Page 43 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

“You should have left when I told you to,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just needed to look around. I thought...” my voice trails off, not sure what I thought anymore. I wasn’t expecting them to be so kind or let me into their home without a bigger fight.

Hank stops on the landing and turns to face me, his eyes intense.

“Well, there’s a lot going on right now, Mac.”

“I can tell.” I look around, taking in the opulence and isolation of the place. “What exactly is going on here?”

Hank hesitates before continuing to the next floor. “It’s...complicated. Let’s just say since dad passed, we’ve trying to figure some things out. He wasn’t necessarily the most organized guy when it came to paperwork.”

At the end of the hall, Hank gestures to a partially open door.

“You can stay here,” he says, pushing the door open wider. The room is spacious with a four-poster bed adorned with plush pillows and a cozy-looking quilt. A massive mirror sits over the dresser.

He rummages through a drawer and pulls out some clothes—a flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “These should fit. They’re my old clothes, but they’ll be more comfortable than what you’re wearing now.”

“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I take the clothes from him.

“There’s a bathroom there,” Hank says, pointing to another door across the room. “You can use the shower to warm up. There are towels in the drawer.”

“Thank you. I appreciate all this. I really do.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hank turns to leave, then pauses. “I’m sorry about J.T. He’s...”

“Bossy and protective?” I finish.

Hank chuckles. “Yeah, that too.”

I dropthe borrowed clothes onto the bed, my fingers trembling slightly as I peel off my soaked jacket. The wet fabric clings to my skin, cold and heavy, and I shiver as I finally strip it away. My shirt and pants follow, landing in a soggy heap on the floor. Theair in the room is warm, but it does little to chase away the chill that’s seeped into my bones.

I feel vulnerable here.

I reach out and turn the handle, and water cascades from the rain showerhead above, a steady, soothing stream that quickly fills the space with steam.

I slide off my underwear, the fabric is damp and sticks to my skin. I step into the blissfully hot shower.

I reach for the soap, lathering it between my hands, the scent of sandalwood and something earthy fills the air. My skin tingles as I run my hands over my body, the suds sliding down, taking with them the last remnants of the night’s chill. I scrub away the dirt, the sweat, the fear, until all that’s left is the warmth of the water cascading down my body.

When I’m warmed through, I turn off the water, and reach for the towel on the hook, but nearly slip when I hear the thud of a footstep.

My eyes snap upward.

JT is standing in the bathroom doorway, his broad frame filling the space, his eyes wide with surprise and something else—something darker, more intense. He’s frozen, caught off guard, his hand still on the door handle, as if he hadn’t meant to intrude.

For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us crackles with tension.

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to say, his voice rougher than usual. “I didn’t mean to...”

I snatch the towel and wrap it around myself, my heart hammers in my chest. How much had he seen? My cheeks burn.

“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask, my voice coming out more breathless than I’d like.

JT blinks, as if snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “I knocked,” he explains, his voice rough, edged with something Ican’t quite place. “I didn’t hear anything. I thought you might’ve been… snooping around the house.”

“Snooping?” The word feels absurd at this moment, given the fact that I’m standing in front of him, fresh out of the shower, with nothing but a towel between us.

“You’re the one sneaking around! Not me.”

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