Coldhearted Boss - R.S. Grey Page 0,28

worth bothering with, which means no work. I have to read, and when reading proves a poor distraction from thoughts of Taylor, I change into workout clothes and go for a run, setting a punishing pace. I like the trails around the camp, though it was stupid to run this late. By the time I make it back, it’s pitch-black outside and I’ve nearly tripped over my feet ten times.

I’m dripping with sweat when I push the door open, and my eyes immediately rove to Taylor’s bunk.

Empty.

I stomp toward the bathroom and jerk the shower knob until icy water rains down on my head. It’s my second shower of the evening, my towel still wet from the last one. I scrub my hair and arms and legs and avoid the urge to touch myself anywhere that’s not perfectly necessary. I’ve closed my eyes and stroked myself, dreaming of her, all month. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction tonight, even if she’d never know about it.

When I step back out in my lounge pants and no shirt, Taylor still isn’t back.

I worry about her walking around out here in the middle of the night, but then I remind myself that she’s not mine to worry about.

I turn off the lantern and get in bed. I’m lying on my bunk with my eyes closed, willing sleep to take me, when the cabin door creaks open. She tiptoes in on light feet like she’s trying not to wake me. I listen as she carefully takes off her boots, a soft hiss escaping her lips. I’m not surprised—they’re too big on her, and I’m sure she has blisters by now.

I open my eyes as she starts to tiptoe past the bunk, grabs something from the dresser, and then disappears into the bathroom. She doesn’t turn a light on, but she runs the sink on a gentle stream. At first, I think she’s brushing her teeth, but then I realize she must be trying to wash off without having to turn the shower on.

It’s ridiculous, these lengths she’s willing to go to.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens silently and she tiptoes toward the ladder. I thought she was going to get her things and leave, but it turns out she’s staying. Interesting.

“What’s your name, man?” I ask suddenly.

She jumps out of her skin and knocks something off the dresser—my hat, probably. She replaces it then quickly scrambles up the ladder to her bunk.

“Oh…uh, Taylor.”

She speaks so softly I can barely hear her, and I wonder if she’s worried I’ll recognize her voice. As it is, I’m surprised she gave me an honest answer, though it’s probably because the name Taylor is pretty androgynous.

“Like Taylor Swift?” I ask, wanting to tease out a little more conversation.

“Or like Taylor Lautner,” she clarifies.

“Who?”

“The werewolf from Twilight,” she mumbles, followed by a low groan.

I’m smiling now, despite myself.

“You done much construction work in the past?”

There’s a long pause here, as if she’s working through a million thoughts in her head. Then finally, she replies softly. “No.”

“What made you start now?” I ask, no longer playing a game.

I want to know why she’s here. I want to know what possessed her to dress up like a guy and interview for a job in which she’ll be hauling lumber and slogging through mud in the sweltering heat and dealing with a hundred ill-mannered men.

“It seemed like a good opportunity.”

The way she says it is final, cut and dry. Then her sheets rustle and a few moments later, her breathing evens out and I know she’s fallen asleep.

Or, she’s pretending.

Chapter 10

Taylor

First thing yesterday morning—after finding out the suit was my roommate—I realized I had two options. One, I could quit and leave immediately, run as far away from this jobsite as possible and never look back. Two, I could find Jeremy and try to convince him that instead of sleeping here during the week, we should commute back and forth every day. That way, I’d still get to keep the job, but I wouldn’t have to room with him every night.

“It just makes sense,” I said while we walked toward the mess hall for breakfast. “You probably already miss Khloe, and I really need to check on McKenna. You know I don’t even get cell reception out in my cabin? Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, if we leave at 4:45 every morning, we should be able to get here before…”

My words trailed off as I realized he’d stopped listening.

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