Coldhearted Boss

by Grey, R. S.

Isla comes to the same conclusion.

  “Hate to break it to you, but I think you’re right…he must just not like you.”

  Chapter 24

  Ethan

  I’m annoyed with Taylor for offering up our cabin to my friends. Oh, sure, as a doting brother, I should want Isla to take my bunk rather than forcing her to sleep on the ground, but y’know what? Isla is nothing if not resourceful. She brought an inflatable mattress and a four-person tent just for herself. Even if she hadn’t come equipped, she would have had no issue finding a nice bear den, scaring the bear off, and settling in for the night.

  Not to mention she was the one to force this weekend even after I told her there was nowhere for people to sleep. It’s just like her to finagle a nice, comfy cabin for herself while kicking me to the curb, although I guess technically Taylor’s the reason I’ll be sleeping on the ground tonight, not Isla.

  Taylor.

  The woman currently sitting across from me at the other end of the table, trying to blend into her surroundings. I know she doesn’t want to be here. She hasn’t said a word to me since she reappeared from the cabin with Camille and Isla. In the time the rest of us were out here setting up tents and unrolling sleeping bags, the three of them were “freshening up”. Isla and Camille both look like they’re dressed for a garden party rather than dinner in a camp mess hall. Taylor showered and changed, but Isla must not have won the dress battle because she’s still wearing jeans and a simple white blouse. She’s fresh-faced, with a pink tinge of color on her tan cheeks. Her dark chestnut hair is starting to softly curl as it air-dries.

  Tanner wasted no time going over to chat with her when they rejoined us at the center of camp. Meanwhile, I struggled with the tent Isla brought—a large, ridiculous contraption that would take a whole crew an entire day to set up. Tanner made the girls laugh, and I nearly threw a metal pole at a tree. As a longtime friend of Isla’s, I know he’s a good guy, which is precisely why I don’t think it was a good idea that Isla invited him here this weekend. He’s had a crush on her for years and she’s dangled him on a string. Now, maybe he’s sick of waiting around, because he’s made it perfectly obvious he’s into Taylor.

  He asked me about her while we set up.

  “So she works for you? That must be interesting.”

  “Why would it be interesting?” I asked blankly, focusing on the forty-five-page instruction manual that came with Isla’s tent. It might as well have been in Chinese. I work in construction and still had no idea what I was doing.

  “Oh just because, I mean…she’s obviously attractive.”

  “It hasn’t been an issue. Hand me that stake, will you?”

  A few minutes passed before he steered the conversation back to her. “So is she dating anyone?”

  “Why would I know the answer to that?”

  “I thought you two were friends.”

  I could tell from the break in his voice that I was making the guy sweat, so I decided to ease up. “She’s my employee, Tanner. If you’re curious about her relationship status, you’ll have to ask her.”

  That must be exactly what he planned to do because after Brody and I finished grilling chicken for dinner, Tanner snatched up the seat beside Taylor at the table in the mess hall. Right now, they’re at one end and I’m at the other.

  We’re all digging into our meals. Conversation flows around the table, except for near me.

  Brody passes me a beer and I give him a thankful nod while I pop the tab and take a long drink. When I go to set it back down, I look up just in time to see Taylor unleash a devastating smile aimed at Tanner. He leans closer to say something. She blushes and shakes her head and then Isla joins in, laughing alongside them.

  The aluminum crinkles in my hand and I immediately loosen my grip when I get a few curious stares. I’m quickly encroaching on Hulk territory.

  “I’d love to take a tour of the jobsite after we finish dinner, Ethan,” Camille says with a seductive lilt. I glance down beneath the table, notice she’s still wearing those ridiculous shoes, and shake my head.

  “My partners would kill me if I let you guys get near the site without wearing closed-toe shoes, not to mention it’s already dark. There’s nothing to see.”

  She pouts and goes back to pushing potato salad around on her plate. “Maybe tomorrow morning then.”

