Page 38 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

Then Stevie sat atop Shorty at the makeshift starting line. She’d been riding him all day, but I was sure he had nothing on her competition horse at home. Which was to say I was not at all prepared for what I saw when I blew the whistle.

She whipped around the barrels in seconds, then did it again, beating Miguel’s single circuit by two solid seconds.

Everyone, including River, cheered when she crossed the finish line. Clark hugged my side like his son had just won an Olympic gold medal. I pulled him close and held him for a few seconds too long.

Yep. I had it bad.

Chapter 11

Clark

Even though I spent the day on a yo-yo, it ended on such a high that I felt like I could see the horizon for the first time. When River announced that he and Miguel were going on a date, I handed over my car keys without question.

“I thought I’d have to fight you a little more for it,” he admitted with flushed cheeks.

“Do you want me to fight you about going on a date with a cute, sweet guy your age? I’m a little tired, but I could put forth the effort if you really need it.”

Oh, how I loved it when my son rolled his eyes at me. Like maybe I hadn’t fucked everything up.

Besides, I decided it was an affectionate eye roll.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m the dork who’s going to remind you I packed condoms and lube.” I sent him my biggest grin. “Which are currently in the bathroom under the sink.”

He stopped mid-step and rocked back. After shifting his jaw, he dipped into his bedroom. Seconds later, the bathroom door banged against the wall.

“Who’s the dork now?” I called out.

“Still you,” he called back, muffled as he dug under the bathroom sink.

He paused in the doorway of his room, giving me the once-over as he stuffed the supplies into the trench-like pockets of his oversized black jeans.

Words were on the tip of his tongue. Something about working with the horses all day gave me the foresight to not ask. To let the words come naturally.

Or something to that effect.

Scratching at a nonexistent mark on the doorframe, he began in fits and starts. “Um. So. Kinda, like …” Still not looking me in the eye, he finally said, “Like, thank you for … I dunno. Dragging me out here?”

He shrugged, and I rubbed my fingers over my lips to stop myself from blurting out something—anything—to get him to keep going.

“And I, you know. I’m …” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I never told you about Mom before. Or about the day. I just …”

I swear to God, this kid was going to be the death of me.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Instead, I took a loose stance, casually holding up my hands, so he didn’t feel like he had to manufacture an unnecessary excuse for my benefit.

“You didn’t know you could tell me. That’s on me.” I waited until his eyes finally met mine. “But now you know you can.”

He dipped his chin and … huh. Was that the beginning of a smile?

“Can I also say that, like, I feel … I dunno …happyfor the first time in a long time?” He tugged at his earlobe. “And that it scares me really bad?”

I would have paid the good folks of Snow Creek Ranch ten times what it cost just to have this conversation with my son.

“Yes, you can say that, and yes, a hint of happiness after a season of grief is a little terrifying.”