Page 203 of Mountain Men Heroes

Dyson’s eyes closed briefly and he dropped his hands to his sides. Hard to miss the relief he wore so clearly. Even harder not to be a little offended by it.

“Eeli, we’re here,” Dyson called back.

Eeli burst through the trees, and if Dyson had seemed close to panic before, Eeli looked completely feral. His jaw was clenched so hard that his teeth were bared. His chest heaved with the exertion of pulling air into his lungs. His eyes all but rolled in his head, wild with some emotion I couldn’t quite figure out.

Dyson moved to him and placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Shift.”

Eeli stared at him, unblinking, for several long beats.

“Come with me. We’re needed back at the office.” Dyson dug in the pocket of his dark olive cargo pants. He fished out his keys and tossed them at me without ever looking away from Eeli.

I juggled the cat in my arms and just barely managed to catch them. “What?—”

“Take my car back, Clara. Eeli and I will take his.” Before I could argue, the two men disappeared up the small slope back toward the vehicles, leaving me standing alone except for the stray cat. And feeling more than a little shell-shocked and itchy under my skin.

Force unhappiness at being denied what I most wanted—to be alongside the two men—took root in my gut.

“Not that we’d been invited,” I murmured into the breeze.

“What just happened here?”

I swore my new pregnant friend shrugged right before she nudged my hand so I could continue petting her.

Three

Clara

Over the next few days I developed a severe case of RFS—restless friend syndrome. For years my desire to find love, a soulmate, someone to share my bed with on occasion never took top priority. But now it’s all I can think about. Maybe I was just horny and in need of a kinky, long one-night stand with a stranger. But as I think it I already know the answer isn’t a fling with some unknown guy.

I wanted them.

I spent the last several nights tossing and turning while debating the wisdom of following through on my plans for Operation Separate and Conquer. The relationship between Dyson and Eeli was way more complex than I realized, and I was afraid my meddling had the potential to do more harm than good.

Every time I decided to back away and let Sawyer and Mac take the lead in helping Dyson and Eeli, a fierce protectiveness clawed at my insides until I felt like one big, raw exposed nerve.

If love felt like this, I might want to reconsider all this emotional crap. It made my night suck. And my days were no better. Trying to get through caring for the animals at the Hardwood Rescue and Rehabilitation Center, sneaking off for band practice, and fending off increasingly annoying calls and texts from Sawyer while running on fumes did not make my days run smoothly.

The mistakes I’d made had been many and varied and included everything from locking my keys in my truck to burning my toast beyond recognition. And don’t even get me started on forgetting to latch the cage on an injured young raccoon I’d been caring for. He’d given me a run for my money for the better part of the morning.

I put my truck into gear and pulled out of the rescue’s parking lot. My mind wandered back to my latest obsession—Dyson and Eeli, Eeli and Dyson. The two were tangled in my head like those interlocking metal puzzles that you had to move just the right way to get them to separate.

And then there was The Moment, as I’d come to think of it. That fleeting instant when I’d put my hand on Dyson and everything I ever thought I felt for him changed in a flash.

I tried telling myself I’d imagined it, but I knew the truth. He reacted to my touch in a way a soulmate does. Like the freaking cosmos open up and angels sing. I rolled my eyes at my crazy thoughts, but I am left wondering if Dyson could be meant for me.

Not that he needed to be thinking of a woman right now. It was obvious the man had some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder. Maybe it would be for the best if I backed off until the issues with Eeli and Dyson were resolved.

I could feel the dread roll through me at the idea. I sighed deeply as I turned my truck onto a gravel road leading up to an old hunting lodge. A tourist who’d been out photographing wildlife stopped in the rescue center to tell me he’d spotted what looked to be a stray dog out this way.

At least searching for a dog up here would help keep my mind off my troubles for a little bit. No more Dyson and Eeli. And no more letting my concentration wander to the point it caused a mishap.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than my truck slid too close to the drainage ditch along the side of the road, making the backend fishtail. I jerked the wheel to correct it and found myself skidding toward the other side of the road.

I fought back panic and steered into the skid, pumping my brakes. My breath left me in a rush as the truck steadied and I was able to get control once more.

The relief was short-lived. I’d made it only a few more yards up the road when the truck seized. The engine sputtered and the old pickup jerked. A wheezing sound came from the front end, followed by a cough that sounded like a victim of the plague in the final throes of death, and then the engine died and the truck came to a grinding halt in the middle of the gravel road.

I slapped my hand against the steering wheel. “Damn, damn, damn.”

---