Page 21 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

And my need washer.

I turn the trail headed towards her campsite.

The sun is already high, casting an unusual heat for this time of year. Even though It’s fall now and the leaves are turning golden and red, the air right now is thick and humid. The usual crispness of the season is nowhere to be found.

I carry two cups of coffee, the steam rising in a lazy swirl in the warm air. The forest is alive with sounds, birds chirping and leaves rustling

When I reach her tent, I call out softly, not wanting to startle her. “Good morning, Mac.”

The tent flap unzips, and she steps out, blinking against the bright sunlight. “Morning, Ben,” she says, her voice still tinged with sleep.

“Brought you some coffee,” I say, handing her one of the cups.

She takes it with a grateful smile. As she sips her coffee, I can’t help but notice how the morning light catches her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbones.

I find her incredibly appealing.

“It feels like summer decided to stick around a little longer,” she notes, stepping out of the tent.

“Yeah, I’d agree with that.”

Here we are, talking about the damn weather. We stare at one another awkwardly for a brief moment. There’s so much I want to ask, but finding the right words feels impossible at this moment. I don’t know where to begin with her. I want to know what the hell she’s really up to. Why she had picked our familyover all the others, but I know she won’t tell me anything. Not until she trusts me.

“How long are you planning on staying here?” I ask.

“As long as I need to.”

I raise a brow.

“What if you don’t find anything this week?”

She shrugs. “That won’t happen.”

“That confident you’re going to find out about this silver lynx?”

She flashes me a brilliant smile and tilts her chin up at me.

“Of course. Though it’s less about finding the silver lynx.”

“And more of…” I ask.

“What’s causing them to go extinct.”

Instantly, I know she’s inferringwe’rethe problem, my brothers and I.

I cock an eyebrow.

“You’re gathering evidence against us?”

“That’s not what I said. Anyways, all I’m doing today is vegetation surveys. Nothing exciting. I appreciate the coffee, but really—I don’t need the help,” she says swiftly changing the subject.

I chuckle.

“You’re something else, Mac.”

She smiles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why, thank you, Ben.”

We share a rare moment of levity, but then I shrug. “I already told you. You don’t really have a choice in whether or not I help you.”

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