Coldhearted Boss

by Grey, R. S.

  I try to imagine what I look like to them: dusty and dirty from a long day of work. I’m wearing a Lockwood Construction t-shirt Hudson gave me a few weeks ago. I thought he was just being nice. Now, I realize it might have been his way of flirting. My jeans are ill-fitting. My work boots are scuffed and muddy. My hair is up in a high ponytail, and I haven’t looked in a mirror all day so there’s no telling how many wispy pieces have snuck out to curl at my temples, making me look childish. It’s a shame because I want so badly to appear half as intimidating as they do.

  I wish it made sense to apply a full face of makeup before a day on a construction site. I wish I were wearing a trendy outfit, just so that dark-haired girl with the red lipstick would stop staring at me like I’m raw sewage seeping up from the gutter.

  She’s the first one I spot, not only because of her sour expression but because she’s standing closest to Ethan, her hand resting on his arm possessively. The sight is the final crushing blow to what has been an all-around terrible day. For some silly reason, I’d dismissed the idea of Ethan having a girlfriend. Once I found out who Isla really was, I just assumed there was no one else. It’s not as if I’ve heard him talking to a girlfriend, but then we’re not together all day, every day, even if it sometimes feels that way.

  If he is dating her, it has to be a recent development considering what happened between us in that bar—either that or he cheated on her. I discard that thought immediately. While Ethan might have a list of bad qualities that could stretch a mile long, I don’t think being a cheater is one of them.

  “Taylor!” a feminine voice calls, and my attention flies to the woman on the other side of Ethan, the one not only waving me over but doing so with a giant smile on her face, a smile that looks eerily familiar. His sister. Isla. I blink fast, trying to reconcile how it’s possible that she could look so much like her brother and yet completely feminine at the same time. I realize they share the same eyes and the same mouth, but her chin is heart-shaped and demure. Her hair—the same rich brown as his—is shoulder-length and curled. She’s closer to my height than his and must have soaked up all the positive energy in their house growing up, because while her brother is a stormy raincloud, she’s a ray of sunshine.

  “I knew it was you the second I saw you,” she says, coming forward and wrapping me up in a tight hug as if we’re the closest of friends.

  I freeze with my hands at my sides, completely taken aback, but if my nonresponse offends her, she doesn’t let on. She steps back and her smile is still there, possibly even wider than before.

  “You’re even prettier than I imagined,” she says, her voice so low no one else can hear. “No wonder he’s been so angry lately.”

  I frown, trying to decipher what she means, but I don’t get the chance.

  The others are closing in now, demanding introductions. Now that Isla’s given her stamp of approval, they’re all eager to meet me. Well, other than the black-haired woman and Ethan. They hang back, and yes, her hand is still on his arm.

  Is she incapable of standing upright without holding on to him for support?

  Isla tugs me close to her as she starts the introductions.

  “Guys, this is Taylor. Taylor, this is Tanner,” she says, pointing to the guy closest to my left. He’s handsome with shaggy honey-brown hair that barely touches the collar of his black shirt. He reaches out to shake my hand and his grip tightens as our eyes lock. The edge of his mouth curves into a seductive smile.

  “Tanner works in the art department with me at the agency,” Isla continues. “You should see his stuff—he’s crazy talented.”

  I swear he blushes as he steps back and lets go of my hand.

  “She’s exaggerating,” Tanner insists before Isla waves her hand toward a couple standing beside him.

  “This is Brody and Liv.”

  Brody has tattoos running the length of his arms and a buzz cut. Liv is tall and delicate with a loose braid and yellow cotton dress. She looks like a librarian and he looks like the bad boy who skips class to go check out the librarian.

  “They’re married and boring,” Isla continues. Brody protests and she laughs. “I’m kidding. Just don’t expect them to stay awake past ten o’clock.”

  Beside them she points to another couple she introduces as Jace and Alice. Jace stands beside Alice with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. In fact, they’re squashed so close together, you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between them if you tried. Not only that, they almost look alike. Either they’ve coordinated on purpose or it’s a subconscious thing, but they’re both wearing thick black-framed glasses and worn Converse.

