Page 36 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
"Now I'm figuring it out day by day." He leans against the back counter, arms folded across his chest. "What about you? What do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"
I take a sip of wine, buying time. It's good—rich and smooth and a little spicy. "I thought I knew," I admit. "Find the right job, marry the right guy, have some babies. But now..."
"Now you're not so sure?" he asks.
"Yes," I say. "Everything has changed so much recently."
He picks up the book, flipping through until he finds another page. "Here—'The world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting.'"
The words resonate with me. "That's beautiful."
"Oliver understood something essential about life," Ford says, his voice taking on a passionate edge that I find incredibly attractive. "That paying attention—really paying attention—is a form of prayer."
"I've never thought of it that way," I say, leaning forward, drawn into the conversation. "But I think you're right. It's about being present in the moment, isn't it? Not just rushing through to get to some imagined future."
His eyes light up. "Exactly. So much of modern life is about distraction—phones, social media, constant noise. We've forgotten how to just be still and notice."
We fall into a deep discussion about poetry, about the way certain writers capture universal truths in such simple language. Ford is articulate and passionate, his hands gesturing expressively as he talks about his favorite poets. I find myself watching the movement of his fingers, the animation in his face, and feeling a pull toward him that's different from what I feel with Griff, but no less powerful.
Where Griff's attraction is immediate and physical—a lightning strike of chemistry—Ford's is like a slow-burning fire, building gradually as our minds connect. I'm captivated by the way he thinks, the depth of his reading, the thoughtfulness with which he approaches literature.
"You two look like you're solving all the world's problems over there," Vanna comments as she passes behind the bar to grab a bottle of tequila. "So intense."
Ford rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Just talking books, Vanna. You know how I like that."
"Mmm-hmm," she hums skeptically. She nods toward my menu. "Skye hasn't even ordered food yet, and you're so wrapped up in your literary love fest that you probably haven’t given her a chance to look at the specials."
I feel myself blush again. "I got distracted," I admit.
"Ford has that effect on women," Vanna says with a wink. "Gets them all hot and bothered talking about poetry and philosophy." She leans in conspiratorially. "It's his superpower. Brains instead of brawn."
"Don't you have tables to wait on?" Ford asks pointedly, though I catch the slight color in his cheeks.
She laughs, grabbing her beers and heading back to her customers. "Fine, fine. Carry on with your intellectual seduction."
When she's gone, Ford clears his throat. "Sorry about that. Vanna has no filter."
"It's okay," I say, finding his embarrassment endearing. "I like her honesty."
He studies me for a moment, then smiles—a genuine smile that transforms his face. "You're not what I expected, Skye."
"What did you expect?"
"I'm not sure," he admits. "But not someone who quotes Mary Oliver and discusses the finer points of narrative perspective in contemporary fiction."
The compliment warms me. "There's probably a lot we don't know about each other," I say, the words coming out more flirtatious than I intended.
He holds my gaze, something shifting in his expression. "I'd like to change that."
The quiet intensity in his voice sends a shiver through me. What is happening to me? This afternoon I was with Griff, feeling things I've never felt before, and now I'm sitting here having what feels distinctly like a moment with Ford. And then there's Buck, who I also find incredibly attractive in a completely different way.
Three men, each appealing in completely different ways. The thought of being with them all is both exhilarating and terrifying.
"Definitely get the burger," Vanna says in a whisper, suddenly appearing beside me again. Her eyes dart between Ford and me, a knowing look on her face. "You're going to need your strength, honey. Especially if you're planning to work your way through all three of them."
She sashays away with Loverboy at her feet before I can respond, leaving me staring after her in shocked silence. I glance at Ford and he’s taking a drink order, oblivious to her comment.
Ford returns and takes my order for a burger, his fingers brushing mine when I hand him back the menu. I can't help but wonder what I've gotten myself into. And, more surprisingly, whether I want to get myself out of it at all.
