11. Clark
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 … happy for 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.”
He raised his brows. “Season of grief, Dad? Really?”
“I guess it was more like two seasons.” I counted my fingers. Winter, Spring, Summer… “Almost three if you really think about it.”
“Such a dork,” he whispered under his breath before closing the distance between us. He paused, then dragged me into a hug.
My heart swooped in my chest. I gripped him tight.
Who allowed this kid to get so much taller than me?
“The thing I saw from you today,” I said into his shoulder, “is that every time you dipped, you fought your way back up. You would go quiet but then would let yourself laugh.”
“Miguel was the one who made me laugh,” he admitted softly. “But not like … because he was uncomfortable with me being sad.”
I pulled back to look at him again. “No. He let you be sad and only made you laugh when you were already climbing out of it on your own.”
With what little that Beau had shared with me about Miguel’s childhood, I was amazed by the kind of man he was becoming.
“He’s only a year older than me,” River noted, confusion across his brow. “How do you think he learned how to do that?”
“Beau said that he didn’t have the best family. I’m guessing that means he learned it the hard way.” I tilted my head from side to side. “Probably because it was what he needed and never got.”
“Beau paid a lot of attention to you today,” River said, changing the subject.
Like a troublemaker.
“Not this again,” I moaned.
I mean … River wasn’t entirely wrong. But I didn’t want to think about what any of that meant.
“I’m just saying.”
I rolled my eyes and shooed him toward the front door.
“Just … be safe. Text me if you’re going to stay the night.”
“Dad?” River said, hand on his walking stick.
“Yes, son.”
His grin grew to shit-eating status. “I’m definitely staying the night.”
Ugh.
Who let him grow up?
I’m blaming my dead ex-wife.
“Good,” I said instead, trying for cool. “And obviously you can always call me if—”
“I know, Dad. I know,” he said, chuckling as he closed the door behind him.
Then, as I often did in these quiet moments, I spoke to Monica.
You really hurt him. But I know you loved him. I just wish you hadn’t caused so much damage on the way out. I wish you were here. I wish … I wish things could’ve been different.
She didn’t answer, which was probably for the best.
As I was deciding whether to get into my pajamas, my phone buzzed with a text.
I assumed it was River with some smart-ass remark.
Beau: Hey. Hope it’s OK that I’m texting you.
I scrolled up to the one other message in our text thread: the picture of River hugging Betty.
Me: How did you get my number?
Beau: From your file.
I tried not to grin like a fucking idiot.
As with so many things in my life, I failed.
Me: Stalker.
Beau: Nah. Just a fan.
Beau:
Me: Yeah, well. I *am* the world’s best father.
Beau: You really kind of are.
Me: Have you been drinking? Or smoking?
Beau: Nope.
Beau: I noticed that River picked up Miguel.
Me: They’re going on a date.
I sent that with a GIF.
Beau: WTF does hubba-hubba mean?
Me: You’re making me feel old.
Beau: You’re only 7 years older than me. That’s not even enough for an age-gap trope.
Me: Age-gap trope?
Beau: Not a romance reader, I see.
Me: No …
Beau: Um. Yeah. Me neither.
Beau: Nope. Not this boy.
Me: Beau?
Beau: Hm?
Me: Do you read romance novels?
Beau: …
Beau: Maybe.
Beau: Don’t tell anyone, tho. If Jake finds out, he’ll never let me live it down.
Me: Grumpy Jake?
Beau:
Beau: OMG. I’m going to call him that from now on.
Me: Don’t get me in trouble with Jake now.
Beau: I would never.
Me: What are you doing tonight?
Before he could answer, someone knocked on my cabin door. Worried that maybe River decided he couldn’t go through with the date, I pocketed my phone and opened the door.
“Hey.”
Beau stood there, freshly washed up and handsome in his nice Wranglers and sharp button-down.
“Hi.”
I stood there like a nerd for a solid five seconds longer than I should’ve, then opened the door. “Sorry. You look nice. Come in.”
Beau made his way past me and stood in the living room, much as he did last night. Only this time, he wasn’t the calming presence that had helped my son talk through his trauma. In fact, he seemed kinda nervous.
“Is something wrong? You look—”
I stopped talking because he’d grabbed my hand. I held on.
He licked his lips. “Look. Maybe I’m misreading things, but—”
“You’re not,” I said, talking over him.
His brows shot up, and I’m pretty sure mine did too.
What the fuck was I saying?
“I can’t believe I said that.”
He licked his lips again. “Do you wanna take it back?”
I shook my head.
“Because I really wanna kiss you.”
I inhaled sharply while nodding.
His hand went to my face, tilting it up. Our noses would be touching if he weren’t such a sequoia.
“Clark,” he breathed, then leaned in and touched his lips to mine.
A zing of something both new and familiar raced up my spine. I groaned and went up on my tiptoes, deepening the kiss, needing more than what he was giving me. He wrapped his arms around me, and I was instantly enveloped in his strength. His aftershave. The depth of those fucking kisses.
Before I could process the shift, we were walking backward, and my calves hit the overstuffed couch. My mind started panicking over logistics and what he wanted to do next. Before I could overthink it, though, he pushed me down until I was sprawled on the couch, panting for him.
“This okay?”
I nodded, and he lowered himself over me.
He touched his lips to mine again. Soft. Appropriate. All while slowly, slowly pressing his body to mine. My legs went around his waist, pulling him closer.
He cursed against my lips. “Fuuuck.”
“Not tonight,” I joked.
He pulled back, and I almost sobbed.
“Honestly, Clark, I didn’t come here for that.”
I grinned up at him, holding his face in my hands. “What did you come here for?”
He flushed, kissing my forehead. My nose.
“I came because if I’d let another second go by without kissing you, I’d’ve self-combusted.”
I couldn’t stop looking at him. Taking in the details of his sweet, gorgeous face.
“Can’t have that, can we?” I answered, absentmindedly lowering a hand to his hip. Drawing him even closer.
He ran his thumb over my cheekbone, looking at me as if I were something special.
“Is this like it was in your college days?”
“Not even close.”
His brows knit together in confusion.
“Put it to you this way,” I said, anxious to soothe any misunderstanding. “My college experience only left me with questions. With this one simple kiss, you’ve answered every last one of them.”
He nodded to himself, then sent me a mischievous look. “A simple kiss?”
I grinned back. “Uh-huh. A simple, luscious, toe-curling, mind-blowing kiss.”
“Mm.”
He stared at my lips for a beat, then gave me another passionate, life-altering kiss. I opened up to him without thought and whimpered when he invaded my mouth with his tongue.
I pulled him down, needing to feel him close to me. Needing his weight on me.
He pulled back, peering into my eyes. “I’m not too much?”
“You’re perfect,” I murmured, staring right back.
His kisses continued taking me to a new dimension, his body tailor-made for mine. He reached between us, adjusting himself, and I did the same. With only our jeans between us, he lined up his hard, heavy cock against mine.
“That … okay?”