Page 44 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

“I didn’t realize you were… I thought…” He trails off, his gaze flicking away, as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts.

The silence between us is deafening, only broken by the drip, drip of the shower that I had left running.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t… doing something you shouldn’t be,” he says finally, his tone more controlled, though there’s still an undercurrent of something deeper. “You can’t blame me for not trusting you.”

I raise an eyebrow, a hint of irritation creeping into my voice. “You really think I’m running around, going through your things? Looking for some kind of dirt on your family? I’m not here for that.”

“Aren’t you?” His words are a challenge, the cold, steely glint is back in his eyes.

I hold his stare, refusing to back down. “No. I’m not. Unless you have a silver lynx hidden in here somewhere.”

His jaw clenches and he takes a sharp step forward. Every muscle within me tightens and I forget to breathe. His eyes wander over me then, crawling over every inch of me.

The air seems to thicken, charged with something electric, something I don’t understand.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, or are you just being a creep?” I ask.

“I came to tell you that dinner is ready,” he grinds out. “Salmon, if you’re interested.”

“Thank you,” I say stiffly. His dinner invitation catching me completely off guard.

He clears his throat, still not taking his eyes off me. Finally, he steps back, breaking the tension. “Get dressed.”

Without waiting for a response, he whips around and practically flees. I don’t waste any time throwing on the sweat pants and flannel shirt unsure when the next intrusion will be.

In Hank’s clothes, I slink down the stairs to the kitchen area.

As I make my way down the hall, the soft glow of the kitchen light draws me in. The room is quiet, the only sound is the crackling of the fire in the living room, but the table is only set for one with a plate of salmon, green beans and potatoes.

Hank is sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face as he stares out the window at the storm. He looks up when he hears me approach, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Warmed up?” he asks, raising a brow.

I nod.

“I can’t remember the last time I was stuck in a storm that terrible.” I glance around looking for some sign of the other two. But neither JT nor Ben are anywhere around.

“We already ate,” he says, noting my searching. “But we all figured you needed some grub.”

“Is it poisoned?” I joke, taking the seat across from him.

“Only one way to find out.”

“I appreciate the hospitality.”

“Mom raised us right. And even if you aren’t a fan of what our family does, there’s no way we can deny someone in need at our doorstep.”

I pick at my food. He’s still staring at me, as if though waiting for me to say something.

“I assure you I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the weather clears up,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?” I ask, setting my fork down.

He smirks and leans in. “Don’t play stupid with me right now.”

“You think I want to be in your house?”

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