Page 4 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

My mind races with questions. Would this unexpected turn of event impact my research?

I’m being sent by the Silver Ridge Wildlife Conservation to track and monitor the remaining silver lynxes left alive. The last ones are believed to be on Truitt property.

There were rumors floating around the research community that Luke Truitt played a huge part in destroying their remaining population.

He, his three sons and their awful logging business.

“Serves the bastard right,” I mumble, stepping away as the television cuts back to commercial.

The PA system announces the final boarding call for my flight. I whip around, clutching my boarding pass and hurry towards the gate.

I cannot miss this flight.

Suddenly, a hand brushes against mine, and I turn to face a man, early thirties, with a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me. He’s holding my carry-on in a massive hand.

“I think this is yours?”

For a moment, I’m struck speechless. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, their wings brushing against every nerve. The man is tall—at least 6'5"—with an athletic, lean build that suggests years of hard, outdoor work. His dark brown hair is slightly wavy, kept short but not overly neat. A hint of stubble lines his strong jawline, and I notice a small scar above his right eyebrow.

“You left it near the television,” he says with a smile that slowly curls at the corner of his mouth.

Shit. Talk, Mac.

“Uh, yes, thank you,” I stammer, reaching out to take the bag. Our fingers brush again, sending a small jolt of electricity up my arm. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, my mind trying to catch up with the moment.

He’s dressed in rugged work clothes, a flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, worn, faded jeans, and sturdy boots.

“Thanks again,” I manage to say, pulling my bag closer. “I’ve a flight to catch.”

He nods, his blue eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. I can hardly take it anymore.

I quickly turn away from him and disappear into the throng of people rushing to their gates.

The gate agent looks frazzled, her eyes scanning a list as passengers trickle onto the plane. When I hand over myboarding pass, she gives it a quick scan and frowns. “Miss Redfern, it seems we’ve overbooked the flight. I’m afraid there isn’t a seat available for you.”

My heart sinks. “What do you mean? I have a ticket. I need to get on this flight.”

“I’m very sorry,” she says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But we’re at full capacity. I can try to get you on the next flight, but it’s not until tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? I can't afford to lose a day. “There has to be something you can do. I have an important research assignment in Silver Ridge. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

She glances around, as if looking for a solution. “I’m afraid we’re out of options. Please see the customer service desk for rebooking.”

Frustration bubbles up inside me. I’m on the verge of arguing further when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

“She can have one of my seats.”

I turn to find the ruggedly handsome man standing next to me, his blue eyes meet mine. My heart rate spikes again.

“Excuse me?” I manage to stutter.

“I booked two since I’m tall and like the elbow room, but I don’t mind sharing, that is, if you don’t mind tagging along?”

“I… I don’t mind,” I finally say, hoping my cheeks aren’t as flushed as they feel.

The gate agent looks relieved at this neat solution, and quickly reassigns my seat next to his. “Thank you.”

He hands her his boarding pass and after a few seconds, I’m given a new one in…

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