Page 25 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

Skye

T he drive back to town is quiet. Griff seems deep in thought, and I stare out the window, watching the trees blur together. My ex-boyfriend is my new lover's son. It sounds like the tagline for a terrible made-for-TV movie, and yet here I am, living it.

"You okay?" Griff finally asks, his voice rough at the edges.

I almost laugh. Am I okay? I just found out that the man I've been sleeping with is the father of the man who cheated on me and broke my heart. The universe has a warped sense of humor.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "This is... a lot."

He nods, eyes fixed on the road. "For me too."

We lapse back into silence. What else is there to say? Sorry your son is my ex? Sorry this whole situation is beyond fucked up?

The trees give way to buildings as we enter Flounder Ridge. The familiar sight of Jed's garage appears, and Griff pulls up outside it.

"Thanks for dropping me here so I can check on my car," I say, my hand on the door handle.

"I can wait and drive you to the bar if you’d like," he offers, his eyes meeting mine.

I shake my head. "I'll walk. I need to clear my head."

Something that may be hurt flashes across his face, but he nods. "I understand."

I step out of the truck, then pause. "Griff... we'll figure this out, right?"

His expression softens. "Yeah, Skye. We will."

I watch him drive away, feeling like my life has become a complex equation I don't know how to solve.

The sharp smell of motor oil greets me as I enter Jed's garage. He's bent over the engine of a pickup truck, classic rock playing from an ancient radio in the corner.

"Hello," I call out.

Jed straightens, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Well, if it ain't my favorite city girl," he says, but his usual smile fades quickly. "I got some news you ain't gonna like."

My stomach drops. "What's wrong?"

He gestures toward the back corner where Poppy sits, its hood open and looking like a patient on an operating table. "That cylinder head I told you about? Got here yesterday. Turns out it's more beat up than the seller let on."

"Can you still use it?" I ask, already knowing the answer from his expression.

He shakes his head. "Wouldn't trust it. I've got a line on another one, but it's gonna be at least another week, maybe more."

I close my eyes briefly. Another week stranded in Flounder Ridge. Another week of uncertainty, of whatever this thing is with Griff, Buck, and Ford. And now, with the Daniel complication...

"I'm real sorry," Jed continues. "I know you're itching to get on the road."

"It's okay," I tell him. "It's not your fault and I really appreciate everything you’re doing."

He nods. "I'll keep you posted. That's a promise."

"Thanks, Jed."

Outside, the afternoon sun beats down on the pavement.

I start walking toward Devil's Pass, my mind spinning like a hamster wheel.

I'm broke, my car is still not operational, my ex-boyfriend is threatening to throw my belongings in the street, and I'm involved with not one but three men in this tiny town—one of whom is my ex's father.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Charlotte's name flashes on the screen, and I feel a rush of relief at hearing from my friend.

"Hey," I answer, trying to sound normal.

"Skye! What’s up, girl? Any word on your car?"

I laugh, but it comes out sounding strangled. "I just stopped by the mechanic’s shop and it’s still not ready. There’s one part he hasn’t been able to get yet.” I don’t bother to go into more detail—it’s complicated and boring.

"Shit, are you okay? You don’t sound good."

"Things are a little complicated right now."

"Complicated how?" Charlotte's voice sharpens with concern.

I take a deep breath. "Remember Daniel?"

"Your cheating ex? Kind of hard to forget him."

"Well, I just found out that the owner of the bar I'm working at—the guy I've been..." I trail off.

"The one you slept with? What about him?" Charlotte prods.

"He's Daniel's father."

There's a beat of silence, then: "I'm sorry, WHAT?"

"I know, it's insane. I didn't know until today when Daniel showed up at Griff's house and caught us together." The memory makes my cheeks burn.

"Holy fucking shit," Charlotte breathes. "That's... I don't even have words. How did that even happen?

I explain everything—how he just showed up, how pissed off he was, how he said I owe him money.

"So let me get this straight," Charlotte says slowly. "You're sleeping with your ex's father, who you met by complete coincidence when your car broke down? And Daniel just happened to show up at his house today?"

"That about sums it up," I sigh. "Oh, and Daniel's threatening to throw all my stuff out of the apartment by Friday if I don't come get it."

"What an asshole. What are you going to do about the situation with Griff? I mean, that's beyond complicated."

