Page 10 of Ten Mountain Men

“Oh, shit,” Brooks says. “We forgot to put our clothes on.”

A few of them have the decency to look embarrassed. Even fewer cover themselves with their hands.

“I swear they aren’t stupid,” I tell her, though why am I telling her anything? I don’t care if she thinks my brothers are stupid.

I stomp over and hold out a hand, hoisting her up. She cries out in agony and I have to grab her to keep her from going down again as her ankle buckles.

“Your ankle. It might be broken,” Lynx says. “Don’t put any weight on it.”

I groan, but it’s drowned out by the commotion as Buck races onto the path, carrying everyone’s pants. He distributes them to the others, brushing his hair out of his eyes so he can better see the lady. He greets me with a chin nod, then he turns his full attention back to her, eyes like damn saucers.

“She’s injured,” Lynx tells him. “Possibly a broken ankle.”

“Who is she?” Buck asks. He sounds awestruck, like it’s a unicorn not some meddlesome lady who does not belong here. “What is she doing here?”

She’s clinging to me like I’m her damn life raft, that’s what she’s doing here.

“She’s a vision,” Brooks breathes, sounding like a teenager with a crush rather than a man in his late-thirties.

“Shut up, Brooks,” I say. Then I ask the lady, “Do you have amnesia?”

She giggles, like she, too, is a teenager with a crush. This is bad on so many levels. I have to get her gone. Now.

“I don’t think so,” she says. She blinks. “But my head doesn’t quite feel right. So…maybe?”

“You know your name, your address, where you came from, and how to get back there?”

She nods. “My name is Gold—”

“I don’t care.” I transfer her to Clay and Lynx, who are the closest to us, getting them both muddy too, but when I said I don’t care, I meant it.

We don’t like outsiders, and they aren’t welcome here. Even the pretty ones. My eyes flick over her curves.

Especially the pretty ones. Damn.

“You drove here? To the mountain?” I ask. “In a car?”

She nods. “It’s the prettiest shade of purple known to—”

“Escort her back to wherever she’s parked,” I tell Lynx. “Then come right back. Lunch is getting cold.”

“Luke, she’s hurt,” Nash protests.

“Not our problem. This is private property, ma’am. My brother, Lynx, will get you safely back to your vehicle. He can give you directions to the nearest hospital. But you have to go. Now.”

I turn to leave, but catch my brothers shooting meaningful looks at each other.

“No,” I say. I know what those meaningful looks mean.

“She’s hurt,” Clay insists. “We have to take her back to the cabin and let her clean up and tend to her wounds. It’s the right thing to do.”

His face is as serious as his voice. What the hell? Clay ain’t acting like Clay.

“Then I’ll take her to her car,” Lynx says. “After I’ve tended to her and let her rest up a bit. We can’t let her drive if she has a concussion, Luke.”

Dammit. He probably has a valid point, but I said no. Didn’t I say no?

“I SAID NO.”

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