Page 56 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
"A blank page I can't afford to fill," I counter. "Being broke limits your options pretty significantly."
"I could help," he says quietly. "I could pay for your car, make you a loan to get you started again. But I won't do it unless you want me to. I don't want money to change what we have."
The offer stuns me. It's so casual, so matter-of-fact—as if he's offering to buy me lunch, not potentially transform my financial situation.
"Why would you do that?" I ask, genuinely confused.
"Because I care about you," he says simply. "Because I have the means to help, and watching you struggle is hard."
I shake my head, overwhelmed. "I couldn't accept that. It's too much."
"It's not, for me." He touches my hand lightly. "But I understand. Just know the offer stands."
We sit in silence for a moment, his fingers still resting against mine on the bar top.
"What was the downside of that life?" I ask finally. "Before you left it behind?"
His eyes meet mine, and I see something vulnerable there. "It cost me a lot. Relationships. Time. Peace of mind." He takes another sip of whiskey. "I was always chasing the next deal, the next promotion, the next rung on a ladder."
"And now?"
"Now I read poetry at sunset. I mix drinks for people I know by name. I have time to think, to feel, to actually live." His voice drops. "And I've met someone who makes me feel more alive than all those years of chasing ever did."
The air between us shifts, charged with something new. His gaze holds mine, and I find myself leaning toward him.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I whisper. "With any of this. With you, with Griff, with Buck. I've never been this person."
"What person is that?"
"Someone who wants multiple men at once. Someone who can't choose."
Ford's lips curve into a gentle smile. "Maybe the problem isn't that you can't choose. Maybe it's that you don't have to."
His words settle over me like a revelation. The permission in them, the acceptance, makes something unclench in my chest.
When he leans forward, I meet him halfway. His kiss is different from Griff's urgency or Buck's tenderness. It's thoughtful, exploring, like he's reading me—finding the spaces between my words and filling them with understanding.
His hand reaches up and strokes my face. When we part, his eyes search mine, asking a silent question.
"I need time," I say softly. "To figure all of this out."
He nods, accepting this without disappointment. "Time is something I can give. I’ve got plenty of it." He stands, dropping a final kiss on my forehead. "Get some rest, Skye. Tomorrow’s another day."
I watch him gather his things, moving with that quiet grace that seems to define him. At the door, he turns back.
"For what it's worth," he says, "I think you're exactly where you're supposed to be right now."
After he leaves, I sit alone in the empty bar, and I wonder if he might be right.
Chapter 16
Skye
I'm sprawled across the bed, scrolling mindlessly through my phone when my thumb freezes mid-swipe. Daniel's face stares back at me from my feed, his profile picture next to a post that makes my stomach drop. I blink hard, hoping I've misread it, but the words remain unchanged when I open my eyes again.
When your ex jumps straight into bed with your old man after you break up. #classy #keepitinthefamily #desperation
My face burns hot as I read the comments beneath it. Laughing emojis, shocked faces, and worse—questions. "Wait, what?" "Dude, for real?" "That's messed up." Daniel's responses are vague enough to keep people hooked but specific enough that anyone who knows us would connect the dots.
