Page 68 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
Later that night, the bar hums with Friday night energy. I'm on autopilot—pouring drinks, running credit cards, chatting with some of the regulars.
My mind is elsewhere though, stuck on a loop of imagined scenarios: Skye between all three of us, her body responding to our combined attention, her eyes dark with desire as we taketurns with her. The thought is overwhelming. I've had foursomes before, but I’m pretty sure this one is going to be different.
"Hey, Earth to Ford," Vanna snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Table four's been waiting on their beer for ten minutes."
I blink, realizing I've been standing with my hand on the tap, lost in thought. "Sorry," I mutter, quickly filling the glasses and adding them to her tray.
She narrows her eyes at me. "What's with you tonight? You're a million miles away."
"Just tired," I lie, though from her skeptical expression, she doesn't believe me.
As she walks away, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. But between customers, my mind keeps circling back to the same thought: if we're really going to do this—all four of us together—I want it to be special. Not just some spontaneous thing that happens after closing.
Skye deserves better than that. Better than a rushed encounter on a narrow bed with thin walls and the lingering smell of bar food. She deserves something beautiful, something memorable. Something that shows her how much we—how much I—care about her.
By the time my shift ends, I've made up my mind. This needs to be planned, carefully orchestrated to ensure Skye’s comfort and pleasure. She’s not going to be here much longer and I want this to be something she never forgets.
Back at my cabin, despite the late hour, I open my laptop and begin searching. Local hotels are out—too many prying eyes in a small town like Flounder Ridge. I expand my search to private rentals in the surrounding mountains. Most are either too rustic (an outhouse and cold showers isn’t going to work) or too family-oriented (bunk beds and board games definitely aren’t what I have in mind).
I'm about to give up when I spot it—a modern glass and cedar cabin perched on the edge of a cliff with panoramic mountain views. The photos show a spacious living area with a stone fireplace, a chef's kitchen, and a master bedroom that takes up the entire second floor. But it's the bathroom that catches my eye—a massive sunken tub positioned before floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the mountains, and a shower large enough for... multiple people.
The price makes me wince—more than my monthly mortgage—but as I scroll through more photos, I know it's perfect. The deck with its outdoor firepit and hot tub. A remote location that promises complete privacy.
I check the calendar on the website. It’s available Monday night and I’m sure Vanna could hold the fort down while we’re away. If we close the kitchen for the night, it shouldn’t be a problem—Monday nights are typically pretty dead.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I enter my credit card information and book it for the night. The confirmation email arrives seconds later, and a mixture of excitement and nervousness settles in my stomach.
This is happening. Or at least, it could be happening. I still need to talk to Buck and Griff—and most importantly, Skye—but the possibility now has a time and place attached to it.
I finally fall asleep with images of Skye in that sunken tub, water beading on her skin as she beckons us to join her.
The next morning, I head to the bar earlier than necessary. Just as I expected, Buck is already there, prepping for the day. He looks up when I enter.
"You look like shit," he observes, continuing to slice lemons. "Late night?"
"Something like that." I pour myself a coffee and lean against the counter. "Where's Griff?"
"Office. Doing payroll." Buck sets down his knife. "Why? What's up?"
"I'll tell both of you at once," I say, taking my coffee and head toward the office.
Griff is hunched over the computer, scowling at the screen. He glances up when I knock on the open door. "Please tell me you're here to take over this nightmare."
"Not exactly," I say. "I had an idea I wanted to run by both of you."
Buck squeezes in behind me, his bulk making the small office feel even more cramped. "This about what we were discussing last night?"
I nod, suddenly feeling awkward. How do you casually bring up planning a foursome? "I was thinking, if we're serious about... all of us with Skye... it should be special."
Griff leans back in his chair, giving me his full attention. "Special how?"
"I found a place," I say, pulling out my phone to show them the photos of the Airbnb. "It's up in the mountains, about an hour from here. It’s private and the views are incredible."
Buck whistles as he swipes through the photos. "Damn, Ford. This place is fancy as hell."
"It's perfect," Griff says, leaning over to look. "That hot tub alone is worth whatever it costs."
"About that," I begin, but Buck cuts me off.
