107. Courtney
Chapter 107
Courtney
The pinch on my fingertip jerks my attention away from the Food Hall ahead of me.
Forcing my hands to relax, I take a breath and keep my steps steady.
I got through a shower and back to my cabin before the guests started to arrive. Then I took a nap after eating some soup, resting like Sterling ordered me to do.
But now it’s dinnertime.
If it’s the same as last time, the employees will mostly eat together tonight. But I’m not worried about seeing my coworkers.
Just my boss.
And not worried exactly. I’m excited to see Sterling. Just not excited to talk to him.
Voices sound behind me, more people heading this way for dinner, but none of them sound like Sterling, so I keep my gaze forward as I open the door and enter the Food Hall.
The room is crowded and loud with chatter.
I think it’s two groups at the same time again, based on the way the tables are filling. And like I’d hoped, the farthest table is just Black Mountain employees .
It only takes a second to spot Sterling.
His back is to me as he stands at the counter, talking to Cook.
His shoulders are stretching the limit of his green and gray flannel.
My eyes lower.
His butt looks amazing in those jeans.
I want to?—
Someone bumps my shoulder. “Sorry, Court.” Simpson shakes his head with a laugh as he steps up beside me. “I’m too hungry to see straight.”
I smile at the man. “I’ll forgive it.”
He nods. “Good of you.” A pair of strangers moves past us into the short line to get food. “You feeling better? Heard you were under the weather.” The genuine concern in his voice reminds me he has daughters and that he’s said I remind him of them.
I give him a real smile. “I do feel better, thank you.”
For a second, I wonder if he knows about all the new stuff in my cabin, but I don’t think so.
“Glad to hear it.” He claps his hands together. “Let’s eat.”
“Go ahead.” I wave him forward. “I have to show Mr., uh, Sterling something first.”
There’s a laugh behind me, and we both turn to see Glen. “I’m gonna call you Miss Courtney until you remember to just call him by his name.”
“Call who by his name?” The deep voice comes from my side.
I don’t need to look up to see who it is.
But I look up anyway.
Dark eyes connect with mine.
“Talking about you, Boss,” Glen replies for me.
Sterling lifts a brow.
I shoot a fake glare at Glen for tattling. But he did give me the perfect opening.
I shift to face Sterling. “I was just saying that I needed a moment to show you something before dinner.”
Sterling lifts his plate. “Eat first while it’s hot. Then you can show me.”
I roll my lips together, wanting to argue, but I know there’s no good argument for me here.
Also, the sight of his BBQ meatloaf and garlic potatoes has my stomach grumbling with hunger.
“Get your dinner, Court.” His tone is gentle. And I can tell, just from how he says it, that he wants to call me something else.
But he can’t.
Because no one here can know what’s going on between us.
Nodding rather than replying, I get in line with Glen and Simpson.
Before long, we have plates piled with steaming food, and as a trio, we walk over to the employee table .
Leon and Fisher were already seated across from each other. Simpson climbs into the free spot between Leon and Sterling. And Glen moves to sit directly across from Sterling, leaving the only open spot between Glen and Fisher, over one and across from Sterling.
Cook rarely leaves his spot at the counter when guests are here, so the six of us fit perfectly, albeit a bit snugly, at one table.
“You feelin’ better, Court?” Leon asks, mouth full of meatloaf.
I have my fork raised, the first bite of potato inches from my lips.
“Already asked her that.” Simpson leans forward so he can see Leon around Sterling.
Sterling, who is also slightly leaned forward, focused on his food, doesn’t lean out of the way.
I shove the potato into my mouth to stop from smiling.
I don’t know why him being a bit of a dick seems funny to me now. But I guess sucking on someone’s private parts can change your perspective.
Then I remember all the things Sterling bought for me today, and my partial smile is suddenly too heavy to hold up.
Even if he didn’t purchase all those things. Even if he had the table and chairs and mini fridge and microwave on the property, he still brought them to me. And he had to have gone to the store for all that food and medicine.
I didn’t want him to do that.
Didn’t want him to feel obligated .
Don’t want him to treat me differently from the other employees when it comes to employee business. And where I live and the stuff I own is employee business.
What we do off the clock is another thing altogether.
Which is why I need to talk to him.
But, like he said, might as well eat while it’s hot.
I use the edge of my fork to cut off a chunk of meatloaf.
My taste buds rejoice at the juicy seasoned beef, and I wonder how a meal can be so bad in one instance and so good in another.
I take another bite as I remember the frozen meals I’d had with Mom growing up.
The RV we lived in was small. Cramped.
There was a platform bed at the back. The space underneath was supposed to be for storage, but she wedged a futon mattress under there and that was my bed.
It was fun when I was little. My own mini cave to hide in.
And some nights, if I was scared from a storm or if Mom was in a funk , she’d put her head at the foot of the bed so it was above mine and hold her hand down.
We’d twine our fingers together and she’d tell me stories.
Of a future she had planned.
Of a magical world with sparkling creatures.
Of nothing at all.
And it was perfect.
On those nights.
But other nights, while we took turns using the microwave before sharing the small booth-style table, she’d mutter about how expensive it was to feed two people. How crowded the RV was. How she had no privacy.
Like I had a choice in being hungry. Or being fucking born.
I remember comments she made just like that over a frozen meatloaf meal.
I was fourteen.
I got my first job the next day.
It was probably illegal. But I got paid in cash and was able to buy my own food .
And that’s what I did.
For the next sixteen years.
No one has bought me food but myself since then. Not like that. Not groceries.
Not until Sterling.