“I’m going to feel stupid if Mr. Bowen asks me to stay,” I muttered to Davis as I packed the containers in behind the seat.
“Would you stay if he does?”
“Hell, yeah. I think.” Ninety-nine percent of me was hoping for the offer. One small percent wondered what I could do on my own, without help.
Davis nodded. “He’s not a man to change his mind, but I’ve suggested he give you a chance when I’ve talked to him.”
“Thanks, dude.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see me choke back my gratitude. Support from a man like Davis meant a whole lot.
“You could’ve waited to pack,” he suggested.
“Nah. If he says I’m gone, I want some daylight to drive those roads.” That was an excuse. Packing after Mr. Bowen threw me out, knowing everyone was looking on with pity, would kill me. I’d get it over with while I could still keep a poker face.
“Makes sense.” Davis stepped aside as Seth came up behind him.
Seth shoved a pillow at me. “Here. In case you end up sleeping in the truck or some fleabag motel.”
I didn’t hold the pillow to my face to see if it smelled like him, though I wanted to. “Thanks.” I tucked the pillow between my now-bulging backpack and the back of the seat, and closed the door.
My poker face was nothing compared to Seth’s. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
We all turned at the sound of an approaching engine. A monster of a dark SUV came rumbling up the drive toward us. Mr. Bowen waved as he drove past, opened the garage door, and steered inside. Instead of heading into the house, he came out and walked our way.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Getting ready to head out, sir,” I told him.
“Unless you think the ranch has room for one more man,” Davis noted.
“Ah.” Mr. Bowen shifted his gaze from Davis to Seth to me. “I suppose you’d all better come inside, then. This way.”
Mr. Bowen led us through the garage, stopping to open the back of the SUV. I grabbed his suitcase to carry inside. He nodded my way and took his smaller bag. A tray inside the doorappeared to be the place to leave our muddy, snowy boots, and we followed on in sock feet, the hallway tiles cold under my toes.
“Leave it there,” Mr. Bowen told me, pointing to his suitcase and the foot of the stairs, “and come on in my study.”
When we reached the study, Mr. Bowen walked around his desk, set his carry-on on the floor, and sat down. He looked tired, and I said, “Sir, we really don’t have to do this now, if you’d like to unwind first.”
Mr. Bowen raised an eyebrow over one weary eye. “But you’re waiting impatiently to hear what I have to say, right?”
I glanced at Seth. “I guess. Yessir.”
“Right. So.” He folded his hands on the desk. “I ran the numbers again yesterday. I’m sorry, Austin, we’re working on a razor-thin margin, and I just don’t need another winter hand.”
I’d known that was coming, but it still felt like a gut-punch. I hoped my flinch didn’t show.Fuck. What now?
Mr. Bowen continued, “I credited you with eighty hours worked this week, for all the extra time you put in with the storm and all. That gives you over a thousand net, even after I take out basic taxes.”
A hard swallow didn’t dislodge the lump in my throat. I managed, “Thank you, sir,” through numb lips. A thousand dollars was a lot more money than I showed up with, but it wouldn’t last long.
“I’ll add a hundred-dollar bonus for saving Ebony. Seth told me you were the one who caught on to her milk fever first.”
“I don’t need a bonus for doing my job,” I told him.
“Nevertheless, I’m grateful.” Mr. Bowen pulled his laptop close and opened the lid. “Do you have a bank account? PayPal?”
“No, sir. Not anymore.” No bank account, no home, no job, no Seth. The emptiness inside me made my knees shake but I gritted my teeth and stood tall. “I will, when I get settled.”When. If.
“I’ll give you your salary in cash. That way you don’t have to worry about cashing a check. You’ll sign a receipt.” Mr. Bowen tapped his way through some forms, then the printer on a stand hummed to life. “Here.” He fetched the pages and set them on the polished surface of the desk in front of me, tapping one with a thick forefinger. “Your pay stub with all the deductions. I had to take out Social Security and such. A receipt for the cash.” He handed me the second page. “Don’t sign that till I pay you.”
