Page 84 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

Because that was the kind of man he was.

It was the kind of man his son was becoming.

“So…” I couldn’t believe I was going to say this out loud. “You really wanna give this a try?”

Clark’s thoughtful look morphed into a smile. Bright. Happy. Mischievous.

“I already told River that if he and I lived in Denver instead of Chicago, I would’ve already started figuring out how to make this work out with you. To see if it could go somewhere. And … maybe it won’t. Maybe we’ll get to Fort Collins, and you and I will start seeing each other, and you’ll hate me.”

I made a sound, like a goose honking or something.

“Impossible,” I said, my voice unexpectedly warbly. I’d never meant anything more in my life.

“Don’t act like it’s not possible to get bored with me, Beau. I wear khakis, like,everyday.”

The concerned way he warned me about his khakis broke something inside me. I started laughing, even as the tears spilled. “I’m sorry. I’m really… It’s not funny.”

Clark somehow brightened even further. Despite the noisy machines keeping track of his heartbeat and breathing. Despite the antiseptic smell of this room. Despite the thread-worn hospital gown and the cast on his arm, he looked like a kid at Christmas.

“Itisfunny,” he said, as I continued to swing between crying and laughing. “My son’s been nagging me about my khakis foryears.”

That made me laugh harder. And cry harder. Fuck.

Oh my God. Was this really happening? Could we…?

Tears overtook the laughing, and I stood there, staring. Terrified that he was gonna claw it all back.

Clark just looked at me. Watched me process my emotions. And quietly held up the sheet on his bed. An invitation. To somethingreal.

I crawled under the sheet with him, careful, so as not to jostle his broken arm. I kissed his nose and his cheeks. His forehead. His lips.

“I would love the opportunity to peel your khakis off your body,” I whispered, looking into the eyes I hoped to wake up to for the rest of my life.

“Oh, God.” River was standing in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick as he held a fountain soda, looking bereft. “I should’ve knocked.”

Oops.

Miguel, bringing up the rear, bumped into River, causing him to spill the drink in his hand. Suddenly, everything felt like sketch comedy. I laughed. Clark laughed. Miguel, who didn’t know why he was laughing, laughed. Even River got going by the end of it.

Clark grabbed his head. “Oh my God, it hurts to laugh, but I don’t care.”

“You okay?” River asked, bringing his dad what was left of his soda.

I was still lying next to Clark, but no one seemed bothered by it.

“Yes, son. I’m more than okay. We’ve got a lot to figure out: selling my condo, setting up a different kind of management structure for the folks in Chicago, maybe come up with a timeline.” Clark tapped his lips, his brain whirring and clicking behind his eyes. “Definitely going to need a spreadsheet.”

“Wait.” River stepped back, bumping into Miguel. Shocked. “You’re coming to Colorado, too?”

“Yeah. You heard Beau. He’d love to see me out of my khakis.”

“Oh my God, Dad. You can’t…”

River delicately touched his painted fingertips to his chest and fake dry heaved. Clark snorted.

“Yeah … I can’t allow this,” River insisted, even as a slow grin curved his lips.

Clark kept the bit going. “I’ve got adult money, son. I can move wherever I want to. And I’m guessing that a condo in Chicago equals basically a mansion in Fort Collins. Or Snow Creek.”