Mountain Boss: Mountain Men Series Book One
Mountain Boss: Chapter 7

Relief crashes into me so hard I nearly collapse.

I’m staying.

I suck in a breath.

I get to stay.

Pressing the tip of my thumb into the tip of my pointer finger at my side, I school my features.

I’m a professional.

“Thank you.” I heave out the words. “You won’t regret this.”

Mr. Black grunts, indicating that he already does.

“Can you show me to the Bunk House?” I prompt when he continues to stare at me.

His intense glare makes me want to look away, but if I do that, I know my eyes will drop to his exposed chest, so I hold his gaze.

“I already told you. You’re not staying in the Bunk House.” He turns away from me. “You’ll be staying over here. Alone.”

With that ominous statement, Mr. Black starts walking.

I press my lips together to keep from saying something under my breath and hurry to follow.

Our footsteps are out of sync, sounding loud in the quiet, and it reminds me of those two men I saw earlier.

I have no idea where they went, but I suspect they didn’t go far.

Jogging a few steps, I catch up to my boss’s long stride, then keep pace behind him.

He’s heading for the big cabin, the one I watched him exit when I first pulled up.

He wouldn’t…

No. There’s no way he’ll try to make me stay in there. With him.

Right?

I mean, maybe there are extra rooms in that house, but he came out half dressed. He has to live there.

Maybe there’s a Mrs. Black in there too?

And he said he had a Bunk House for his employees.

There’s no way he would have me sleep in his home rather than the employee building.

Before I can spiral further, he turns away from where those other men were walking, off the other side of the driveway.

I’m gonna need a damn map of this place.

I watch my step as we go, avoiding the occasional tree root that sticks up through the packed dirt.

“This is you.” Mr. Black gestures as he comes to a stop.

I lift my eyes from the ground and replace that we’re stopped in front of a cute little cabin.

It’s the same mahogany brown as the other buildings I’ve seen. Same rectangular windows with the trim painted a forest green.

The front door is the same shade of green, making the yellow word stenciled across the top stand out.

Laundry

Mr. Black climbs the three steps in one large stride and closes his hand around the doorknob.

I make a mental note that there are no railings along the steps.

I do not want to face-plant off the edge when I come out tomorrow morning.

The door creaks when my boss opens it, and he reaches inside the cabin a second before the interior lights flicker on.

“There’s no lock.” He turns back to face me. “But the bears have a hard time opening the round doorknobs, so you should be fine.”

I stare at him.

Bears.

Like Yogi, Smokey, Care?

He takes the stairs one at a time as he descends them, his attention focused on my face.

Is he fucking with me?

I mean, I know bears are real. But they wouldn’t try to open doors… Would they?

I decide that saying nothing is the best option.

He stops in front of me. “Work starts at seven.”

Then, without so much as a welcome or a goodbye, he leaves.

So nice to meet you, I mouth to myself as I valiantly resist the urge to watch his ass as he walks away. Because he might have a good-looking ass, but he is a good-looking ass. And we don’t ogle assholes.

Human assholes.

People who are assholes.

I press my fingertips together.

Get your shit together, Courtney.

Chastising myself only half works because now I’m thinking about assholes and how I’ve never really seen one in person. Because it’s not like I can look at my own. And even though I’m not a virgin, I’ve never seen the buttholes of the guys I’ve been with…

The sound of a door slamming snaps my attention over to the main house.

There are some trees and bushes between here and there, but the view is mostly unobstructed.

And even though the man is unpleasant, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him close.

Not because of his looks. Because I need someone within hearing distance if I end up screaming for my life.

“No bears, please,” I mumble.

Then I look up through the still-open door of the Laundry Cabin, a.k.a. my new home, and focus on the positives.

I have a job.

I have a place to stay.

I have some eye candy for the next three months, even if his flavor is sour.

And—I inhale deeply—I’m surrounded by the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen.

Not all bad, indeed.

The listing for this job was only for three months, a temp position, starting tomorrow—October first to December thirty-first.

I was hoping to dazzle my new boss with my work ethic and abilities in an effort to get those three months extended. But now I’m thinking I need to utilize my downtime to replace a new position for the new year. Which sounds all fine and good on paper, but if this year has taught me anything, it’s that it’s not easy—or quick—to replace a job that also includes room and board.

Sighing, I turn around and head for my Jeep.

Maybe if I keep my spending to the absolute minimum and save every freaking dollar I make working here at Black Bossy Lodge, I could have enough for a deposit on an apartment by January first. Then I’d just need to replace a regular job and not one that includes a living space. And for once in my life, I’d have some separation between work and sleep.

I open the passenger door and pull my backpack off the floor, slipping my arms through the straps. Then I move to the rear of the Jeep, where I sling another bag over my shoulder before I lug my large suitcase out, setting it wheel-side down on the gravel drive.

Last, I tuck a small box into the crook of my arm and accept that’s enough for the first trip.

For a moment I debate whether I should park closer to the Laundry Cabin rather than in the driveway. But Mr. Black didn’t tell me to move my Jeep, and parking on the lawn might piss him off more.

Opting to leave it where it is, I slam the rear door shut and grab the suitcase handle with my free hand.

My luggage bumps over the gravel until I turn off the drive and onto the dirt walking path.

It’s only been five, maybe ten minutes since I did this walk with Mr. Hot and Cold, but I can already tell it’s darker out, the day slipping past sunset and into dusk.

And I can’t help but think about bears.