Page 5 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

“You told them about the accident?”

Clark glanced at me like he wished I wasn’t here to witness this exchange. “The form asked if you had any major injuries in the last year, and I couldn’t lie, Riv.”

“PT cleared me for the stupid horses, Dad. That’s all they needed to know.” River scowled. “Besides, getting on a horse isn’t a bad idea because of my hip. It’s a bad idea because I’m not a cowboy.”

He gestured to me as if my Wranglers made the point for him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to at least try?” Clark leaned forward. “You know, if you want, we can push this off another day. We’re here for two weeks.”

Another acid-stripping glare from River. “I’mfine. Let’s get your queer son on the horse and see if that makes a man out of him.”

“River!”

Clark shot me another sidelong glance, and I waved him off. Instead of giving River more of a chance to build up a head of steam, I undid the button on my right cuff.

“Hey, kid. You’re gay, right?” I asked, rolling up the sleeve.

That stopped both of them in their tracks.

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Good. I get why you might think a place like this is meant for the straights.” My sleeve gave way to the pinup on my arm, two cowboys kissing.

“But, when your dad paid for this immensely expensive vacation, he had to sign a document stating that he understood this was a queer-run, queer-friendly ranch, and that homophobia and bigotry of any kind was grounds for cancellation and immediate dismissal without a refund,” I said, using the legal jargon I’d memorized. “Just in case you thought he was trying to … I dunno. Butch you up.”

River’s mouth dropped open, but he promptly closed it. He looked to his dad, who nodded.

“Then why are we here?” River asked, frustration and, just guessing here, sadness leaking out of his words. “Like, you keep trying to fix me, and maybe I can’t fucking be fixed.”

Clark stepped back as if those words had hit him like a series of bullets to his chest. I was surprised the man was still breathing.

“Riv,no.” Clark’s eyes reddened as his voice wavered. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I’m trying to fixus.”

River took this in with a slight quiver in his jaw.

“Son, I promise, I didn’t tell them about the accident. I just told them about your injuries in case we needed to make modifications.”

I stilled, my sleeve still rolled up, not sure how to proceed.

“What kind of modifications?” River asked. It sounded like he wanted to know how many of his organs we planned on harvesting.

They both looked to me, and I held up my hands. “I brought a mounting block in case you need it.”

“A what now?” Clark asked, his brows arched.

River bit back a laugh.

Do. Not. Make. A. Mounting. Joke.

I took a moment to find my professionalism and answered, “It’s just ablockyou can step on so that you don’t have tomountthe horse from the ground.” I pointed to the mounting blocks I’d dragged over the night before. “It’s also really helpful if you’re a shorter person, or if the horse is especially tall.”

River snorted, then wrapped his arm around his dad’s shoulders, as if to highlight the fact that he was a couple of inches taller. “So, if my dad’s too short to get on a horse, he’ll hafta use one of those blocks?”

“Hey!” Clark went beet-red as he snuck another glance in my direction. “I’m notthatshort.”

“You’re not short at all.” I thought about it. “To be clear, we don’t make fun of short people at the Snow Creek Ranch,” I said, if only to prevent Jake from kicking my ass.

“Whatever.” River straightened his shoulders. “I’m tall enough,andmy hip only hurts like that when I stand or sit funny. I’mfine.”