  “As you can see, they’re in that annoying new phase of a relationship,” Tanner quips. “It’s like if they stop touching, the other person might die.”

  Alice shoots him a sarcastic glare. Jace just flips him off.

  I smile at how comfortable they all are with each other. They poke fun, but it feels like it comes from a place of love.

  “And that’s Camille. She and Liv work at the same law firm,” Isla explains as she waves to the woman near Ethan.

  I nod and toss a wave toward Camille. Ethan tries to step away from her, but she clings to his arm and offers him a rueful grin. “Sorry, I’m just scared I’m going to roll an ankle out here.”

  We all glance down at her shoes and I realize that, yes, she is going to roll an ankle, because wedge heels are about the dumbest type of footwear you could wear into the middle of the forest. The only thing worse would have been stilettos.

  Ethan clears his throat and I can sense he’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue and he doesn’t leave her side. I guess he’s ever the perfect gentleman as long as it has nothing to do with me.

  “And well, you already know me, and you definitely know Ethan,” Isla says, emphasizing that word enough to ensure everyone’s ears perk up, intrigued by the insinuation.

  “He’s my boss,” I say lightly, like it’s nothing more, nothing less.

  Camille’s brow arches and her sly grin widens even more. “So you’re a construction worker?”

  She finds the idea so genuinely pleasing, she’s practically frothing at the mouth.

  “Oh, I wish. I did try to work with the crew,” I say, shooting her a playful smile. “But Ethan stole my hard hat my first day on the site and forced me to take an office job instead.”

  The group laughs, Isla most of all, but it’s clear by Camille’s barely concealed sneer that she didn’t like my answer. She wanted me to be embarrassed and flustered by her, but I steel my spine and prepare for more of her taunts. I wonder what she’d say if she knew that before this job, I worked as a motel maid. I doubt she’d even let me shake her hand for fear I’d get germs on her delicate, manicured fingers.

  “Not very nice of you, Ethan,” Tanner points out teasingly, coming to my defense. “Why’d you do that?”

  I finally meet Ethan’s eyes, surprised to see that the hatred I expected to find is absent. When our gazes meet, his expression softens, almost like he’s pleased. For once!

  “He was scared I’d be too good with a hammer,” I answer for him, aiming a private smile his way. “Didn’t want me intimidating the rest of the crew.”

  There’s more laughter while Ethan raises his brow, making my stomach dip. That haughty, teasing expression paired with his ruggedly chiseled features makes me feel no steadier on my feet than Camille. Soon, I’ll need to ask to lean on his other arm.

  Isla claps her hands, drawing everyone’s attention to her.

  “Well, now that everyone knows everyone…Ethan, would you mind telling us where we should put our stuff? I want to freshen up before dinner.”

  Freshen up?

  She looks adorable in her jean shorts and light blue blouse. I’m the one who needs to freshen up, and by freshen up, I mean scrub off the ten layers of dirt caked on my body.

  “I told you there is no place to freshen up,” Ethan says sharply. “That’s why I had Brody and Jac
e bring their tents. You guys are camping.”

  I speak up quickly, wanting to be helpful. “You’re welcome to use our cabin. It won’t fit everyone, but—”

  “No,” Ethan says, cutting me off.

  He probably doesn’t want them sleeping on his bed, but he’ll have to get over it.

  “I washed the bedding today so at least two people can sleep in there, maybe more…” I cast a quick glance to Jace and Alice. If they’re going to stay fused like that all night, they could easily share one bunk.

  “Perfect!” Isla says, grinning. “I’ll stay in the cabin with Taylor, and—”

  I shake my head. “Oh no!” I realize I’m protesting too vehemently and drawing curious stares. My tone softens as I continue, “I’d just rather someone else have my bunk.”

  “Great. I’ll take it,” Camille says quickly, sounding very relieved to be escaping a night spent in a pitched tent.

