just as upset about the situation as I am. “We miss you too. I wish things were different.” Her voice picks up, as if she’s trying to have enough hope for the both of us. “And they will be soon. Once I finish up school and get licensed, I’ll make all this up to you. I promise.”

  Her kind words are my undoing. Unshed tears burn my eyes and make my throat ache unbearably.

  I know I need to go find Max and insist on a ride home. I’ll sit on someone’s lap. I’ll sprawl out in the bed of the truck the whole way home, whatever it takes to get me away from this place.

  Unfortunately, it’s later in the afternoon than I realized, and I’m still back at Rose Cabin, getting it cleaned up for Ethan and his friends. I scrubbed the bathroom so it’s spotless and washed every piece of linen I could find in case they need a spare pillow or blanket. I even washed my own in case they want to borrow it. I won’t be here, so it doesn’t matter. After I finish adding water to the bucket of wildflowers on the desk, I make a mad dash back to the camp, heading straight to find Max.

  At this time of day, there’s usually still a flurry of activity. Right now, though, the place is deserted. I spot a guy from the crew heading back from the site.

  “Hey! Where is everyone?”

  He nods toward the entrance to the camp. “Ethan let everyone knock off a little early. They were anxious to get home for the long weekend.”

  WHAT?!

  I panic and start to hurry away before I realize how rude I’m being and throw a “Thanks! Have a good weekend!” over my shoulder.

  The bunkhouses are all but empty. A few stragglers are left, packing up last-minute belongings. I search for Max among them, asking if anyone’s seen him. One guy finally has an answer.

  “Nolan was in a rush to leave. They all set off about an hour ago.”

  My heart plummets. Max is already gone? He left without seeing if I had a ride or not? I guess I did insist I’d figure it out, but still…

  I glance around, taking in the three stragglers I don’t know all that well. I couldn’t even tell you their names if push came to shove. Still, at the moment, they’re my only option.

  “Is there any chance you guys are heading west toward Oak Dale?”

  The guy closest to me, the one who told me Nolan already left, shakes his head. “We’re going to Louisiana.”

  In other words, they’ll be going in the exact opposite direction.

  It’s for the best. I probably shouldn’t get into a car with near strangers anyway, even if they are part of Ethan’s crew. But for the record, I would have! I would have gone wherever the hell these guys were going—Oh, wow, what a charming murder shack!—if it meant escaping from here.

  I thank them for the information and tell them to have a good weekend, and then I walk with slumped shoulders out of the cabin. I’m defeated. Squashed. It’s the same way I felt that night at the bar—the night I first met Ethan. I’m so close to crying, one wrong glance could push me toward a complete meltdown.

  Then voi
ces and laughter carry over the sounds of chirping and humming from the surrounding forest. I glance up just in time to watch a group of people walk past the mess hall with backpacks and luggage. Ethan is among them.

  His friends!

  I watch them pause for a second and Ethan starts pointing out a few things, directing their attention down to the construction site and the lake, though neither is visible from where we are. He points to the trail that leads toward the cabins and then just before he turns toward the bunkhouses, I jump back inside and try to hide. It’s poor timing, though, because the guys are finished packing and trying to leave. I bump into one of them, my elbow colliding with his stomach, and he grunts. I cringe, praying Ethan and his group haven’t spotted us.

  “Sorry! I’m sorry.”

  He shakes off my apology, unbothered, and then they’re gone, leaving me there alone in the bunkhouse with my back pressed against the wall, my breathing completely erratic.

  I’d just stay here all weekend if I could, but I have nothing with me: no clothes, no food, nothing to do to distract me for three long days. It’s the food that would really end up forcing me out of hibernation. I could scavenge for berries behind the bunkhouses, but I don’t know the first thing about which ones are edible or not. Chances are I’d end up poisoning myself. I’d hate to give Ethan the satisfaction.

  I know I’ll have to cave and show my face eventually, so I decide it’s better to get it over with now.

  I’ll introduce myself and explain that the cabin is all theirs after I gather my things. On my way back to the bunkhouse, I’ll grab some food then strip one of these beds, wash the linens, and hide out here all weekend.

  It’s fine.

  It will be fine.

  Just as soon as I get this awkward introduction over with.

  Chapter 23

  Taylor

  Walking out of that bunkhouse is on par with pulling myself up out of the trenches on a battlefield and walking toward enemy fire with no protection, no shield, nada. Ethan and his friends notice me walking toward them right away and I’m left to close the last several yards with eight pairs of eyes aimed straight at me.