Page 2 of Camping with the Boss

“Are you going to work like that?”

He doesn’t face me as he doctors his coffee. But his back straightens. “It’s a retreat. No one’s wearing suits.”

“Right, but…” Guilt slams into me again. I don’t know anything about this work retreat other than it’s a week-long retreat. Has he talked about the details? Not that I remember. But it’s not as if I asked. “Are things getting better with Mr. Darian?”

“My bosshole?”

“Is there another one I don’t know about?”

He laughs. “Funny, Can.” He turns and leans against the kitchen counters—baby blue because that was Mom’s favorite color. And Dad gave her anything she wanted. “You might be getting your sense of humor back.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Everything’s fine. I’ve got it handled.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”

“Nothing has changed, Can,” he says with a snort. “The guy’s still an asshole. Why does he have to be a dick to everyone? We get it. ‘You’re the boss.’” He uses half an air quote because he’s not letting go of his coffee. “The word at the office is the board’s forcing him to do this retreat. Team building or some such shit. Honestly? I’d rather be hit in the head with a Tarik Skubal fastball.”

“That would kill you.”

“Exactly. Kill me now.” He groans. “Five days, Can.”

“You can’t quit?—”

“I fucking know, okay?” He slams his cup down, sloshing coffee on the counter. “Stop mothering me.” He storms away, and I hear the door to his room slam shut.

That went well.

I need a different job. One that pays more. But the thought of starting over—I can’t do it.

I’m stuck. No. That implies there’s no movement at all. I’m moving. It’s just backward. While the rest of the world moves forward.

One good internal scream, Canyon. That’s all you get. Then the pity party is over. Done. Do what you have to do.

The scream would have been more satisfying aloud, but it still helps. I pay the bills I can. I’ll figure this out. I have no choice. Another month or two of this, and we’ll be penniless. And we’ll lose our home.

I stand and stretch, clearing my mind of numbers, bills, and worries. Just keep going. It’ll work out. River will get overtime during the retreat. That will help.

I almost wish I didn’t have Mondays off. I need something to distract me.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Alex. No doubt in my mind. The school she works at is on a four-day schedule with Mondays off. And no one else ever visits. We live in an old farmhouse on the edge of town. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Boring, according to River. But who needs excitement? Not me.

Pulling the door open, I shoo Taffy out of the way. She loves to greet visitors with her special brand of charm.

There it is. The hiss.

Alex shakes her head. “I think River conditioned your cat to hate me.”

“Good morning, Alex.” I open the door wider to let her in while I keep Taffy from running out. She wants to escape in the worst way. I know the feeling. “And you’re not special. She hates everyone.”

“Everyone but you.”

“Eh, debatable. Sometimes I wake up and she’s right in my face like she’s contemplating the best way to get rid of me.”

Alex laughs, tucking her long brown hair behind her ear as she heads to the kitchen. Once she has her coffee, we sit at the table. She starts right in. “There’s a farmers’ market today in?—”

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