Page 22 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

After breakfast, which Clark skipped, River, Miguel, and I went out to the tree that sat above the one area of the creek deepenough for a rope swing. River had been his usual wordless self over breakfast, while Miguel had been going a mile a minute about all the preparations he and Colt were making for the trail ride.

River seemed to be tuning out Miguel. That façade cracked the second Miguel began climbing the tree.

Now, Miguel was a real good-looking guy with a unique sense of style, and he could climb anything with the barest hint of a place to grip. He made his way up the tree in seconds and was out on the branch, untying the rope just a few moments later.

River was enthralled. I doubt he’d ever admit to it, but just about every thirty seconds, his eyes went to Miguel’s ass. Or the artfully messy hair piled on top of his head. Or his sun-kissed abs, once the T-shirt came off.

Sadly, this wasn’t a one-sided attraction.

Miguel was definitely interested. He seemed fascinated by River’s dark aesthetic and was eager to include him in everything. Asked him to hand him the rope, explained the kind of knot he was using, and told him about the one time I broke the rope.

“Do you want to be the first to test it out?” Miguel called down from the tree branch.

“Who, me?” River asked as though he didn’t understand what we were doing.

Oh my God. These boys were so cute.

“Sure. I’d like to test it out with somebody a little lighter before we have The Mountain give it the full test.”

“Don’t call me that,” I grumped.

Miguel ignored me, sending a worried glance to River. “Can you do the rope swing? Like, with your hip or whatever?”

“I can do anything.” River gripped his walking stick and bent over, untying his combat boots with a confident grin. “I just might do it with a limp.”

Was that… innuendo?Fuck me.

A few moments later, River was standing barefoot in his shorts, pale and beautiful, like some sort of fae prince. Miguel looked like he was about to fall out of that tree.

River tapped his stick, awkward. “Are we going to test this thing out or what?” he finally asked.

“Oh, right.”

Miguel shook his head as if to wake himself up and threw down the rope.

River grabbed it and then looked at me. “So … what am I supposed to do with this?”

I led him to the side of the creek, where it had a bit of a drop-off. “You grab the rope, hang on for dear life, and fling yourself off the side.” I took his stick from him. “Just make sure to let go before you start swinging back.”

“Got it,” he said, grabbing the rope and taking off at a loping run.

Dammit. Shoulda known he was gonna show off.

Thankfully, River had a good grip, and Miguel had done his job of tying the rope. But River seemed to have forgotten a pretty important detail.

He started swinging back to us, and his eyes went wide.

“Let go!” Miguel shouted.

River startled and let go of the rope, crashing down into the water. Normally, a kid’ll give some sort of whoop or something, but River was silent.

Miguel jumped from the branch into the water. He got his arms around River and hauled him to the bank.

“You okay, dude?” he asked, his wet hair stuck to his neck and chest.

River blinked a few times, then looked into Miguel’s eyes, his eyelashes spiky with water. “That was a lot of fun,” he said, leaning into Miguel’s hold.

Laying it on a little thick there, buddy.