  “Oh, actually…” Isla says, loudly enough to catch everyone’s attention. “I was thinking it’d be fun to spend the day at the lake tomorrow. The weather’s supposed to be really warm and Brody brought some speakers so we can set up music. Plus I have a volleyball net if we want to play.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” I protest with a sharp tone. It’s best to take a firm stance when dealing with Isla. “It’s too close to the site.”

  A small voice speaks up from the other end of the table, a voice I’ve come to know all too well. “It’s actually totally safe if we stay on the right side, closer to the edge of the clearing near the forest. All the framing supplies are piled up neatly on the other side of the lake and there—”

  “There could still be debris scattered around there.”

  I expect that to be the end of the conversation, but then she continues, “I’ve never seen anything like that when I go—”

  “Go where?” I ask with a bite to my tone, my gaze crashing into hers across the table. She swallows past a lump in her throat, and for one brief second I don’t think she has the courage to continue down this path in front of everyone. Then she surprises me by lifting her chin and speaking clearly.

  “To swim.”

  “Swim? On the weekends when you’re not even supposed to stay here, you mean?”

  She shrugs in an act of defiance. “Don’t pretend to be angry with me now. You already know I stay here.”

  Her cavalier expression only heightens my anger.

  “Yes, but I wrongly assumed you had enough sense to stay away from the site. What would happen if you stepped on a nail or some other piece of scrap metal lying around? Your phone doesn’t even work!”

  My voice is nearly booming now as I imagine her out here all alone, bleeding. A nail in the foot might not seem so bad, but if she were out here for two days by herself with no way to see a doctor or get stitches…

  Camille’s hand hits my arm and I realize then that everyone has turned to look at me with wide eyes, slightly unnerved by my reaction, but no one is brave enough to say a damn word except for Taylor.

  “Yes, well, it’s too late to go back and erase what I’ve already done,” she says in a steely manner. “The fact is, I’ve never come close to injuring myself, and if you’re intent on ensuring everyone’s safety, well then, there’s a solution. We’ll all put on boots first thing in the morning and make sure the area is clear. With there being so many of us, it shouldn’t take long.”

  “I don’t have any boots,” Camille protests weakly.

  Taylor’s gaze practically flays her. “Well then you can just stay back and sleep in. How’s that?”

  “Sounds good!” Isla answers for me.

  She’s the only one at the table in good spirits. In fact, she’s smiling like a fool, asking Brody to pass her the potato salad.

  It takes the second half of the meal to recover the mood. Even then, I can feel my friends glancing back and forth between Taylor and me, waiting to see when round two will begin.

  As soon as we’re done eating, Taylor stands and makes excuses so she can head to bed even though it’s still early.

  Everyone protests, Tanner most of all. “C’mon, the night’s young. I promise to protect you if Ethan decides to go all caveman again.”

  There are a few quiet laughs as everyone looks to me. It’s clear I should be the one inviting Taylor to stay since I’m the one who made her feel so uncomfortable in the first place.

  Instead, I raise my beer. “Good night.”

  Taylor’s gaze is full of amber fire when she glares at me before turning and storming out of the room.
r />   “Well good job, big brother, you successfully scared her off. Now what are you going to do? Pick a fight with a baby bunny? Maybe harass a little fawn?”

  We stay in the mess hall as night falls, swapping our dinner plates for a deck of cards. The atmosphere isn’t so fraught with tension now that Taylor’s gone, but still, no one tries to drag me out of my surly mood, which is just as well because they wouldn’t succeed. We pair up and play cards well past everyone’s bedtime. Having Camille as a partner is more ideal than I first thought it would be because having to carry the team means I’m distracted for a few hours, which is exactly what I needed. Brody and Liv are the first to peel off. Camille is next. Then Jace and Alice. Tanner volunteers to walk Isla back to the cabin and I’m left there to toss the beer cans in the recycling bin and close up the snacks.

