Page 35 of Mountain Boss

The only person who didn’t talk was Mr. Black.

“Court.” Leon, one of the older guys, gets my attention. “You any good at baking?”

“Leon,” our boss snaps.

“What?” Leon holds up his hands. “I ain’t asking cuz she’s a lady. I’m asking cuz no one here can make a pie to save their soul.”

I smile at his argument.

Leon looks back to me. “Can ya, Court? You good at pies?”

I press my lips together, keeping my eyes off Mr. Black, and nod.

A chorus of whoops fills the Food Hall.

“What’d’ya say, Sterling?” Cook asks from across the room. “Can our Court here use her time to bake the occasional pie?”

Sterling?

Who’s Sterling?

Mr. Black, my boss, stands from his spot at the other picnic table. “I don’t care.” He picks up his plate. “If Court agrees, you two can make fucking pies.”

“Civil tongue.” Fisher fake coughs.

A few guys snicker, butSterlingignores him. Just like he ignores the rest of us as he puts his plate in the dishwasher and strides out of the building.

My coworkers resume talking among themselves, but my brain is still stuck on the revelation that my Black-souled boss has a first name.

And, of course, it can’t be boring or bland. No. It has to beSterling.

It has to sound strong. Masculine.

It has to remind me of the way his stomach felt under my hands.

Remind me of the way his muscles flexed under my touch.

“Earth to Court?”

I blink out of my stupor and find Fisher grinning at me.

Mr. Black, a.k.a. Sterling, called Fisher a kid when he was doing introductions.

With his sandy-colored hair curling over his eyes and his long limbs that remind me of a growing teen, he is definitelythekidcompared to the rest of the crew. Though he can’t be much younger than I am.

“Sorry, did you ask me something?” I smile back at him.

His grin widens. “Cook’s food puts me to sleep too.”

“That’s a compliment,” Cook hollers from across the room.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t,” Fisher calls back. “Anyway…” He shakes his head and turns his attention back to me. “I gotta hit up the Storage Shed after this. Has anyone shown it to you yet?”

“Uh, no,” I tell him truthfully.

There’s another building out past my Laundry Cabin, and I assume that’s what he’s talking about. But Mr. Black certainly hasn’t mentioned it.

His hands-off approach has been… trying. But it’s better than him hovering. I don’t think I could handle him looking over my shoulder all day.

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