Mountain Boss: Mountain Men Series Book One
Mountain Boss: Chapter 30

I turn and watch Courtney retreat down the path, folded up step stool bumping against the side of her leg as she goes.

I don’t know what the hell Fisher could have said to put that look in her eyes.

That fucking tear on her cheek.

I start to follow her. Ready to…

What?

The whole reason I came over here was to break up whatever chat-fest she was having with Fisher. And now, well, now they aren’t chatting anymore.

But…

I turn back around and head in the direction Fisher went.

Anger and jealousy and other emotions I’m not used to dealing with twist up my insides.

The idea of those two flirting was making me fucking lose it.

But that fake-ass smile. And that fucking tear…

I open and close my fists as I follow the small trail that goes up behind my house.

I can’t deal with people crying.

I don’t know how.

Blame it on being raised by an overworked single mom. Or the fact that my brothers handle their emotions about as well as I do. But I never learned the skill.

All I know is I’m going to peel Fisher’s skin off if he was mean to her.

Passing my back deck, I glance over at my hot tub.

I bet Courtney would like the hot tub.

My steps slow.

Maybe I can offer it up for her use.

It wouldn’t be pervy; the guys know they can use it whenever they want. They just don’t take me up on it much.

And I don’t feel a bone-deep urge to join them in the bubbling water.

Turning away from my deck with images of Courtney in a swimsuit, dripping wet, I face the view.

It’s hard to tell from the front of the house, but the land dips back here. And the forest splits around a small lake. Sparkling water below, mountain tops above… it’s the reason I built where I did. When this was just my home, not Black Mountain Lodge.

I bet Courtney would like this view too.

I roll out my shoulders and continue down the path.

Focus.

I catch up to Fisher a moment after he reaches the shoreline.

A long bench sits near the water, and it opens to reveal a dozen or so fishing rods. As our resident fishing guide, this is Fisher’s territory, and he keeps them maintained and organized.

I’ve never had the patience for the sport, but this kid could—and does—do it every day.

But if he deliberately made my Courtney cry, he’ll have a hard fucking time threading lures with broken fingers.

He spots me, straightening from his position, rod in hand.

“Hey.” He fiddles with the reel for a second before looking back up at me. “What’s up?”

That’s the question, isn’t it?

But… what if he doesn’t know about Courtney being upset? If I ask him why she was crying, I could out her over something she was trying to hide.

But I need to know what was said between them.

I need to understand why she was crying.

Isn’t that what you wanted?

I ignore my inner voice.

Yes, I want Courtney out of my employ. But I don’t want her fucking crying.

I can’t take her crying.

“What were you and Court talking about?” My tone is angrier than I intended.

And I didn’t mean to blurt my question out like that. But I’m obviously a fucking mess.

Fisher’s face scrunches. “Huh?”

“I just bumped into her.” I strive to sound casual. “She looked… in a hurry.”

Fisher’s confused expression clears, and he chuckles. “She was probably sick of listening to my life story.”

That’s not it.

There’s more.

“Hmm.” I slide my hands into my pockets. “She didn’t say anything about where she was going?”

Fisher shakes his head. “She’d just asked if it was okay to take that step stool. I told her it was fine. And she asked about payday, but I told her it was at the end of the month, so it’s not like she was hurrying off to get her check.” He snorts at what he must assume was a joke, but I don’t see the humor.

And I don’t say more as I turn away from Fisher.

Was she crying about payday?

That shouldn’t have been a surprise. It’s in the contract.

It should be in the contract.

And even if it wasn’t, monthly pay is perfectly within my rights as a business owner.

If she doesn’t like it, she can leave.

I lift a hand and rub it over my chest.

It’s been two days. Two damn days, and already I can feel my resolve wavering.

Which is all the more reason to get Courtney out of here.

If she’s here for the full three months…

I won’t make it.

There’s no way I’ll keep my hands off my curvy little worker that long. So, tears or no tears, I need to continue keeping my distance.