  Isla’s smile fades momentarily, but then she’s back to playing hostess again. “Well, that works out. Taylor, Camille, and I will stay in the cabin. Everyone else will camp.”

  I don’t know why she’s trying to include me here. Now that introductions are complete, I should be hurrying away to grab my things. I still need to strip a bed in one of the bunkhouses and wash the sheets. I’d rather not be doing laundry in the middle of the night.

  The group splits apart as the couples and Tanner go to grab their tents so they can set them up in the clearing by the fire pit. Ethan tries to step away from Camille, having forgotten his oh-so-important duty as her crutch, but she emits a little helpless whine, like a small pampered pet.

  Isla groans and stomps over to grab Camille’s other arm, throwing it over her shoulder like she’s a wounded soldier. “There, now, lean on me. As soon as we get to the cabin, you’re taking off those shoes.”

  Not exactly in a position to protest, Camille gives in and allows Isla to lead her away.

  I’m left standing a few yards from Ethan, suppressing the ridiculous urge I have to apologize for encroaching on his weekend.

  “You were so eager to give up your bunk, now you don’t have anywhere to sleep,” he says with a deep frown.

  I force an unaffected shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I know you just want me out of your hair for the weekend. I promise I’ll make myself scarce.”

  “That’s not…or rather, I don’t—”

  Isla comes up then and hooks her elbow through mine, cutting him off. “Let’s go, Taylor! I have a dress I brought that you’d look amazing in. You’ll have to try it on just to humor me.”

  I shake my head, trying to come up with a polite way to tell her to leave me alone, but it’s no use. Ethan’s sister is a force of nature. She drags me all the way to the cabin even as I offer up protests about this weekend, telling her it makes more sense if I hang out by myself, insisting I really don’t want to intrude or make anyone feel awkward.

  Camille stays perfectly silent, probably hoping I’ll make good on my promise to disappear. Meanwhile, Isla acts as though she hasn’t heard a single word I’ve said. She just keeps dragging us along like two pieces of luggage she’s hauling through an airport.

  As we round the corner and Rose Cabin comes into view, Camille steps away from Isla and frowns.

  “This is it?” she asks, visibly disappointed. “When you said cabin, I pictured something bigger.”

  “Like what?” Isla asks mockingly. “A resort?”

  She shrugs and starts walking toward the steps, more than steady on her feet all of a sudden. It’s a miracle!

  Isla and I look toward each other at the exact same moment—thinking the exact same thing—and we both lose it in a fit of laughter.

  Still, I force myself to sober up. This is no good. I don’t want to like Isla. It’s an inconvenience to click so well with Ethan’s sister. If anything, my life would be much simpler if she turned sullen and grouchy like her brother. Now there’s a personality I’m accustomed to dealing with.

  Isla nods her head toward the cabin and we finish walking up the steps. She pushes open the door and takes off her backpack, dropping it in the corner, out of the way.

  “My things are back in the car. I thought one of the guys was going to grab it for me.” Camille frowns, hovering in the doorway, inspecting the space from ceiling to floor as if she’s never seen a piece of architecture like this ever before.

  And what’s this charming thing called?

  Ah, a log.

  “All right, well, we’ll be here when you get back,” Isla says cheerfully, kicking off her sandals and walking over to test out the bottom bunk. The mattress bounces underneath her and she grins.

  Camille puffs air out of her nose like a disgruntled bull—a dainty disgruntled bull—and then she’s gone.

  Finally.

  “Finally!” Isla says, throwing herself back on the mattress.

  I suppress a smile. “I take it you and Camille aren’t the best of friends?”

  “What gave it away? My snarl or my glare? Truth be told, I wish we’d left her back in Austin, but Liv insisted she come. She’s new to the city and doesn’t have many friends which means we have to try to like her, but between you and me, she’s proving very hard to like. Did you see those shoes?! We’re in the middle of the woods for God’s sake!”

