Page 13 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

I held up my hands. “I can take you into town with me, if you want.”

Clark’s shoulders relaxed. “Honestly, that would be awesome. I’m so tired of driving, and I don’t want to spend half the time being lost.”

“Chance is a super simple town to get around in. Way simpler than Chicago.”

“You underestimate my ability to get lost,” he said with a crooked smile I wanted to trace with my thumb.

That self-deprecating humor was catnip.Everythingabout him was catnip.

Jake chuckled, and I scratched the back of my neck with my middle finger.

I put on my best smile. “Lemme just clean up, and I’ll drive you into Chance to find some shoes that don’t have shit on them. Meet at the main house in thirty minutes?”

He beamed up at me. “Thanks, Beau. You’re a lifesaver.”

I watched him walk away, biting back a laugh as he tried to run the bottom of his shoe against the ground.

Jake, of course, could not leave well enough alone. “You’re a lifesaver, Beau.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, it’s cute. You’re having your first date at The Mercantile.”

Could he not just be quietly grumpy, like he was with everyone else?

“Did I do something in a past life to piss you off?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, we were assigned people to torture, and you’re mine.”

“Lucky me.”

I sent Jake a quick wave over my head and walked out of the barn.

“And you don’t thinkthese are too short?” Clark asked, walking out of the makeshift dressing room.

The Mercantile had gotten a new, if limited, shipment of summer clothes, and, in a completely self-serving move, I pointed out the seven-inch shorts.

Understand, I wanted to point out the five-inch shorts, but no way would this prim and proper man go for those.

“They’reshorts. It’s in the name,” I said, quite reasonably. “I can’t speak for the ladies, but if you don’t mind the opinion of a gay guy…”

“Please.”

“They look good on you.”

Really, really good.

“You’re sure?”

So good, I wanna lick your calves and gnaw on your ass.

“One hundred percent.”

From behind the counter, Margot gave me alook. In typical Gen X fashion, she was usually good at staying out of people’sbusiness—an important quality in a small-town store that sold, well, everything. That didn’t mean she lacked for opinions.

Once Clark had purchased one of everything in his size, we walked out onto Old Main, and I pointed out some of the town’s charms.

“I was thinking about grabbing a Blizzard before heading back,” I said, pointing out the Dairy Queen. It had been there for forever, one of the original Dairy Queen buildings.