Coldhearted Boss - R.S. Grey Page 0,14

hear that.”

She makes a motion like she’s zipping her lips then pretends to go back to reading.

“Not even close,” Jeremy says before he proceeds to eat three more bites of spaghetti, leaving me sitting there, impatiently waiting for him to continue.

Eventually, I yank the bowl out from in front of him and hold it far enough away that he’s forced to look up at me.

“Tell me.”

He chews slowly, swallows slowly, sits back slowly. I’m going to kill him.

“You remember when some big-time developer snatched up the old summer camp out that way, heading toward Louisiana?”

I nod. “Yeah. We all thought they were going to do something with it, but nothing’s happened.”

He leans forward, his green eyes aglow. “Well they are doing something with it. Apparently, they’re going to turn it into some fancy resort. Massive hotel, golf course, pools—the works.”

My heart drops. This isn’t the first time this town has gotten its hopes up like this. A few years back, Walmart was planning on building a distribution center out here. It never happened. Then a few oil companies wanted to set up some speculative drill sites. They promised Oak Dale and its residents would have so much money pouring in, we wouldn’t know what to do with it. That was right before the boom happened over in West Texas. I’ve learned my lesson.

“And when is this ‘fancy’ resort supposed to get built? Next year? Year after?”

He shakes his head, his toothy grin staying in place. “Tomorrow, Lockwood Construction is having a recruitment day over in the grocery store parking lot. Line’s supposed to be long so I’ll be getting there around 8 AM.”

I’m struck silent.

He leans forward, yanking his bowl of spaghetti out of my hand. “They’re paying $25 an hour, more if you can prove you’ve been around a construction site before.”

$25 an hour?! I can’t even imagine. To me, that’s movie star money. That’s tossing dollars in the air at a nightclub money.

“Why are they hiring people out here?”

He gives me an isn’t-it-obvious glare. “Think about it: it’s cheaper than carting in a boatload of guys from across the state. The subs will be their guys, of course, but they still need a crew—unskilled labor for the grunt work.”

I’m so jealous I can hardly breathe. Jeremy will be hired in an instant. He’s young and in shape from his work at the mill. He’s worked construction in the past and has a clean record. Getting paid $25 an hour, he’ll have Khloe’s ring in no time.

“I’m happy for you,” I say, impressed that I’m able to sound remotely sincere. Inside, I’m a bitter Betty. I rise from the table and take my untouched plate of spaghetti over to the counter to store it for later. I’ve lost my appetite.

“I want you to come with me and apply,” Jeremy says suddenly.

I laugh and glance at him over my shoulder. “You think they need maids on the construction site? Cleaning out porta-potties—now there’s every girl’s dream job.”

“I talked to my buddy and he said they’re desperate. They’ll take any and all help they can get. If you’re an able-bodied guy, you’ll get hired.”

I smirk. “I know you prefer not to notice seeing as we’re family and all, but I’m afraid I don’t fit that ‘guy’ requirement. I’ve had boobs since middle school.”

He screws his face up like it grosses him out to acknowledge my female body then he rises to his feet so he can retrieve the grocery bag he left by the door.

“Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?”

He unties the knot and dumps out the contents onto the floor. There’s a faded blue baseball hat, two old flannel work shirts, a pair of jeans, and tan work boots that have seen better days. In fact, I’m not sure they’ve got any days left in them.

“The shirts are mine. The boots and jeans I bought off a friend at work. He’s a lot smaller than me, so they should fit you okay.”

He can’t be serious.

I hold up one of the boots and tug at the rubber heel, which is no longer fully connected to the rest of the shoe. “I hope you didn’t pay much.”

He grunts in annoyance and yanks it out of my hand.

“Jeremy, it’s not the shoes or the clothes. It’s the idea. You think if I dress up like a guy they’ll be willing to hire me? Just like that?”

He glances at me, narrows one eye, and tilts his head as if imagining the possibility. “Well,

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