Page 85 of One Bossy Disaster

Once she’s done a few minutes of quick editing, or maybe posted the pics already, she heads back to where I’m cooking.

“Right on time. Dig in.”

I ladle out our dinner and pass her a bowl to go with the fruit.

She inhales it cautiously, but I can hear her stomach rumbling.

I think we’re both starved enough to eat a half-cooked porcupine right now. Chicken a la King might as well be food fit for an emperor.

I throw together my own bowl and then sit on the other side of the large log we’re using for a makeshift bench.

The more room between us, the better.

Even if this feels like a chasm.

In the fire’s light, her loose hair is art. Golden and slightly tangled from the salt water, looking so goddamn beautiful and tempting I want to rake my fingers through it.

“Brief me on tomorrow,” I say, partly to distract myself and partly because this silence can’t go on forever.

Plus, I need to know what we’re doing. The otter tracking is all her, and I expect she’ll have a few areas picked to comb from the air.

She snorts at me. “You’re definitely ex-military, aren’t you? Giving orders like a drill sergeant.”

“I asked a simple question.” I glance up. “Tell me how we plan to find these otters without a lesson in manners.”

Her sneakers dig into the sand as she stands, still chewing her food. The dancing light from the flames licks up her body. Another reminder that her bra is missing.

Fuck.

“What?” I clip, staring up at her.

“Why are you such an asshole?” she demands.

“For asking a question?”

“For how you phrased it.”

I fold my arms.

I’m only two bites in and my food is getting cold, but I don’t care. If she wants a fight, I’m game.

“Why are you such a mouthy damned contradiction?” I ask.

“I asked you first,” she throws back.

“Hardly an appropriate question for your boss and mentor.”

Her face tightens. “Yeah? Is that what you are? I didn’t know the prize money meant putting up with this attitude.”

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so grating in my life.

“Actually,” I tell her, my voice calmer than I feel, “you’re being paid an awful lot for an opportunity to waltz in and change my whole company’s charitable direction. You’re welcome.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow, seeing as the money isn’t designed for her at all and she won it fair and square. I’m also the one who agreed to this field test.

Still, I can’t fucking help it.

Destiny glowers.

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