Coldhearted Boss(60)

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 her 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.

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.