Page 17 of Boss and Brat

“You’ll be with me,” Carter said. “Especially since you’re not allowed off the ranch without my permission. Got it?”

“I don’t like it. I’m twenty-one.”

“Too bad,” Carter said. “Work’s seven to five. Dinner’s at six. You’ll shower, then we’ll eat here.”

Ethan let out a long, frustrated breath. Carter ignored it.

“What about the pay?” Ethan asked.

“You’ll earn three hundred a week. Two-thirds go to repayment. The rest is yours.”

Ethan scoffed. “I went to college to get a hundred a week?”

“It’s called the consequences of poor choices.”

Carter didn’t say it to be cruel. He said it because the kid needed someone who wouldn’t flinch when he pushed back.Someone who wouldn’t fold. Someone who’d stay steady even when Ethan wasn’t.

And Carter intended to be exactly that. “Are we done now?” Ethan asked, sounding impatient, as if he were already halfway out of here in his mind.

Carter shook his head. “No. Since I’ve got the day off, I’m gonna write a list for you to shop for our groceries.” Ethan’s expression shifted—hope, suspicion, annoyance, all tangled together. “Your father gave me enough money to cover your food and whatever else we need. Question is… can you be trusted with that job?”

Ethan straightened a little, trying to look confident. “Yes, Boss Carter. But—”

“No buts,” Carter cut him off. “Drive my truck. Go now. I’ll message you the list.”

He handed over the keys and a folded stack of cash. Ethan stared at the money as if it might bite him.

“Truck’s over there,” Carter added, pointing to the old Ford parked under the shade of a gigantic oak. The morning sun glinted off the windshield, and dust from the ranch road shimmered in the air.

“Okay,” Ethan said, though he sounded more unsure than he wanted to admit.

Ethan walked away—long strides, shoulders tense, as if he were trying to outrun something. The kid climbed into the truck, slammed the door harder than necessary, and peeled out, kicking up a cloud of dust that rolled across the yard.

Carter sighed. He’d expected that. Hell, he’d been that age once too—full of heat, pride, and the need to prove something to someone who wasn’t even watching.

He sent the grocery list to Ethan’s phone and hoped the kid wouldn’t get distracted, lost, or pissed off enough to ditch the whole errand. With Ethan, any of those were possible.

Inside the cabin, the quiet settled around him again. He stood in the kitchen for a moment, staring at the empty counter, imagining Ethan wandering through a grocery store with no idea what he was doing. The thought made his stomach tighten—not anger, just worry he didn’t want to name.

Carter sank onto the couch, letting the cushions dip under his weight. The quiet of the cabin settled around him—soft, steady, the kind of quiet he usually liked. But today it felt thin, stretched, like something was waiting to snap.

He’d barely leaned back when his phone buzzed.

Mr. Evans. Of course.

Carter answered. “Yeah?”

“Did you talk to Ethan?” Mr. Evans asked, voice clipped and already irritated.

“Yes.”

“Then why did I just see him driving your truck?”

Carter rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I gave him a job.”

A beat. “What job?”

“Grocery shopping.”