Page 100 of Ten Mountain Men

The books definitely mean a lot to them, and they’re mostly scattered all over the floor, which is a shame. They could very well have some super rare priceless first editions getting stepped on for all I know. “We’re starting with your books.”

Nash leans against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “You sure you don’t wanna start with something more…fun? We could make up the beds?”

I wag my finger at him. “You aren’t getting me into the bedroom.”

But oh, sweet Lord, it takes all my willpower to turn down that offer.

“I’m pretty sure cleaning up this mess will be fun for me,” I reply, tilting my head. “And maybe if you two behave yourselves, we’ll actually get to the ‘play’ part later.”

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior,” Buck says. “Well,” he adds with a sheepish grin, “I’ll try my darndest.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” I give his bicep a squeeze I hope comes across as innocent, because I don’t want to start revving their engines when it’s taking enough effort to keep myself on my best behavior.

“Where do we even start?” Nash asks.

I look around. “Give me a minute to formulate a plan. How do you want your collection organized? By color, alphabetically, by genre?”

We’ll get them sorted, then I’ll figure out how to store them.

“Size?” Nash suggests, walking over to me, scooping up some stray novels in his path.

My eyebrows go way up. “Size?”

I start to ask how that’s going to help them find anything, but honestly, organizing by color won’t help with that either. It would look aesthetically pleasing, though.

Nash chuckles, leaning in close enough that I can feel his breath tickle my ear. “I dunno, darlin’. There’s something appealing about things fitting just right, don’t you think?”

A shiver skirts down my spine, and I elbow him gently in the ribs. “Nice attempt at distracting me, Nash, but try it again and I’ll show you you’re not too big for a spanking.”

Oopsie. That slipped out.

“Who’s distracting who now?” he asks. “But if you’re into spanking, I could be convinced to put a handprint on that fine ass of—”

I was not, to my knowledge, into spanking, but my ladybits say, yes, yes, I just might be.

“We’re going by category,” I say. “Fiction over here, nonfiction over there. Got it?”

Buck salutes dramatically. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s categorize the chaos.”

I step toward the nearest stack of books, running my fingers over the dusty spines. Most of them are in pretty good shape, though clearly well-read. They’ve probably been passed around between the brothers, each one adding his own wear and tear to the pages.

Where do they get all these books, I wonder. Certainly not from Amazon.

Buck picks up a stack of paperbacks, flipping through one of the dog-eared novels. “Here are a bunch of our Agatha Christies already together. You like murder mysteries, Goldie?”

“I’m more a fan of romances,” I tell him. “But if you have a favorite mystery, I’d love to read it. Keep one out for me and I’ll start it tonight.”

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his voice dropping to a low, sweet, intimate whisper. “And then maybe you can sleep in my bed again?”

Yes, Buck. Yes, I can sleep in your bed again. Sleep and…whatever else you have in mind. More than anything, I want him to hug me, the way Rusty did.

But. Work first, play later.

It’s nothing short of a miracle, but we all manage to focus and before long, all of the books are off the floor. The dining table is piled high with nonfiction, while the couches and chairs are all filled with fiction. Buck is surprisingly efficient, stacking the books with precision. Nash’s work is a little more haphazard, and of course, he tries to charm me as much as possible while we work. But they’re both helping, and I appreciate it.

“Luke’s gonna lose his mind if he comes in to make supper and the table is like this,” Buck says, finally.

“And if there’s no place to sit after supper,” Nash adds.

---