Page 14 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

“Haven’t had a Blizzard in ages,” Clark said, rubbing his hands together. “I love those things.”

I took his bags from him and gestured across the street with my chin. “So, what’s your poison? Are you a turtle fudge guy? Do you like nuts in your Blizzard?”

Clark thinned his lips, looking both ways as we crossed the street.

“Oh, this must be really bad,” I said gravely.

“It’s notgood.”

God, he’s charming.

I held the door open, and he walked under my outstretched arm with a smile on his face. For a big lug of a guy, I was a softy for small romantic moments, and this one was straight out of a cheesy romance novel.

Not, ahem, that there’s anything wrong with cheesy romance novels.

Except for the fact that I barely held back the urge to pull him in for a kiss. Which was ridiculous. Clark had given zero indication that he was interested. Hell, I was practically an employee to him.

He’s straight, he’s straight, he’s straight.

We walked up to the counter, and I stood to the side, crossing my arms over my chest, bags dangling from my grip.

Clark turned his soft smile on Ashley, who was behind the counter today. She grinned back, and I … nope. I didn’t feel any kind of way about that at all.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

“I’d like a mini-Blizzard with strawberry, pecans, coconut, and…” He slid a look over to me. “Superman sprinkles, if you’ve got them.”

I snorted into my shoulder. Superman sprinkles?Adorable.

Ashley sent me alook. That was going around a lot today.

“And a large peanut butter and mint chocolate chip Blizzard for you, Beau?”

“Why you gotta call me out like that?” I whined while Clark made a fake vomit noise. I stared at the side of his head with my eyebrows raised.

Ashley snorted. “You’re making fun of this poor man’s Blizzard, and meanwhile, your Blizzard isdisgusting.”

Clark held up his hand, and Ashley leaned across the counter, smacking him a high five. Traitors. Both of ’em.

“Don’t you own your own company?” I asked, feeling a bit sour.

Clark put his hands on his hips. “Yeah …?”

“Only a five-year-old would order sprinkles.” I wrinkled my nose. “Besides, this isclearlythe superior Blizzard. I don’t know what either of you two is talking about.”

“Mmhmm,” Ashley murmured, taking a card from Clark.

“Thanks for buying my Blizzard.”

He waved me off, completely unable to accept a simple compliment. “Thanks for chauffeuring me.”

I pointed out a booth, and we sat, chatting as we waited for our treats.

I was happy to keep it to safe topics, but it seemed that Clark needed to talk. As if maybe he needed me to know the details. So, I let him talk.

He described the awful call he’d received from the police department, and the even more awful time waiting to hear if his son had survived the accident. By the time Ashley had our orders ready, I understood more clearly the daily terror Clark felt for his son. It broke my heart in two.

“I know I’m doing everything wrong,” he admitted around a bite of his fruity, sprinkled, weird concoction. “But I don’t know what else to do.”