Coldhearted Boss(37)

I sit there with my phone pressed to my ear, unaware that the call ended five minutes ago. Everyone else has already hung up.





“Where’d you find Taylor?” Robert asks later that afternoon while we’re walking the site.

I peer at him out of the corner of my eye.

“How I find any of my employees—she came to the recruiting event.”

His brows perk up. Apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “You didn’t know her before all this?”

My silence serves as a placeholder for my reply. I’d rather not lie to Robert. We’ve worked together for years, and I know from seeing him deal with my crew that I’d be hard-pressed to regain his respect if I lost it.

Our boots hit the dirt. Silence stretches on until he fills it.

“She reminds me a little of my daughter.” Then he snorts. “Nah, I take that back. My daughter’s a girly girl through and through. She’s never once asked me a question about a jobsite. Maybe I just mean that Taylor brings out some kind of paternal instinct in me.”

“Robert, are you going soft on me?” I smirk as we near the edge of the lake. We have soil engineers out here performing a secondary analysis before we continue leveling the ground.

He waves away my joke. “No, no, nothing like that. I don’t know.” He turns to study me. “She just seems a little…I don’t know, like a wounded bird. Don’t you think?”

I want to tell him it’s an act, that anything having to do with Taylor is a facade she erects for her own benefit. I saw that firsthand the night we met. She was the wounded bird then, too, and I wanted to be the one to rescue her. Turns out, I was the one who could’ve used a little rescuing.





I’m on the phone with Isla later that evening when Taylor peeks her head in the trailer and asks if I’d like her to bring me dinner since they’re about to shut down the kitchen. I didn’t realize it was so late.

“Yeah, I’ll be working for another hour or so.”

She nods and closes the door right before Isla nearly shouts, “That sounded like a woman!”

“It was.”

“Not just a woman, but a young pretty one!”

“How can you tell what someone looks like just from hearing their voice?” I mock, glad she can’t see my scowl.

“It’s a gift. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“This conversation is pointless.”

“Oh my god, I’m right! I knew it. Why didn’t you tell me there was a pretty woman working with you? Is she part of the crew?”

“She’s my assistant.”

“Oh, I see.”

I roll my eyes. “You see nothing.”

“What a scandalous turn of events,” she continues, grabbing hold of this stupid idea she’s gotten into her head.

“Goodbye, Isla.”

“Have fun with your new assistant!”

As soon as I hang up, Taylor returns balancing two plates and a can of Coke.

“They made tacos tonight and I wasn’t sure how you liked them, so I just put all the toppings on the side. Lots of guacamole, that’s a given. Some sour cream, lettuce, tomatoes. I didn’t go heavy on the hot sauce, but I can get more if you need it.”

She sets the plates down on my desk, careful not to put the food too close to the plans stretched out beside my keyboard.

Then she moves to leave.

“Taylor—”

Her name is tossed between us like a grenade. Silence follows. Then, I remind myself that usually when someone addresses another person, there’s a reason. I’m supposed to follow her name with something. Taylor, can you get me some water? Taylor, thanks for the tacos. Taylor, hi.

In truth, I said her name because I want to ask where she’s been sleeping the last two nights, but I stopped myself because I’m unsure I want to know the answer. It could be with that Max guy.

And if it is?

The thought doesn’t sit well with me. I wish I could say it’s because I’m worried about Max’s safety or wellbeing, but there’s no mistaking this twisting feeling in my gut.

“Did you need something?” she asks, brows raised with hope.

I look down at the food she carefully arranged for me. “No. That’s all.”





Chapter 16





Taylor





I’ve found that by making me prove my own usefulness, Ethan has likely turned me into a better employee than I ever would have been otherwise. I’m so determined to work hard and make him aware of how hard I’m working, I barely stop moving during the second week at the camp. If I’m not straightening up the trailer or cleaning the cabin, I’m making sure Ethan’s coffee is topped off (he does like it with sugar!) or that he hasn’t missed lunch or dinner. I run messages back and forth between Robert and Hudson and Ethan.

I don’t wait for him to tell me he needs his laundry washed again. I take the initiative and make sure it’s folded and back in his drawers when it’s all clean.

When Ethan has to go out and walk the property, I stay back and answer the central office cell phone. It rarely rings since most people who’d need to call have Ethan’s personal number, but when it does, I take thorough messages and leave them neatly on his desk for him.