Page 13 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

“Have any of you been injured?” she asked.

Santos, Lucas and Frankie bust out laughing. “Yep,” Lucas replied. “Part of the job dealing with ornery bulls is the risk of getting a hoof to the face, knee, your leg, pretty much anywhere that sucker can reach you.” He pulled his cap off and twisted his head to show a scar at his temple. “See this. I nearly dodged one.”

“Jesus.” Zara gaped.

While the guys regaled her with their near mishaps with hooves, heads, and horns, I tuned them out while digging into my food and reminding myself to take a couple of filled Tupperware containers back to the inn. It would save me—us—from running to the diner every night, especially since the town was soon to be flooded with tourists.

“So, bossman,” Frankie’s grin turned devilish. “How are the living quarters at the inn going for you? I bet you’re already missing the open air up here, the good meals, even your bed, huh?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Where are you going with this, Ortiz?”

“Yeah, where are you going with that?” Lucas pressed.

“There was a booking mishap at the inn, and bossman is sharing his room with sweet little Zara here,” Frankie said.

Santos choked on his drink. After hacking up a lung, he gasped, “Wut?”

“You’re sharing a bed?” Lucas asked.

“No,” I said, “I’m sleeping on the couch until this business in the town is over.”

“He’s right,” Zara replied, pink staining her cheeks. “He generously gave up the room so I could have it.”

Cocking a boot on the opposite knee, Santos asked, “So…no awkward juggling the bathroom at midnight, no sudden walks in while the other one is showering, no one is grabbing the wrong cup of coffee in the morning?”

Connie stared at him. “…Are you high?”

“No,” he squinted at her. “Why?”

“Those questions look like the building blocks for a sordid rom-com.” She snorted, “Are you reading Danielle Steel behind our backs, Santos?”

“What? No! W—what the actual f—fudge kind of question is that?”

She shrugged. “You started it.”

I glared at Frankie. “Did you tell them?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Tell us what?” Lucas asked, his gaze flickering between me and Zara.

“Nothing,” I said.

“No, no, no, it’s not nothing,” Santos grilled us. “What the hell is it?”

“I said it's nothing, and I mean it,” I put steel in my voice, “So drop it.”

“I will not drop it,” Lucas replied. “Just get it o?—”

Zara sighed. “He thought I was a hooker when we first met.”

Something crashed and I didn’t know if it was a beer bottle or a plate, but their expressions ranged from surprised to aghast.

“Oh my god, please tell me that is not what happened,” Connie crowed, pushing her dirty blonde hair from her face. “Please.”

My shoulders slumped, which seemed to signal them to jump on my back instead of Santos’.

“I will never forget this,” Santos cackled, then jabbed a finger at Frankie. “How could you keep this from us? You were holding out on us man.”

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