Coldhearted Boss(72)

Sunday passes in a blink. We’re at the lake again, swimming and grilling just like yesterday, but this time Taylor is by my side, delivering lazy smiles, teasing me with her seductive beauty. I keep my hands on her whenever I can. We read beside each other and when she rolls over onto her back, I dip down and give in to the urge to give her a slow, unending, drugging kiss right up until someone shouts at us to stop. That red bathing suit is going to send me to an early grave, and all day I envision what it will look like when I finally peel it off her. That night, in the tent, I take my sweet time, savoring every moment before I lose myself inside her sensuous body. I keep expecting my desire for her to diminish, but it only grows hotter, more demanding.

Monday morning, the tents are broken down, bags are packed, and the grill and coolers are loaded back into cars.

The crew is due back today and because we slept in so late and took our time with lunch, we don’t have much longer before they start to arrive.

I can tell Taylor is nervous. At breakfast, she played with her food more than she ate it, and when I tried to pull her aside to talk after everyone left, she begged off, claiming she had work to do before the crew returned to camp.

That work is apparently washing the linens from our cabin and remaking our beds.

I find her in there in the late afternoon, sitting on my bunk, her gaze intently focused on the floor at her feet.

“Taylor?”

She looks up and smiles wistfully. The expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you, actually.” She pushes off the bed. “Would it be okay if I used your phone? I haven’t talked to my family all weekend.”

I hand it off and she goes outside to sit on the porch. I try not to listen, but her voice carries easily. The topics don’t sit well with me—car repair payment and overdue bills—especially considering what she revealed to me last night in the lake.

Then her mom must ask how things are going here.

“It’s good…fine. I really enjoy the work, actually.” There’s another pause, and then she continues, “I’m not sure. Hopefully a few months. I’m not exactly an essential part of the crew or anything.”

My gut clenches, and I make myself busy so I don’t look so fucking guilty when she walks in a few minutes later.

“Thanks,” she says, walking over to pass me my phone.

Our fingers brush, her eyes sweep up to mine, and there are two conflicting emotions warring there: desire and reservation.

“I heard your conversation.”

She shrugs and looks away, brows furrowed. “I should have walked farther down the path, I guess.”

“How much money do you need to get your mom’s car out of the shop?” I ask, apparently wanting to cut right to the chase.

Color blooms across her neck. “No, Ethan.” She steps back. “No. We aren’t doing this, okay? You and I are—”

“What? What are we? I’ve tried to talk to you about it all day and you’ve blown me off.”

“We’re having sex.”

“Obviously.”

“And we care for each other.”

She’s doing a good job talking in circles, but I like to be a little more direct.

“We’re in a relationship,” I say definitively.

Her eyes widen.

“What? Do you expect me to say I’m fine with no strings? I’m not that guy, and I’d rather you not pretend that’s what you want.”

Her smile is squashed down as best as possible.

She wants to be in a relationship with me, even if she’s not quite ready to admit it.

She turns away and shakes her head. “It’s a terrible idea. I need this job, and I need the guys on the crew to respect me. I don’t want them talking about us like that.”

“I’ll fire anyone who so much as whispers about us.”

She glances back with a smirk before rolling her eyes. “Very heroic of you, but it’s human nature to be curious. They’ll all talk and soon you’ll have no crew left at all.”

I shrug. “So I’ll build the resort myself.”

Her laugh is tinged with annoyance. “Can’t you be serious? This isn’t a joke to me.”

I walk toward her, grip her hips, and turn her around so I can bring her right up against me. We’re a perfect fit.

“Tell me what you need then.”

“No favors.”

“Define a favor,” I say, tone laced with desire.

She groans. “Ethan.”

“Fine. No favors.”

“That means I get paid the same amount, on the same day as everyone else. No more talk about money. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want that to be a part of our relationship.”

Her attention is on my chest as if she doesn’t quite have the courage to meet my eyes. She obviously still feels guilty about the incident in the bar.

“Fair enough. Next.”

“I don’t want the crew to know we’re dating.”

I drag in a deep breath, trying to cool my urge to argue with her. That’s going to be a problem, but for now, I’m willing to concede that point if she thinks it’s for the best.

“Fine. Anything else?”