Page 65 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

“You nearly lost your damn leg out there, and you’re already planning your next stunt?” Hank spits out.

“I have a job to do, and I’m not quitting now!”

“We understand that, Mac, but you need to rest,” Ben interjects.

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“No, what?” JT growls.

“No, I’m not going to sit around and do nothing while whoever set that trap is still out there. The three of you are more worried about me causing problems than someone running around your property, trying to trap animals? Sounds fishy as hell.”

“You have no other choice,” Hank growls.

“Watch me,” I say, my rallying cry as I push myself off the bed, and promptly fall forward, face first.

JT catches me seconds before my face hits the hardwood. His hands grab either side of my shoulders, lifting me upwards.

“God, you’re stubborn,” he mutters.

“As soon as I can walk, I’m out of here,” I mutter.

“We’ll see about that,” JT says. There's a dangerous glint in his eyes, and it's then that I realize that I might just have bitten off more than I can chew.

“What am I supposed to do? Just lay in your bed?”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

I glower, pouting like a child as I am set back down on the bed.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule,” Hank mutters, shaking his head.

“And you’re as charming as a rattlesnake,” I retort.

He growls, and I think for a moment he might actually throttle me, but Ben steps in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go downstairs, finish up outside and everyone just shut the hell up for five minutes.”

“Fine by me,” JT grumbles, shouldering both his brothers on the way out. Hank shakes his head, trailing behind him.

Ben lowers his gaze.

“You really need to rest, alright? I’ll try and help you as much as I can, but just please—get the hell better, Mac.”

The next threedays blur together; a mix of pain, rest, and long hours spent staring out at the forest from the safety of the master bedroom. JT insisted I stay in his room, saying it was the only place big enough, and comfortable enough for me to recover. But it doesn’t feel like an act of kindness—it feels more like he’s keeping me under his watchful eye, like I’m a suspect under house arrest.

And maybe I am.

JT hasn’t said much to me since he saved me, but the tension between us is as thick as the morning fog that rolls in over the mountains. I often catch him watching me, his gaze hard and unreadable, like he’s waiting for me to slip up, to reveal some hidden agenda. But he’s not the only one with doubts. I can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding. What he’s not telling me about his family, and their business.

I even told them about how I found the footage of the lynx, but when I tried to show them, I discovered my laptop had broken from falling with me that night.

Now, I had to get that repaired before anyone would believe me.

They had a doctor come in from town and look me over, only to marvel over JT’s stitching job.

Hank’s been distant too, though I can tell he’s worried about me. He’s checked in a few times, offering me food, asking how I’m feeling, but there’s a stiffness to him, a reluctance to get too close. Maybe it’s guilt—guilt over what happened in the woods, and over the way he treated me before. Or maybe it’s something else, something neither of us is ready to confront.

I mean our last interaction was fucking in the hotel room.

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