Coldhearted Boss(79)

I’ve calmed down a lot since this afternoon, but apparently, Taylor’s even more worked up.

“Seems like you’ve got something on your mind,” I say, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

I should have. It pisses her off.

She slams another drawer. “Yup.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Her eyes narrow on me. “Not really.”

Then she turns and locks herself in the bathroom while she showers.

I know I need to wipe the arrogant smirk off my face by the time she’s done. She’s upset, and I should be too, but I can’t seem to fake the feeling. Taylor riles me up. This feisty side of her is just as compelling as the sweet, soft version she’s shown me in recent weeks.

When that bathroom door opens again, I’m reading on the bottom bunk. I let the book fall on my chest and take her in: dark hair framing her alluring features as she walks over to the desk and grabs a bottle of lotion. Camille or Isla must have left it here, but she’s using it now, moisturizing one leg and then the other. I watch her, mesmerized—imagining those long legs wrapped around my waist.

Last night, at this time, I was kissing my way down her body. Now, she won’t even look at me. It’s fine. I enjoy a challenge.

“Would you mind turning the lamp off when you’re done? I’m going to bed early.”

She shoots daggers at me over her shoulder.

Then, as quickly as she can, she yanks that lantern toward her and turns it off. We’re plunged into darkness.

It was slightly premature on her part considering she hasn’t finished getting ready for bed. That only makes her angrier—the fact that she has to tote that lantern with her into the bathroom so she can brush her teeth. When she walks back out, she slams it onto the desk, turns it off, and then walks toward the bunk, stubbing her toe in the process.

She curses under her breath and I ask if she’s all right.

“Fine,” she bites out.

She’s about to pass me by to climb up the ladder, but I reach for her wrist and tug her closer.

“Sure you don’t want to talk about today?”

“Positive.”

“All right. Then, good night,” I say, sitting up so my face is almost level with hers in the shallow darkness.

I want a goodnight kiss and she knows it, but even that small gesture is a concession on her part. She leans down quickly and kisses my cheek. I grin and keep my hand on her wrist as she tries to pull it away.

“Taylor.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” she warns.

Ah, I’m learning so much about her. When she angry, she’s even more stubborn than usual. She didn’t have a good day and maybe she feels like I had something to do with that, or maybe she just wants to use me as a punching bag. Either way, I’m happy to push my luck.

I reach up to curve my other hand behind her neck, up under her hair. She shivers as I tug her down toward me and press a kiss to her lips. It’s a kiss that says, You can be mad at me all you want, but we’re still in this together.

She sighs and I release her so she can scale the ladder quickly and burrow under her covers.

Neither one of us goes to sleep easily.

The thunder picks up, and eventually, the rain starts.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I hear rustling in the cabin. I blink my eyes open and there’s Taylor, making a pallet for herself on the ground.

“What are you doing?” I ask, sleep evident in my voice.

“There’s a leak in the roof and water was dripping on my head. My pillow’s soaked.”

“I can’t fix it tonight,” I say, still half-asleep and not thinking straight.

“I didn’t ask you to fix it. I put a bucket up there for now. It’s a slow enough leak that it should be fine until morning.”

Right.

She growls as she tries to get her blanket to lie flat.

I dig at my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to wake myself up. Then I wrestle the sheet off me.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the ground. Take my bunk. I’ll go sleep somewhere else—”

A tree branch crashes against the windowpane. I’d be an idiot to leave this cabin right now.

“Or maybe I’ll just take the floor.”

“It’s fine,” she says, dropping down onto her thin palette and tugging her sheet up to her neck. It’s adorable, the idea that she thinks I’ll let her get away with sleeping there.

I lean down and haul her up off the ground, sheet and all.

“Ethan!” she protests, flinging her arms around my neck like she’s scared I’ll drop her.

I set her on the bottom bunk, push her toward the wall, and slide right in after her.

The bed feels tiny when I’m alone. With her, it’s microscopic. The only way we’ll both fit is if I gather her against me and envelop her in my arms, so I do. I feel better than I have all day.

Her head is nestled under my chin and her cheek is pressed against my chest. I can feel her eyelashes flutter against my skin. She’s not closing her eyes and going to sleep like I want her to.

“Taylor?” I ask, one final time. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

My heart’s breaking. Earlier today on the porch, I was worried I couldn’t continue with the way things are between us, especially having to keep our relationship a secret. Now, having her in my arms, I realize I’m willing to do just about anything to keep her. Even if that means shutting up and acting like she doesn’t exist during the day. Even if that means pretending she doesn’t mean the fucking world to me when other people are around.