Coldhearted Boss(78)

Of course she feels bad for him, a man who doesn’t deserve an ounce of her pity. She doesn’t know what he said to me after lunch, while we were surveying the cabin sites for phase two of construction. If she knew what Grant had called her…if she knew he asked me to pass her along to him when I was finished…

“Believe me, he doesn’t deserve your pity.”

She rocks back on her heels and looks away. “God, this has been a horrible morning.”

“Because of Grant?”

“Yes, and…” She shakes her head and sighs, long and heavy. “I found out the crew knows about us.”

I arch a brow. Is that such a terrible thing?

“Max sort of guessed it this morning, and I didn’t want to lie.”

“Good. I’d rather they know.”

Her gaze flies back to me. “Of course, because you never cared if they knew. It’s me who has to walk around this jobsite with everyone wondering why I’m here. I already seemed out of place before. Now it’s obvious I’m only here to amuse you, just like Grant said. It’s like I’m a groupie or a whor—”

“Don’t say it!”

My booming voice catches her off guard and she steps back.

I’m still angry that Grant used that word to describe her, and I don’t want to hear it again, much less from her own lips.

Unfortunately, it seems like we’re both stewing about more than just Grant. She’s upset the crew knows about us. I’m stressed about making all the right decisions where she’s concerned. This relationship has been on par with walking a tight rope from the very beginning.

She wants our relationship to be a secret, so I’ve done it.

She wants me to mind my own business and let her sort out her life herself, so I have.

She expects me to listen to her talk to her family and not help even though I’d barely have to lift a finger to solve her problems. It’s tearing me up inside. They’re working so hard to get that damn car out of the shop and I know it’s a hulking piece of shit.

I want to provide for her and protect her and cherish her, and she wants none of it.

I stand up and stomp down the stairs, knowing we won’t get anywhere right now. I still need to cool off.

“Take the afternoon off.”

“No. There’s work to do.”

I shoot a glare at her. “Taylor, don’t test me right now. I beg you, for once, listen to what I tell you.”

She scowls. “I’ll work here, cleaning the cabin. I’ll stay out of your hair.”

“Fine.”





Taylor listens. Barely. She doesn’t come into the trailer again, but she doesn’t stay in the cabin either. When I walk back to camp after sending off Brad and Steven, I see her talking to Robert and the guys, rushing off to do their bidding. At various points in the day, I see her with a tape measure in hand, two coffees, a stack of blueprints, a level, and Hudson’s laptop. She’s running around being everything to everyone. She’s more eager than ever to be useful, which I suppose is her way of ensuring everyone knows she’s here for the right reasons.

I wish she’d trust that I have her best interests at heart. She thinks so little of this crew—expects them to act just like Grant—when in fact, none of them give two shits what she and I are doing in our personal life. Who cares if Max knows? If Hudson knows? They’ll get over it.

But I’ve said my piece and I won’t push her on it.

At dinner time, I walk into the mess hall and she’s sitting with her friends, but her food goes untouched on her plate.

She spots me right away because her gaze was already pinned to the door. I know she was waiting for me, and I wonder if that seat beside her is empty because she wants me to sit in it. In the end, it doesn’t matter because Hudson steals it before I can make a move.

Taylor’s expression deflates, but I’m not sure why. Isn’t this for the best? She wants us to fly under the radar, so that’s what we’ll do.

After we finish eating, I stay outside and chat with Robert and a few of the other guys. I’m having a pretty good time, right up until I watch Taylor walk out with Max.

Her gaze is aimed on the ground as he leans in to talk to her. What the fuck is so important he has to whisper it to her? He looks desperate for her to hear him out. His hands clasp together and I swear I see him say, “I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing for her to eat with her friends, but I’m not going to sit around watching her have an intimate conversation with Max. I push to stand. Taylor looks over, finds me, and I glance pointedly toward the path that leads to our cabin. The invitation is obvious and I don’t wait around to see if she accepts, tossing a farewell to the guys and setting off down the path. Taylor arrives fifteen minutes later, after I’ve showered, just as the first round of thunder sounds in the distance.

We’ve been lucky with rain so far on this project, and I hope it stays that way. I don’t want any delays.

I’m in the bathroom, brushing my teeth when she strolls in. I watch her in the reflection of the fogged mirror, aware of the tension she brought in with her. Maybe it’s just the storm brewing outside, or maybe we’re not done fighting. I spit and rinse my mouth then walk out to lean my shoulder against the post of the bunk bed. She’s opening and slamming drawers, grabbing an oversized t-shirt.