Page 53 of Mountain Boss

Something thuds against my chest as Courtney spins around.

Reflex has me catching the item. And even if I couldn’t smell the dessert, I’ve had enough of these to know what it is.

“Sorry,” Courtney gasps, then averts her gaze as she reaches out and plucks the cookie from my hand. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I try to reassure her, but I still sound just as angry. Whichmakesme angry because I’m not trying to be an asshole right now.

“Um, here.” Courtney holds the drink to her chest with her forearm so she can hold the cookie with that same hand. Then she reaches into her pocket.

I hold out my palm, expecting the card back, but instead she puts a folded receipt and a few bills into my hand.

I start to unfold the paper.

“I-I didn’t realize it was going to charge the card when I ordered, but it’s all there.” Her voice is strained, but when I look up, she’s not meeting my eyes.

With the receipt unfurled, I read the items.

Hot dog, slice of pepperoni pizza, frozen mocha, chocolate chip cookie.

The ten-dollar bill and three single dollars are wrinkled and warm.

I know money is filthy, but I want to press the bills against my cheek since her body warmed them.

But I don’t.

Courtney’s cheeks are red when she starts speaking again.

Chapter 39

Courtney

As soon asmy 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 tohim.

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.

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