Mountain Boss: Mountain Men Series Book One
Mountain Boss: Chapter 39

As soon as my lunch got charged to the company card, I was mortified.

It was my private meal. My little joy for the day. And as much as I’ve reminded myself that I’m not ashamed of it, that it’s okay to eat a big lunch, I knew I’d be embarrassed handing over the evidence to him.

I was hoping I could just leave it on his porch, attached to the clipboard.

But instead, I get to do it standing face-to-face. After throwing what’s left of my cookie against his solid chest.

I clear my throat.

“I have the receipt for the gas too.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out two pieces of paper. One for gas, the other for the groceries.

Sterling takes them without a word, flattening the receipts on top of the first.

“They didn’t have the chocolate muffins.” I don’t meet his eyes. “But they had a lemon version that looked good, so I got that. And the red apples looked a little weird, so I got the green ones instead.” I press my fingertips together on my free hand. His continued silence is making my stress worse. “They were two dollars more. But they should last longer. And they’re good for baking. But I can pay for the difference.”

“I don’t care.”

I force my gaze up to meet his. “I just⁠—”

“Cookie, I don’t care.”

My mouth snaps shut.

Cookie.

I lower my eyes.

He called me Cookie.

I try to look down to see if I have crumbs on my shirt. If that’s why he called me that. But insecurity flares bright behind my eyes, making it hard to see.

Maybe he meant it in a cute way. I try to convince myself.

But Sterling Black doesn’t say cute things.

He’s never been hurtful.

Not…

I press my free hand against my not-flat stomach.

Not until now.

Now, when he saw the receipt for what I ate.

Now, when he commented on it.

I bite my lip. Hard.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

I want to leave.

I dig my nail into my thumb pad, knowing that my situation hasn’t changed.

I’m still stuck here.

And even half starving, I’m still as not thin as I’ve always been.

The urge to throw the rest of my cookie away hits me right in the sternum.

And that makes anger swell within my sadness.

Cookies shouldn’t go in the trash.

Only men.

“You guys need help unloading?” one of my coworkers calls out.

I think the voice might belong to Cook, but it sounds like more than one set of footsteps approaching.

Sterling turns away from me, and I use the opportunity to flee.

“I’ll be right back,” I practically whisper as I dart past him. “Bathroom.”

I don’t look back as I hurry down the path to my cabin.