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“And his spunk,” I pointed out.
He laughed, nodding. “And his spunk.”
I let a beat of silence pass between us, letting the levity of the moment fall away. “But you weren’t scared of failing?”
He thought about this for a long while. “I guess I was more scared of not trying.”
“And what if you had failed?”
“Then I would have tried again.”
I huffed in frustration. He made it sound so easy. It was like every inspiration poster out there: if at first you don’t succeed… Except there had to be a point where you gave up, didn’t there?
Boone rolled to his side and propped himself on his elbow so that he could look down at me. “Do these questions have anything to do with your dad?”
I was impressed at how easily he could read me. “Maybe,” I muttered.
“You want to tell me about it?”
I lifted my shoulder. “It’s not that different from what you went through. My dad cut me off for not conforming to the plan he had for me. He raised me to be the big man on campus, the most popular kid in class, the one who hosts all the parties and schmoozes all the wealthiest players. But being a socialite doesn’t actually leave much time for studying and getting good grades in those business classes he insisted I take… so I didn’t. I was the most popular kid in every group I joined, just like he wanted. I was the center of every circle, picked first for golf foursomes at my dad’s country club, and recruited to the best fraternity. I got internships with high-profile companies in the city despite my lackluster grades because I was Dick Dunning’s son, presumptive heir to the family business and the young man they’d all heard about.”
I hesitated, knowing how spoiled and whiney I sounded and hating it. These were such first-world problems, and I was embarrassed to be sharing them out loud. I was about to tell him never mind when he said, “Go on.”
I glanced at him. There was nothing judgmental in his expression or tone of voice. He looked genuinely interested in what I’d been saying. I blew out a breath and continued.
“So… now I know how to waltz, sink a putt, sail a catamaran, tie a bow tie. I know how to mix the perfect martini and convince almost anyone to listen to my father talk about the latest development project he needs investors for. I even know the difference between accounts receivable and payable, what a property-level financial model is, and how triple net leases work. And honestly, I don’t care about any of it. Every day I spent in that office, I felt l like I was dying inside.” I clamped my lips shut against the sting of tears burning the back of my throat.
“So you left?” Boone asked gently.
I nodded. I didn’t admit that just the morning before, I’d planned on returning home and begging my father to take me back.
Lying on my back under Boone’s gaze made me feel too vulnerable. I pushed myself up until I was sitting. The sleeping bag fell around my waist, and the cold night air struck my skin. It was bracing and invigorating.
“I wanted to prove to my father that I could be my own man,” I told him. “That I didn’t need him or his money. That he could still be proud of me, even if I wasn’t joining the family business.”
He sat up next to me. He didn’t touch me, but he was close enough that I felt the heat radiating off his skin.
“I’m sure he’s proud of you.” He said it so sincerely that I almost loved him in that moment.
I shook my head. He didn’t know my father.
He reached out a hand, tentatively cupping my cheek and turning me to face him. “Well, I’m proud of you, for what it’s worth.”
And just like that, I did fall a little bit in love with him. Which fucking terrified me.
“What do you want?” Boone’s voice was soft as a whisper.
His question could have referred to anything: what I wanted in life, what I wanted from him, what I wanted between us, what I wanted the future to look like.
You, I thought. I want you.
But it was too much. Too fast. Boone didn’t even know me—not the real me. I wasn’t even sure I knew the real me.
So instead, I said, “I want a big sexy cowboy to fuck me again under the stars.”
And he did.
The next morning, I might as well have been riding a My Little Pony for as many hearts and sparkles as there were floating in my aura on the ride back to the ranch house. The seed of a crush on my boss had taken a jacked-up hit of growth hormones and was now an aggressive, suffocating vine with a stranglehold around my heart.
