Mountain Boss: Mountain Men Series Book One
Mountain Boss: Chapter 56

The bark is rough, even through my shirt, as I lean against the tree.

This is my favorite part of the morning, watching Courtney enjoy her cup of coffee on the Food Hall patio.

Sure, out of context, it might seem creepy. But I’m an employer making sure my employee is doing her job. And her drinking a cup of coffee after making a pot for the crew is quality control.

I’m just supervising.

From a distance.

Today, she’s standing, her hip leaned against a picnic table.

Other days, she’ll sit on one of the benches facing the woods.

She doesn’t look as tired as she did those first few mornings. And now that I know what she was sleeping on, it makes sense.

And it makes me feel like shit all over again.

I tap my fingers against the side of my coffee mug.

I should go talk to her. Explain that the missing mattress was an accident.

It doesn’t have to get heated.

We can just talk.

I can behave myself.

As I’m debating the pros and cons of walking over there, Courtney straightens.

Her head is tipped up, looking at something in the rafters.

She sets her coffee down on the table, then turns in my direction.

Courtney takes a few quick steps, and I push off the tree. Getting caught lurking will not help my case.

But she’s not looking into the woods.

She’s looking at the ceiling duster she left propped against the wall of the Food Hall.

She grips the pole and holds it high as she moves between the picnic tables, looking up.

I watch her reach her arms up over her head, pointing the bristles at the peak of the rafters.

It’s not reaching.

She eyes the bench, and I take a silent step forward.

If she climbs on that, I’m gonna pluck her off it and lay her over my knee.

Courtney shifts her grip to the very end of the long pole.

Good girl.

She reaches up again.

The bristles brush against the ceiling, then Courtney swipes it violently against the wood.

I tilt my head.

Courtney flings the pole away from herself with a strangled cry.

She jumps back, eyes down, after dislodging what has to be a spider. Or some other bug.

She wipes her hands down her chest, moving backward, when she bumps into a bench.

Which shakes the table.

And sloshes coffee out of her mug.

“Shit sticks!” Her curse cuts through the woods.

I’m fighting a smile when she stomps inside the Food Hall, mug in hand. And my smile wins when she comes out a minute later, her mug replaced with a soup pot.

It looks awkward to carry, one hand on the long handle. One under the pot.

She’s holding it higher than seems necessary, and I can’t help but hope she spills that water all over her tight long-sleeved shirt.

I swear I saw her in a sweater on her walk over, but it’s off now, and I bet that fabric would cling if it got wet.

Courtney tries to slowly pour the water onto the coffee spill, but the handle twists in her grip, dumping out all the water at once.

It splashes everywhere.

Including across her shirt.

“Morning,” Cook says from beside me.

I jolt, and the coffee in my mug sloshes over the side and down my hand. “Shit.”

Cook chuckles. “Too much caffeine is bad for the heart, Sterling.”

I shift my mug to my other hand and shake the liquid off my fingers. “Fuck off.” I don’t say it with heat. And Cook just clicks his tongue before walking past me toward the Food Hall.