Page 7 of Boss and Brat

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

“Blue Star Diner.”

“I’m starving,” Ethan muttered, turning toward the little room.

Carter followed him, and the closer he got, the worse it looked. Clothes piled in a corner. A cracked mirror leaning against the wall. A duffel bag, half-unzipped with shirts spilling out. The whole place shouted “temporary,” as if Ethan hadn’t let himself settle in because he didn’t want to admit he was stuck here.

“Do you have a bathroom with a shower in here?” Carter asked.

“It’s at the back of the barn,” Ethan said, lacing his boots.

Carter walked over to check it out. The bathroom was newly installed—shower stall, toilet, sink—but everything else looked thrown together. Old towels with holes. A bar of soap worn down to a sliver. A single light bulb flickered when he stepped inside.

It looked like Mr. Evans had planned this long before Ethan failed out of college. Like he’d been waiting for an excuse. Carter didn’t like that. Not one bit. He stepped back into the main barn, where Ethan was waiting, arms crossed, chin lifted as if he were daring Carter to judge him.

Carter saw a kid who’d been shoved into a corner and told to figure it out alone. But he wasn’t really a kid. He was twenty-one years old.

“Let’s go,” Carter said.

They walked out to the motorcycle. Carter handed him the extra helmet he had taken from the cabin.

Ethan stared at it. “Seriously?”

“Put it on,” Carter said. “I’m not scraping you off the road.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Carter put on the other helmet.

Carter started the engine, the motorcycle rumbling under them as they pulled away from the barn. Ethan slid his hands onto the back of Carter’s jacket carefully at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to hold on. When the bike picked up speed, Ethan’s grip tightened. Something that made Carter glance at him in the mirror.

They rode in silence, the wind whipping past them and the road stretching out in long, dusty lines. The ranch faded behind them, giving way to open fields and the distant shimmer of town. Ethan stayed close, his chest pressed lightly to Carter’s back, his grip settling into something that felt almost… trusting. Carter didn’t know what to do with that.

The closer they got to town, the more Ethan straightened, loosening his hold as if he didn’t want to be caught needing anyone. Carter felt the shift immediately as if Ethan were putting his armor back on before they even stopped.

Blue Star Diner sat at the edge of town, all blue chrome and enormous windows that caught the morning sun. Carter pulled into the lot and parked the bike. Ethan slid off behind him, stretching as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in days, trying to look casual, even though his eyes darted around, taking everything in.

Carter held the door open. Ethan walked through as if he wasn’t sure he deserved to. And that, more than anything, told Carter that this breakfast was going to matter. Inside, the place smelled like bacon, coffee, and fresh cinnamon sweets—comforting in a way Carter would never admit out loud. They took a booth near the window. Ethan slumped onto his side, arms crossed, eyes flicking around as if he were checking for exits.

Andrew came over to the table with a friendly smile, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “I’m Andrew,” he said. “Co-owner of theBlue Star. Good to see a new face around here.” He nodded at Ethan, who didn’t bother responding.

Carter offered his hand. “Carter Higgins. New boss over at Willow Creek Ranch.”

Andrew’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah, I heard Mr. Evans hired someone.”

“Mr. Evans wants to retire.”

“Good for him. What can I get you two today?” Andrew asked, pulling out his notepad.

Before Ethan could open his mouth to complain or ask for something ridiculous, Carter said, “Two breakfast specials and coffees.”

Andrew jotted it down and headed for the kitchen.

Ethan didn’t thank him. Didn’t even look at him. Just stared out the window like the world outside was easier to deal with than the one sitting across from him. Carter didn’t take it personally. He figured silence was the kid’s armor.

“Give me your phone,” Carter instructed Ethan.

“What for?”

“So you can call me.”