Page 47 of Mountain Boss

Have to press my lips together.

Have to force myself to breathe.

I wanted to make her leave.

But not like this.

Not like this.

Swallowing down the emotion that threatens to choke me, I bend over the bunk and claw her clothes back into place.

I need to know what it was like.

When I have her clothes back in a thin layer—the way I found it—I climb onto the bunk and lie down.

The clothes do nothing.

This feels exactly like lying on a sheet of plywood.

She must fucking hate me.

I fucking hate me.

I stay where I am, looking at the ceiling, forcing myself to experience this.

Courtney spent three nights sleeping like this, and my body is starting to protest after five minutes.

How she managed to work… and work hard, without a single complaint…

I don’t know how she did it.

Because she had no choice.

I may not know her circumstance, but I know no one would put up with this, and me, unless they had to. Unless they were desperate.

I think about the projects she’s already completed. Specifically theones in the guest cabins. Each one fully stocked, each bunk covered in a mattress. And she still didn’t say anything.

She didn’t sneak one into her cabin.

Didn’t ask if she could use one.

Courtney didn’t say a fucking word.

I roll to my side, groaning because I’m lyingon a fucking board, and swing my legs down.

The edge of the plywood catches my shirt.

If that was on my bare skin, it would have left a mark.

I glare at the bunk.

Then I turn and stomp out of the cabin.

I’m storming across the driveway when I spot Cook between the trees, walking from the Bunk House to the Food Hall.

I freeze.

Cook keeps walking.

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