  I have no idea what time it is when I’m done. I could collapse on the spot, but then I realize grumpily that everything I need is back in the cabin, a toothbrush being the top priority. I carry a lantern out into the woods and use it to light the path back to the cabin, careful to skip the stair that creaks on my way up to the porch. At the door, I set the lantern down so it casts just enough light into the cabin that I can see where I’m stepping but not so much that I’ll wake anybody up.

  Inside, I spot Taylor asleep on the ground and frown as I sweep my gaze up to her bunk, finding Camille dozing peacefully beneath a black silk sleep mask.

  If it wouldn’t cause a scene, I’d wake her up and demand she get out of Taylor’s bed. It’s a silly impulse, and yet something in me stirs when I glance back down to Taylor there on the ground. She has a blanket underneath her, but that’s hardly enough to soften the wood floor. She shivers in her sleep and rolls over, tugging up the thin sheet covering her, but then her feet peek out at the bottom.

  I know it’s her own damn fault for conceding her bunk to Camille in the first place, but I still yank a sweatshirt out of the dresser drawer and use it to cover the bottom half of her legs.

  My feelings toward Taylor are nothing short of a conundrum. Even now, I know if she woke up, she’d fling off my sweatshirt and claim she doesn’t need it, and I wouldn’t blame her. Not after the curt goodbye I offered her at dinner.

  I know I’m behaving like an ass, and I wish I could go back to the version of myself I was before Taylor. I can’t remember ever having a difficult time reining in my emotions around a woman. If anything, my issue was having any emotions to rein in.

  If you asked any of my past girlfriends if I was coldhearted, they would have laughed and said, Ethan? Ethan was perfectly nice.

  And I was.

  Our relationships didn’t fizzle because of my inability to treat them well. They fizzled for all the other reasons: lost interest, stagnant feelings, incompatibility.

  Taylor and I? We’d have entirely different issues…starting with her smart mouth.

  In the beginning, I hated her for what she did to me. I painted her out as a monster and never gave her the chance to prove otherwise. Any time she was vulnerable, I assumed she was pretending, acting like a damsel in distress to serve her own malicious intent. Each time another man fell over himself trying to please her, I figured it was because she craved the attention.

  It occurs to me now that painting her in that light was a defense mechanism, my way to heal a bruised ego. I got hurt and wanted to safeguard against it happening again, so I made her small, because otherwise, I’d be a simpering fool, chasing after the woman who lured me into a bathroom so she could steal my wallet. It seemed pathetic to forgive her so easily for her transgressions, and yet now I realize, somewhere along the way, I did forgive her. Deep down, I know she’s just a young woman with few options who was pushed into a corner, one who made a mistake and has more than atoned for it.

  In fact, I don’t just forgive her for what she’s done; I trust her. I trust that she’s here for the right reasons, that deep down she’s not malicious or cruel. She’s a fighter. A survivor. Someone I’ve actually come to admire.

  Our game of tit for tat these last few weeks was never truly about mutual hatred. We’ve been needling each other because we both secretly like it, because the button-pushing banter and teasing remarks are the only ways we’ve allowed ourselves to reveal our true feelings.

  I realize I’m still standing in the cabin, dragging my hand through my hair and behaving like a perfect creep just staring down at her on the ground. With an inward groan, I snatch my toothbrush and some clothes for tomorrow and then I leave, wondering where she and I could possibly go from here.

  Chapter 25

  Taylor

  “It looks AMAZING,” Isla exclaims, stepping back with wide eyes and a hand covering her mouth.

  “No. Absolutely not. I’m not wearing this.”

  “What? C’mon. It’s a one-piece. You’re practically fully clothed.”

  Isla is totally out of her mind. The bathing suit she insisted I try on is a one-piece, but it’s a one-piece that looks like it belongs on the set of Baywatch. It’s bright red with a plunging scoop neck.

  “It’s the same style as the one I have on!” she protests, waving down her body.

  Maybe that’s true, but I am much more endowed than Isla, and what looks tasteful and demure on her looks wholly scandalous on me. My boobs and butt are too big. I need like four more bathing suits layered over this one if I’m ever going to leave this cabin.

