Page 37 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

“Well, you got any ideas?”

“No,” he says, a little too quickly.

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he snaps. “I don’t know exactly what he’s doing with her.”

“Well, did you ask him?”

“No, I didn’t ask him, JT. Jesus Christ. He doesn’t even know that I followed his tracks.”

“Hey, easy there, brother. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know, I know.” Hank sighs again. “It’s just—I told her to piss off.”

“You spoke to her?”

“I found her camp. It’s off on the edge of the property near the lake and the old sawmill.”

“She’s been there all this time?”

“I guess so.”

“And?” I take a step forward. God. This is like pulling teeth.

“And nothing. I told her to leave and that she wasn’t welcome here. She lit into me, said she had as much right to be here as we did.”

I take in a long, deep breath. “What’s she doing? Did she say?”

Hank leans on the railing, staring out at the darkening forest. “She’s tracking the lynx, cataloging vegetation, the whole conservation spiel. Claims she’s trying to find a way to protect the species without ruining our business. It’s the same schtick from the bar.”

The admission catches me off guard. Hank’s always been the one to dig his heels in, to stand firm against anyone who challenges us or our way of life. But now, there’s a hint of doubt in his voice.

“What are you saying, Hank?”

He sighs again, raking a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know. I just...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.

“What?” I prod gently.

“I just don’t know if we’re right about her anymore, JT.”

“Oh, piss off! Listen to yourself. We’ve just buried our dad, Hank. And now, we have some environmentalist snob running around trying to ruin our family.” I can hear the anger in my voice rising, but I can’t help it. “She’s not welcome here and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Hank nods sounding defeated. “I just...”

“You what, Hank? This is our land, our business. We can’t just let her come in and tell us how to run things.”

“I know, I know. It’s just...” Hank trails off again, staring off into the distance.

“What is it?” I ask, exasperated. “God. Since when are you afraid to speak your mind?”

He finally looks at me, his eyes clouded with a mix of frustration and something else—something I can’t place.

I grind my teeth together.

Jesus Christ. “Neither one of you have been thinking straight since she arrived in town.”

Hank’s cheeks flush with color, but he doesn’t deny it. “It’s just... she’s not what I expected, JT. That’s all.”

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