  I mash my lips together in an effort to keep my opinions to myself. I don’t feel like it’s my place to gossip about Ethan’s friends. I know he wouldn’t like it.

  “So are they dating?” I ask, scratching my wrist then propping my hands on my hips, looking intently at the desk as if hunting for a speck of dirt.

  “Who? Jace and Alice?”

  “No, uh…Ethan and Camille.”

  She jerks back up to a sitting position like someone who’s just been zapped in the chest with defibrillator paddles. Her forehead nearly collides with the bottom of the bunk. “WHAT?! Are you kidding?”

  Thank God.

  I can’t hide my smile, so I turn away.

  “Why would you ever think that?”

  “Oh…” I shrug, sounding casual. “Just the way she was holding on to him, and…well, she is beautiful. And delicate, like a china doll.”

  “Beautifully annoying. A delicate pain in my ass.”

  My smile has turned into a full-fledged grin.

  “Besides, she’s not Ethan’s type.”

  I whirl around. “What is his type?” My eyes go wide with the realization that I all but shouted the question and I shake my head quickly, stepping back. “No, never mind. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”

  She’s the Cheshire Cat with that grin of hers.

  “Oh, I’d say spunky brunettes in work boots are more his speed these days.”

  My cheeks flame. “We aren’t dating. Not even close.”

  “I know.”

  “He doesn’t even like me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes! And it’s getting absolutely ridiculous. There has to be some kind of explanation for it. I mean, you could say we did get off to a…rocky start, but he should have gotten over that by now! He really knows how to hold a grudge. What was his childhood like? Terrible? Haunting?”

  Her face turns solemn then and she casts her eyes toward the ground. I immediately feel like an ass for prying, but not so much that I’m prepared to backtrack. I want to know what makes Ethan tick. I want to know all his secrets.

  “This is usually where people say, ‘It isn’t my story to tell.’”

  My heart plummets, but I understand. She’s obviously going to be more loyal to her brother than to a perfect stranger.

  But then her gaze sweeps up and crashes with mine as she continues, “So if I tell you, you cannot say a word to him under penalty of death.”

  “Death?”

  “Yes. Are you prepared for the consequences?”

  She’s being perfectly serious. Her face is a mask of earnest sincerity. Then, suddenly, it’s not. Her eyes pinch closed and her hand hits he
r chest and she’s really laughing now, completely surrendering to a fit of giggles. She wipes tears from her eyes before she speaks. “Oh my gosh, sorry. Sorry. That was mean—terrible, really. I was totally kidding. ‘Penalty of death’…oh it’s too good. Really, I’ve just always wanted to say something like that and I couldn’t resist.” She clears her throat. “But getting back to your question…honestly, no. Ethan had a great childhood.”

  “That can’t be. Surely he was dropped on his head too many times when he was young?”

  She smiles mockingly. “I’m sure we would have noticed a scar or two.”

  “Jilted by a woman?”

  “Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen to men like Ethan, though I would love if it did. He deserves to be brought down a peg or two.”

  I can’t give up. I start to pace while I brainstorm. Then I stop on a dime and whirl around to face her, eyes bright with another idea. “Oh! Maybe your parents had a bad marriage? Lots of fighting? It’s tainted the idea of love for him permanently?”

  “Our parents have been married for thirty-five years this September.” That’s right. I’d forgotten. “In fact, my dad still calls my mom Honeybuns and she pretends to hate it. It’s a whole routine they do.”

  I’m shaking my head now, in full disbelief about what she’s saying.

  She tilts her head, unable to conceal her smile any longer. “What makes you think he doesn’t like you?”

  “Oh, his surly personality, constant glares, menacing presence—that sort of thing.”

  “Huh, how odd. He’s usually pretty charming.”

  “Charming?! You’re joking.”

  “I think in our senior year of high school he won best personality and dream date. There was a fuss because usually you’re only allowed to win one superlative—”

  “Was your school very small? Maybe he was the only boy in your class?”

  “Oh no. My graduating class had over 800 people.”

  So then that proves it once and for all.