  Camille is wearing a white two-piece with a yellow sarong knotted at her hip, and yet again, it looks tasteful because she’s lithe and tall.

  It’s like I’m the only one of us who’s gone through puberty.

  “Camille, tell her she looks great.”

  She scrunches her nose like a little chipmunk. “The red is very bright, but yeah, it does look really good.”

  Camille’s decided to play nice this morning, which I appreciate considering I currently have very little patience for her. I had a terrible night of sleep. My neck is sore and my back aches and I woke up in the middle of the night hugging a random sweatshirt that smelled an awful lot like Ethan, which is disconcerting on so many levels. When I realized what I was doing, I flung it away, but only so far that I could still reach out and bring it right back since it was kind of nice to have the extra padding under my head, and well, the man smells divine. I can’t fault him there.

  I think the scent actually rubbed off on me. Even now, I can still smell it. I’d jump straight in the shower but we’re about to go down to the lake and there’s no point in rinsing off beforehand.

  “Just throw something on over it and let’s go,” Isla says, tossing me the sweatshirt. I have no idea how it came to be in my possession last night, but I’m definitely not wearing it out of the cabin. Can you imagine what Ethan would do if I showed up to breakfast in his clothes?

  I don’t want to find out.

  I fold it neatly, set it on the dresser, and then find the only set of clothing I have that make sense for a day at the lake: a white t-shirt and those denim cutoffs I was teasing Ethan with the other week. Who would have thought they’d actually come in handy? Isla lets me borrow a pair of her sandals so I don’t have to wear my work boots, and then we’re off.

  The guys took pity on us this morning and went down to the lake for cleanup duty without us. I was still sleeping when Isla waltzed in with three coffees, letting the cabin door slam closed behind her.

  “Good news, sleepyheads! The site is cleared, the volleyball net is being hung, and Brody’s already frying up bacon, so you two need to get up because I’m one of those people who gets really affected by FOMO, and even now, I wonder if everyone’s down there having fun without us.”

  * * *

  We walk toward the lake together, and I feel silly for the anxiety building up inside of me. This morning, again, I tried to tell Isla it was a bad idea for me to come along and spend the day with them. She saw the way Ethan treated me last night. There can be no confusion over the fact that he doesn’t want me hanging arou
nd. I’m just his employee. To which she replied, “Well, screw that! You’re my invited guest. How’s that?”

  Even Camille nodded in agreement. “It’s going to be a pretty day. Don’t you want to swim?”

  I think her opinion of me has cooled now that she knows I’m in no way competing for Ethan’s attention. She was at that table. She saw how he spoke to me, saw she has no reason to be jealous.

  I’m grateful for that, at least, because I’d prefer to only have one enemy at the lake today. Especially because when we arrive at the spot where the trees give way to a sandy, pebbled beach, my gaze seeks him out right away. A sucker punch would be less painful than the reaction I have seeing him standing there in his swim trunks without his shirt. All the guys are dressed the same. It’s a warm morning and the sun is already high in the sky. They’re standing around a grill, laughing as they make breakfast. There’s sausage and bacon arranged on plates sitting on a cheap card table they must have hauled down from the mess hall.

  Behind them, closer to the water, they’ve set up canvas chairs in a semi-circle. I count them quickly and realize there are only eight. Panic fills my veins. Maybe Ethan really didn’t want me here. I stop short, knowing they haven’t seen us yet. I could still turn around and avoid the inevitable embarrassment, but then Isla whistles and catches their attention, thereby announcing our presence to the whole damn forest.

  Ethan’s gaze sweeps over to us. He didn’t shave this morning, and his slight stubble only makes his ruggedly chiseled features more seductive. I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue what we started last night and order me to leave, but what he does instead is somehow worse. He doesn’t smile or nod, but he also doesn’t glare angrily. In fact, his brown eyes are so sultry and warm, I could melt. That confused frown he’s wearing probably matches my own. It seems neither one of us knows how to proceed.

  My stomach fills with dread, but Isla’s hand clamps down on my arm as if she knows I’m about to bolt.