Page 19 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

Colt, our fishing and trail guide, wasn’t a fan of offices. Or the indoors, really. Which was why our planning meeting for this group’s trail ride was taking place on the banks of Snow Creek at five fucking a.m.

Excuse my French, I only had the one cup of coffee.

Thankfully, Jake and our youngest hand, Miguel, were there, suffering with me.

I really shouldn’t complain. After all, I was standing here with a fishing pole in hand, hanging out with people I genuinely enjoyed, planning one of my favorite events.

I loved going on the trail rides. Even though we always kept to more or less the same route, it was the people who made the ride, and they were always different.

The fact that Clark and River were going to be on this trail ride with us made it even more intriguing.

“Beau? Did you hear me?” Colt asked. Maybe not for the first time.

“Yeah. Uh…”

“I’ll be carrying one of the new satellite phones on this trip,” he repeated, raising his brow at me.

“Sorry. Got it. Satellite phone.” I blinked and yawned at the same time, which is more difficult than it sounds. “Maybe I’ll take some more of that coffee of yours.”

Like any trail guide worth his salt, Colt always had a thermos of coffee that could double as paint stripper.

“Sure, but first … who would be going over the footbridge this time of morning?”

I turned and saw a figure in black making his way over the bridge, the early morning fog swirling around him like a romance novel. The big family with all the children had arrived last night, but this wasn’t any of them. I recognized that uneven gait.

Shoving my pole into the bank, I elbowed Miguel. “Hey, I’m gonna check on that guy over there. Can you watch my rod?”

Miguel snickered, pulling his long, sun-bronzed hair into a messy ponytail. He had a laid-back style and a wicked sense of humor and had quickly become my right-hand guy in his year or so on the ranch.

“Myfishingrod, you perv.”

“Sure,” Miguel tossed back. He lifted his chin. “Who’s that?”

“Pretty sure that’s River,” Jake answered. “The depressed son of that CEO guy from Chicago Beau’s been mooning over.”

I sent a laser-beam glare to my good friend.

“You’re especially sassy this morning,” I hissed. “And ‘that CEO guy’ isClark.”

Jake winked. “Tell your new stepson we said hi,” he said, laughing at his own joke.

“Jackass.”

“You love me.”

I waved him off with my middle finger.

River made good time with his walking stick and was already crossing the main road to the barn by the time I jogged over. He hadn’t yet seen me in the pre-dawn darkness, so I watched for amoment, just to see what he would do. He reached for the door and jiggled it, then seemed disappointed that it was locked.

“Wanna hang out with the horses?” I asked.

River stumbled back, clutching his chest like I’d given him a heart attack. I probably could’ve done a better job of announcing myself.

“Jesus, Beau. You scared the shit out of me!” he snapped.

I held up my hands. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re like that guy who killed Pedro Pascal in Game of Thrones,” he complained, shaking out his arms. “They need to put a bell on you.”