Page 34 of Boss and Brat

He turned around and said, “You too, Boss Carter.”

Ethan walked back to the spare room, mug still warm in his hands. The kid looked smaller in the doorway, but steadier too.

When the door clicked shut, Carter stayed in the kitchen a moment longer, jaw tight, hands braced on the counter. He wasn’t letting anything happen to that kid. Not tonight. Not ever.

Chapter Fourteen

Ethan twisted and turned in the spare bed, soft sheets but unfamiliar. Better than the cot by a mile, but his mind wouldn’t shut up. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those two guys at the barn door. Saw Carter stepping between them as if it were nothing. His father would lose his mind if he knew Ethan was sleeping under Carter’s roof, but his father wasn’t the one who chased off trouble tonight.

The thought hit him hard: Carter had been the only solid thing in this whole mess. A damn knight in the middle of a nightmare. His hands trembled at the idea, stupid and embarrassing, but real.

He reached for his cigarettes, slipped out of the room, and padded down the hall. The cabin creaked under his feet, but Carter didn’t stir. Outside, the porch boards were cold under his bare soles. He lit up, smoke curling into the dark, and tried to figure out how much he should tell Carter. How much he could tell him.

Carter wasn’t gay. Ethan was sure of that. And even if he were, Carter was his boss. That was it. Nothing more. So why did it feel like something kept pulling him toward the man?

He shoved the thought away and pulled out his phone. Tomás answered on the first ring.

“Stay the fuck out of my business,” Ethan snapped, voice louder than he meant. The words shot out before he remembered Carter was inside.

“Not in it, loser,” Tomás said.

“I know where you work and stay.”

“Oh, big threat. You gonna tell your daddy?”

“This isn’t about him. It’s about you and me. Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you.”

The line went dead. When Ethan tried to call back, he was blocked.

“That little fucker,” he muttered, pacing the porch.

The front door swung open.

Carter stood there with the rifle in hand, jaw tight, eyes burning hot enough to pin Ethan in place. Not yelling. Not wild. Just that controlled fury that made Ethan’s throat tighten like he couldn’t swallow right. Carter’s shoulders were squared, muscles coiled, ready to take on whoever had pushed Ethan this far.

“Get inside,” Carter said.

Ethan stubbed out the cigarette and followed him in. Carter didn’t lower the rifle until the door clicked shut.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ethan said, voice small.

“Who were you talking to?” Carter asked, eyes locked on him. Ethan had never seen him look that angry—not at him, but around him, like the entire world had crossed a line.

“A friend.”

Carter’s stare sharpened. “No. That wasn’t a friend. You were shouting and threatening.”

“Just some guy I know.”

Carter’s jaw flexed. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. Get into that bed and don’t come out again.”

Ethan nodded, throat tight. He backed down the hall, feeling Carter’s anger like heat on his skin, not aimed at him, but at whatever danger kept circling him.

He slipped into the spare room and shut the door, heart pounding. For the first time all night, he felt safer. And that scared him more than anything.

***

The alarms blasted through the cabin like a fire drill, loud enough to rattle the walls. Ethan shot upright, heart slamming against his ribs. For a second, he didn’t know where he was. Then the door flew open.