Page 37 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
Chapter 11
Griff
Ilean against the bar, watching Skye laugh with some customers. She's gotten good at this—anticipating what people want before they ask, making them feel welcome with just a smile. She’s only been here a short time yet she moves through the place like she's always been here. Like she belongs.
That thought catches in my chest, because she doesn't belong here—not permanently. Her car will get fixed, and she'll drive away. I know this. But it still doesn't stop me from wanting her to stay.
She glances over at me and our eyes lock. That small smile she gives me—the one that feels like it's just for me—hits me right in the gut. Then Buck calls her to pick up some plates, and she turns away.
I watch as she weaves between tables to the kitchen. Through the pass-through window, I can see Buck offering Skye a taste of something. Her eyes close as she savors it, and she makes a sound—halfway between a sigh and a moan—that I recognize from our afternoon at the waterfall. Something hot and possessive flares in my chest.
"Looks like Buck's pulling out all the stops," Ford says beside me, following my gaze. “He's been cooking up something special all day for Skye.”
"Interesting," I mutter, trying to sound casual.
"Can't really blame him for putting in the effort." Ford glances at me, an eyebrow raised. "She's pretty special."
I grunt noncommittally and grab a rag to wipe down the already clean bar top.
Half an hour later, Buck emerges from the kitchen carrying a plate that definitely isn't on our menu. He weaves through the crowd straight to Skye, who's taking a break at an empty table.
"Made you lunch," he announces, setting the plate down at the table.
Skye looks surprised, her cheeks coloring slightly. "You didn't have to do that."
"Wanted to." Buck's entire face softens when he looks at her. "Figured you might be tired of burgers and fries."
I've known Buck for fifteen years. We've been through bar fights, business crises, and his messy divorce. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at Skye right now—like she's something precious he can't quite believe is real.
Skye begins eating the fancy pasta dish complete with fresh herbs on top. She takes a bite and closes her eyes, that expression of pleasure crossing her face again.
"Good?" Buck asks.
"Amazing," she says, taking another bite. "Your talent is wasted on bar food."
Buck's cheeks redden slightly under his beard. "Just something I threw together."
They fall into conversation, heads bent close together. I try not to stare, but it's impossible not to notice how happy they seem together, how Buck's booming laugh fills the room when she says something that amuses him.
Ford returns from running an errand. He's carrying a small package wrapped in brown paper.
He straightens his shoulders and walks over to the table where Skye and Buck are now laughing hysterically at something. I watch as he says something to Skye, then places the package in front of her. She glances up at him with a question in her eyes.
"Go ahead," I hear Ford say. "Open it."
She carefully unwraps the paper, revealing a book. From here, I can't see the title, but I can tell it's old—the cover is faded and the binding is worn. Skye's hands fly to her mouth, and she looks up at Ford with an expression of pure delight.
"How did you—" she begins.
"You mentioned before that it’s your favorite Valentes book," Ford says, sliding into the chair opposite her. "I have a friend who owns a rare book shop in Denver. He made a few calls for me."
Skye runs her fingers reverently over the cover. "This is a first edition, Ford."
Ford shrugs like it's nothing, but I can see the pleasure in his eyes at her reaction. "It's inscribed, too. Look inside."
She opens the book and gasps softly. "Ford, this is... I can't accept this. It must have cost?—"
"It's a gift," he says firmly. “And the money’s not important.”