I reach the bar, stopping outside to finish our conversation. "I don't know. And it's not just Griff. There's Buck and Ford too. I've never felt this way about multiple men before. I didn't even think I was capable of it."

"Oh, I didn’t realize there was more than one guy you’re into," Charlotte says. "Babe, are you sure this isn't just a reaction to Daniel cheating on you? A way to feel wanted after being betrayed?"

Her question makes me pause. "I don't think so," I say, but doubt creeps in. "It feels real. They're all amazing men and I’ve connected with them in different ways."

"I'm not judging," Charlotte assures me. "I just want you to be careful. This sounds like an emotional minefield."

"Yeah," I agree, staring at the wooden sign swinging above the bar's entrance. "That's exactly what it is."

I glance at the time and realize I need to go in to start my shift. “I’ve gotta go. I promise to call you again soon so we can chat more about this. And I didn’t even get a chance to ask how you are. Everything okay with you?”

“Don’t worry about me, babe. Everything’s good here. Just take care of yourself. And call me soon.”

After we hang up, I stand outside the bar for a moment, gathering myself. Charlotte's right—this is a minefield. And I've just stepped right into the middle of it.

The bar is already humming with early evening customers when I step inside. Ford stands behind the bar, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he pours a beer. Buck's voice booms from the kitchen, calling out something to Vanna.

Vanna spots me first. "There you are! Thought maybe you weren't coming in."

"Sorry," I mutter. "Got held up."

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she just nods. "Well, you're here now. Ford could use help at the bar."

I make my way behind the bar, feeling Ford's eyes on me as I approach. His gaze feels too perceptive, too knowing.

"Everything okay?" he asks quietly, delivering a beer to a waiting customer.

"Fine," I lie, reaching for an apron. "Just a weird day."

He studies me for a moment longer, then nods. "Take over for me here for a little bit? I need to check our inventory."

I'm grateful for the distraction of work, for the simple mechanics of pouring drinks and taking payments. But my mind keeps slipping back to Daniel's words at Griff's house.

"I wouldn't have cheated if you hadn't made my life a living hell."

Is that true? I fumble with a bottle, nearly dropping it. Was I really so terrible to him? I think back to our last few months together. I was working late, yes. I wasn’t the perfect girlfriend. But a living hell? That seems like an exaggeration, a way to shift blame.

"Can I get a whiskey sour?" a man at the bar calls out, snapping me from my thoughts.

I nod and start mixing the drink, trying to focus. But my hands feel clumsy, my mind elsewhere. I add too much lemon juice and start over.

A memory surfaces: Daniel reaching for me in bed, me turning away, already half asleep.

But that doesn't justify cheating. It doesn't justify fucking my boss in our bed.

"You okay there, sweetheart?" The customer's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "You've been shaking that drink for a long time."

"Sorry," I mumble, pouring the over-shaken whiskey sour and sliding it to him.

From the corner of my eye, I see Buck emerge from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes find me immediately, and he starts to move in my direction. I turn away, pretending to be busy organizing bottles. I can't handle his kindness right now, not when I'm so unsure of everything.

A crash and a curse draw my attention to a table where a burly man in a baggy T-shirt has knocked over his beer.

The golden liquid pools on the floor, and within seconds, Loverboy materializes as if teleported from wherever he was napping.

His nose hits the floor, tongue lapping eagerly at the spilled beer.

"Loverboy, for the love of god, cut it out!" Vanna calls, but it's too late. The dog has already started in on the spilled beer.

I grab a rag and rush over, kneeling to mop up what's left. Loverboy looks at me with his little doggy grin.

"Sorry about that," the man says, embarrassed.

"It's okay," I assure him. "He's faster than light when there's beer involved."

As I finish cleaning the spill, Buck's hand briefly touches my shoulder. "You need help?" he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. His touch feels like an anchor, but I'm still adrift, unsure where my feelings for him—for any of them—fit in the mess of my life.

Vanna walks over to me and sighs deeply. "Skye, would you mind taking the little scoundrel upstairs to your room? I can't have him down here anymore tonight. He shouldn’t be drinking beer—it's really bad for dogs."

I glance at Loverboy, who's now sitting back on his haunches, looking at me with those innocent eyes that clearly say he's done nothing wrong.

"Of course," I reply, grateful for the excuse to step away from the crowded bar for a moment.