Mountain Boss: Mountain Men Series Book One
Mountain Boss: Chapter 27

Face washed and toilet flusher fixed, I bundle my shirt in the hand towel I dried my face with and hold it at my side.

Looking around the bathroom, I try to see if anything else is out of place.

The powder room is larger than the one I have in the Laundry Cabin, but it’s still just a toilet and a sink. So, apparently, I will be sharing the public showers with our guests.

As I’m wondering how many women come to Black Mountain Lodge, my eyes stop on the window.

The open window.

I tip my head back and clamp my teeth down on the urge to scream.

But I can’t scream now because the flipping window is open, and if someone was outside, they’d hear me.

I set down my bundle and reach up to close the window.

The other reason I can’t scream now is because if I did, there’s a strong possibility it would turn into a sob.

Pulling the window down, I go up onto my toes to look out the glass.

No one is out there. Just trees. And an empty path.

I stare at the path. Was it empty the whole time? Or did someone witness my meltdown?

I drop my weight back onto my heels.

What’s done is done.

Plus, if Mr. Black heard me, he’d probably have come back into the cabin and scolded me.

Gathering the shirt and towel again, I wonder if that’s actually true.

He felt different today. Not exactly different nice like he was in those first few moments we met. But nicer. And he lingered like he wanted to say more.

But what he did say…

Lunch.

He didn’t sound hesitant exactly about telling me, but there was something there.

Maybe he felt bad about not telling me yesterday?

I think about how hungry I was most of the day and kind of hope he does feel bad.

Yesterday sucked.

At least this morning, after I peeled myself off that damn board, I made two packets of cinnamon raisin oatmeal and added a big spoonful of peanut butter. It was good. And it meant I didn’t start my day hungry.

I bite down on my lip.

I hated asking if the lunch was included, but I needed to know.

If, at the end of the week, my paycheck was going to be less, I’d need to know by how much before I agreed.

I could live off what I have in my cupboard for a while.

But not today.

The idea of eating with all my coworkers—whom I haven’t met—does stress me out. But I’ll stay focused on the fact that I’m about to have some free food.

And free food is always delicious.

Voices filter out through the propped-open front door of the Food Hall.

I’m a little later than I meant to be. But when I got back to the Laundry Cabin, I still felt the toilet water on me, so I stripped everything off and threw it—and the hand towel I used—into one of the washers. Testing out my cabin’s namesake for the first time.

Then I used a washcloth to scrub my face and body.

Then I put on different clothes.

But since the day is half over, I put on my outfit from yesterday—since no one but Mr. Black saw me in it anyway.

So by the time I did all that and re-braided my hair, it was quarter after noon.

And now here I am.

Late.

I force myself to keep walking to the open door.

“Suck it up, Buttercup,” I whisper to myself.

Were you talking to the toilet?

The question would’ve been funny if my answer wasn’t so depressing.

I thought I caught myself well though.

And it wasn’t a lie. I have worked alone for a long time.

But I’ve also been alone for a long time. Thankfully I didn’t finish that sentence.

A loud laugh makes me jolt.

I’m not working alone anymore.

Hoping for the best, bracing for the worst, I step into the Food Hall.