Page 1 of The Boss

1

ETTA

I’ve always hated driving in the rain. Maybe because my mother drives like a maniac no matter the weather. Honestly, I’d prefer not to be driving in this at all, but my uncle David, who is also my boss, has insisted I do his dirty work.

The tires of my old car aren't gripping the road very well, so I slow down. This road is so little used that if I went into the ditch, it might be a day before someone found me.

The road turns into a side road, then becomes… I can't tell. Gravel road? Private driveway? Then I see the huge wooden gate. There it is: Bone River Ranch.

At first, I tried asking Clara, the owner of Beaty’s Bed and Breakfast, what happened out there. She said it's better not to ask questions like that.

Then at lunch I asked the waitress at the Silvergate Café what kind of ranches and farms were around here. She chatted openly enough until I asked about Bone River. Then she clammed up, shook her head, topped up my coffee, and left my table.

So now I have to follow my uncle’s orders and do things the hard way. This is a test to see if I have what it takes to work for him. A “trial by fire”, as he puts it.

Dad always said working for family makes life easier, but I stopped believing him after the nightmare that was working for my mother. I've been sending out resumes like crazy since calling it quits on that, but nobody's biting. Possibly because my only references are my family.

I barely let my foot touch the gas as I roll through the gate into the ranch. Thankfully, the rain has let up a bit. Hopefully they won't think I'm a trespasser and chase me away with a shotgun. Or set their dogs on me. Or…whatever other animal could be out here.

There's a cluster of big buildings that I’d guess form the center of the property. A large black pickup sits in front of a building with a wide front window that shows tables and chairs inside. I’m getting a dining room vibe.

That’s probably the most social place to begin.

Just as I'm about to open the door of my car, the rain begins pounding down as if being shot from a cannon in the clouds.

Then I jump when I see a figure in the dining room window. It's a man peering out at me.

I give him a friendly wave, then shrug with my hands held aloft to indicate I'm trapped. He holds up a finger, telling me to wait.

About two minutes later the rain lets up a bit. The man darts out the front door with a huge gray golf umbrella, then races over and helps me out of the car, shielding me from the worst of the deluge as we dash into the building.

He drops the umbrella into a bucket in the hallway, then shakes off his work boots. "You picked one hell of a day for a visit, little lady."

My God, that voice. So deep and rich. Blinking the rain from my eyes, I look up…and almost lose my footing. He grabs my elbow gently. "Careful, miss. The floor is slippery."

He's not wearing the hat, and doesn’t have the oversized belt buckle. But there's something about his snug black t-shirt and the way his jeans sculpt to his muscular thighs that scream “modern cowboy”. His thick forearms hold me so easily. The shock of dark hair and deep brown eyes make me feel like I'm endlessly falling.

Not to mention that rugged jawline, sexy scruff of beard, and massive six-foot-four frame. This man is a runway model, bear, and bodybuilder all rolled into one. Unfortunately, he’s regarding me with an expression that is only part friendly, and I’m not sure if that or the suspicious part will eventually win out.

"I'm so sorry," I gasp, rubbing my hands on my skirt before extending one. "I'm Etta Decker. From Decker Realty, in Willisworth?”

His eyebrows knit together, his jaw tightening. "We don't take kindly to real estate agents around here. They tend to stick their noses in our business, which is extremely private."

I nod, holding up my hands. "Nobody is asking to buy your land, don’t worry. I just have some questions about the land itself before my associate buys an adjoining plot, Mr.…?”

He looks me up and down, assessing if I'm a threat. Obviously, I'm not. I'm barely five foot four, too thick through the hips and thighs to be considered athletic, and my small hands with their bright purple nail polish pose zero danger to him as he towers over me.

He looks me dead in the eye, then barely nods. "You can call me Boss. And you can tell your ‘associate’ that they will not be buying any land around here."

"Just a few questions." I'm begging at this point. ”About any toxins in the soil, and⁠—"

"Look, you seem like a lovely young lady, and you're going to have to pardon my French, but please give them the only message we have for real estate people. Word for word." He smiles icily. "Fuck off. Fuck all the way off. Once you think you've fucked off as far as you possibly can, turn the corner and keep on fucking off some more."

He's so stone cold serious that my mouth falls open in shock.

Then I laugh, hard, until I’m shaking and doubled over, twitching from the fit of giggles. He laughs with me, his chuckle so rich that it feels like sound waves rolling through my bones. Then a thunderclap bursts directly overhead, shaking the very building.

I scream, my back flattening against the wall just before everything goes black.