Page 20 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

Not the first time someone had compared me to The Mountain.

“Again, apologies. We don’t normally let the guests wander the property before business hours.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all.

“Besides, I figured you for the type to sleep in.”

He ruffled his dark hair; the set of his shoulders stiff. “Yeah, me too. But I slept for shit last night and the Wi-Fi in our cabin sucks.”

“Oh no. Atragedy,” I said, leaning into the snark. “Whatever will you do without access to social media?”

He managed to look offended. “I don’tdosocial media. I run a Twitch stream. I could’ve been playing online with my friends.”

Sounded like social media to me, but what did I know?

“I don’t know what any of that means, but I’ll have one of our guys get out and check the Wi-Fi router at your place.”

He curled his lip. “I’ve already restarted it. Twice.”

Poor little prince. I bet Daddy’s condo in Chicago never has Wi-Fi problems.

Instead of that uncaffeinated and ungenerous sentiment, I went with a gentle reminder. “Our Wi-Fi isn’t the best, but we dotry to encourage our guests to disconnect and enjoy the natural beauty of the area.”

River gestured to the darkness around us with his stick. “Which I’m happy to do in the daylight.”

Dramatic.

Honestly, I kinda liked that he was giving me lip. He’d been through a lot but still managed to find his spleen.

“I’ll see if we can find someone to take a look.”

“Thanks,” he said, running the tip of his stick through the dirt.

Rather than agitate him further, I figured I should encourage his curiosity.

“Do you want to check on the horses with me?” I asked, swinging the keychain around my finger.

He shrugged, still looking at the ground, acting like he didn’t care either way. “Sure. Why not?”

I unlocked the barn door and led us inside, where the safety lights provided enough illumination for walking around. Betty was up early, so I went to her first. River followed.

“Hi, Betty,” he said, leaning on his stick as he carefully held out his hand.

She sniffed at his palm.

“Tickles,” he murmured.

I went to our stash of apples. Pulling my folding knife from my front pocket, I cut one into quarters.

“Here,” I said, giving him a slice. “Put it flat on your palm and offer it to her.”

Taking the piece of apple, he did just as I instructed, holding it out to her on a flat palm. She took the apple carefully from him and crunched it with her big teeth. His smile widened.

“She’s so gentle,” he noted.

“She’s a good one, Ms. Betty is. A little sassy, but never mean.”

“Like me,” he said, then seemed surprised that he had made a joke.