Coldhearted Boss(50)
I nail him to the ground with my gaze. “You done?”
He smirks, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh, just about.”
“Taylor, you’re fired.”
I have to try it, at least.
That makes Robert double over in laughter yet again before he finally walks away and gives us privacy.
Goddammit, what has happened to respecting the boss around here?!
Oh right, Taylor happened.
She’s looking up at me, all big eyes and flushed cheeks beneath that ridiculous hard hat. There’s a smile playing on her full lips. She didn’t believe the You’re fired line any more than Robert did.
“I thought you’d be happy with me this afternoon,” she says, sounding sugary sweet. “I stole two cookies from the dessert counter at lunch for you. They had the most chocolate chips out of any ones I could find.”
“You answered my phone last night and talked to Isla,” I say, abrupt and curt.
Her smile drops, face pales, and she rushes to reply, “Not intentionally!”
“Right. I unintentionally answer someone else’s phone and talk to the person on the other end all the time.”
Her pleasant mood sours with my harsh accusation—and it is harsh, but then she deserves it for snooping into my personal life, for pushing my boundaries yet again. It seems we’re always here: at each other’s throats.
“I thought I made it clear: I let you borrow my phone so you could talk to your family, not mine. Find another phone to use from now on.”
Her face turns into a mask of anger and I can tell her hand is itching to reach up and slap me. I wish she’d do it. Then I really could fire her.
“And I don’t want you staying here over the weekend.”
She stands there in silence, rage pluming off her like smoke.
Her anger isn’t enough though. I want to make sure she’s taken my words to heart. I want her assurance that she’s going to obey me. For once.
I step closer. “Have I made myself clear?”
She whips the hard hat off her head and shoves it against my chest.
“Yes sir.”
It’s no surprise that Taylor avoids me the rest of the day yet still manages to complete her work with unfailing accuracy. She’s not in the cabin by the time I’m getting ready to leave for Austin, and I get a wild idea that maybe I shouldn’t leave. Maybe I should stay and ensure she follows my orders, but I have no choice. I need to get back to Lockwood’s main office for a meeting I have in the morning with a prospective client. My partners have made it clear that I need to be present since I’m one of the main draws for them.
So, I’ll just have to assume Taylor is complying with my command and leaving for the weekend. In fact, I should be focusing my attention elsewhere during the long drive home, and yet when I pull into my driveway and walk into my quiet house, I’m still thinking of her and wondering if I’ve been too hard, too unyielding where she’s concerned.
I haven’t ever been so heavy-handed with an employee before, but to call Taylor just an employee is a gross understatement. The fact is, I’ve never lived with an employee, which is the only explanation for why it feels like she’s started to entwine herself so deeply in my life.
I’ve never thought of my house as being quiet before tonight. I’ve always loved it here. I purchased the 1960s bungalow a few years ago, back when you could still afford to buy property in Austin without breaking the bank. It’s centrally located near downtown without being in the thick of it, the lot oversized and shaded with three sprawling live oak trees. The house itself needed a lot of work. I had Steven draw up the plans for the renovation and I oversaw it slowly, painstakingly, ensuring the historical details weren’t wiped clean by the new, modern updates.
Compared to the cabin I’ve been living in, it might as well be a palatial mansion.
I wonder what Taylor would think of it, and then I yank that thought right out of my head and reach for my phone.
It’s late and I have that meeting in the morning, but I can’t just stay here. I know if I try to go to bed now, I’ll just lie awake, thinking of her and the details of a week that seemed equal parts infuriating and addicting.
Isla texted me earlier that our friends were all heading over to Easy Tiger, so that’s where I go after I rinse off and throw on a clean set of clothes. It feels good to walk into the bar and see my friends all crammed together in a booth, raising hell. When Brody sees me, he throws up his hands and they all turn, faces lighting up.
“Didn’t think you’d show,” he says, grabbing an extra chair from another table for me.
I take a seat, holding up a hand for the waiter. “Yeah, it’s been a long week. I need a beer.”
Jace and Alice are there too, nearly fused at the hip just as Isla forewarned they would be. Beside them, there’s Brody and Liv, who’ve been married for the last few years. Isla sits opposite them, and beside her is Camille, a coworker of Liv’s and a new addition to the group.
It’s funny seeing her beside Isla. The two couldn’t be more different. My sister has a row of freckles across her nose, shoulder-length brown hair, and an affinity for wearing clothes that should make absolutely no sense yet somehow blend together pretty well. Right now, she’s wearing a pair of denim overalls over a white blouse with a little silk scarf tied around her neck. Her brown eyes—a pair that match my own—shine with happiness. Any ill will I felt toward her for chatting with Taylor doesn’t stand a chance.