About

I’ve been working at Boone’s Ranch for almost a year now, and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better place to land. Sneaking the horses carrots and apples has somehow become my favorite part of the day. Technically, I’m not supposed to do it. At least, that’s what my boss says. But I’ve caught Denver Boone watching me do it more times than I can count. He always puts on this irritated expression, like I’m personally bankrupting his ranch one apple at a time. “Shhh,” I’ll whisper to whichever horse happens to be looking particularly innocent. “Don’t tell Mr. Denver. He’ll fire me.” Then I’ll turn around, just in time to catch the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he quickly hides it. He thinks I don’t notice. I absolutely notice. My relationship with Denver Boone isn’t like any other relationship I’ve had with a boss. For one thing, he actually likes me. He just has a strange way of showing it. He’s easy to talk to, sarcastic as hell, and has never once missed an opportunity to give me shit. Naturally, I give it right back. It’s become our thing. He’s taught me more about ranching than I ever expected to learn, considering I came into this job knowing approximately three things about horses: they’re big, they’re beautiful, and apparently, they can sense fear. I still make fun of him for being completely incapable of using modern technology. I call him “Caveman” because, more often than not, he’s losing a fight with an iPhone. In return, he calls me “city girl,” despite my repeated insistence that I am perfectly capable of surviving outside civilization. I have yet to provide any substantial evidence to support that claim, but that’s beside the point. And every now and then, I steal his cowboy hat just to piss him off. He always takes it back. Usually with a sigh. Sometimes with a smirk. Jonny and I had gone to Boone’s Ranch earlier that day to drop off propane tanks. It was my day off, but I had left my phone charger in the office the evening before, so I tagged along. In my defense, I was in a hurry to get to my car after Denver had told me my ass “looked great in those jeans” and that I should “wear them more often.” I had blushed. Giggle-snorted, actually. Then I had practically escaped before my face could get any hotter. Because apparently, my boss complimenting my ass was all it took to make my brain start thinking things it had absolutely no business thinking. Especially when I was six months into a relationship. With his son. Okay. Well. Obviously, I didn’t know that part yet. I found that out the same day we dropped off the propane tanks. Apparently, Jonny’s dad had called him and asked him to bring them over. His dad. I remember looking at Jonny. Then at Denver. Then back at Jonny. There was a moment of complete, horrifying silence as the pieces clicked into place. “Wait.” I pointed between them. “You two are related?” Jonny looked at me like I had just asked whether horses could fly. “Uh… yeah?” Denver, on the other hand, looked considerably less amused. His eyes moved from his son to me. Then back to his son. And suddenly, I understood exactly why he had been staring at us like that. I had been working for Denver Boone for nearly a year. I had been dating his son for six months. And somehow, neither of us had ever thought to mention the other’s last name. In my defense, I’d always known Jonny as Jonny Gavin. Apparently, his full name was Jonathan Gavin Boone. And judging by the look on Denver’s face, discovering that his favorite employee was dating his son was not exactly the family reunion he’d been hoping for.