Page 130 of Ten Mountain Men

“Luke,” I say, “I won’t show my pictures to anyone. I was just…so impressed. I should’ve asked for permission.” I run my fingers over the smooth surface of a miniature mountain range on a pedestal right next to me. “But these are incredible. Like, blow-your-mind, make-you-question-reality incredible.”

My mind is already racing with possibilities and I can’t stop myself.

“You know,” I start, my voice casual but my heart thumping with excitement, “we could totally sell these online. Etsy, maybe? Or your own website? They’re one of a kind, right? And your craftsmanship is impeccable. You could make a bundle.”

Luke’s bushy eyebrows knit together, his nostrils flare, and his thunder-gray eyes flash with angry lightning. “No. Hell no.”

“But think about it!” I press on, gesturing wildly. “We wouldn’t have to use your names or anything. It could be anonymous, like Banksy. He’s a street artist and people don’t know his real identity.” Or do they now? I don’t know. But I forge on, “I could handle the shipping, the customer service. We could name it something like—”

“No,” he growls. “And that’s that.”

Frustration bubbles up within me. “Even if you don’t want to share your talent with the world, you need the money.”

Luke’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Do we look like we’re doing without anything to you? We’re not starving, we have a roof over our heads—”

“Yeah, and you need a new one!” I cry.

“We make do,” he huffs.

“Damn it all to hell, you are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met! You make do? Yeah, you make do, living in a cabin that feels like you’re sardines in a very old, rusty can. Don’t you want better?”

“We get by. We sell our smaller sculptures at thePiney Grove Trading Post and General Store.That’s enough for us. Not everyone needs everything to be perfect, Goldilocks.”

I glance back at Ash and Ranger, who are still sleeping. I could really use some backup right about now, my dudes.

“Perfect?” I scoff. “I’m not talking about perfection. The first time one of you sneezes, your cabin is likely to become a stack of firewood.”

His eyes narrow, and I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “If our home isn’t good enough for you, Little Miss Big City, you are more than welcome to get the fuck out of it.”

I sigh. We are right back where we started. Maybe even worse off.

“This isn’t about your home not being good enough for me, Luke,” I say, softening my tone. “This is about your home not being good enough for you. Or your brothers. Not when you could afford so much better if you weren’t so damn hardheaded.”

We glare at each other, the tension crackling between us like a campfire on the verge of setting the whole damn forest ablaze. Probably not a good simile considering that we’re on a mountain, literally surrounded by forests. Part of me wants to tackle him to the ground and kiss that sneer right off his face, the stubborn streak right out of him.

“And,” I continue on, “don’t act like it doesn’t bother you too. You’re the one who suggested cleaning the place. Have you considered maybe you don’t have too much stuff, your place is just too small for it all?”

I can’t believe I’m saying that, and almost believing it, because they absolutely have too much stuff.

His eyes narrow, and I swear I can see a vein throbbing in his forehead. It’s kind of hot, in a “grumpy mountain man about to lose his shit” sort of way.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Now is not the time, Goldie.

“Well, you’re leaving in two weeks, so it won’t be your concern for long,” he says.

“I may not be. Leaving. In two weeks,” I blurt, because apparently my mouth is having a super duper time on this joyride without my brain behind the steering wheel.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up so fast I’m worried they might fly off his forehead entirely.

“What? Since when? Why?” he sputters.

“Because…um…let’s wake up Ash and Ranger and they can explain.” I know they’re probably exhausted, but they can take a nap later, after this is all smoothed over.

“Or you can just tell me yourself, since you have a mouth and seem to loooooooooooooove using it,” he says.

Okay. I can do this. I just need to gird my loins, whatever the hell that actually means. Put on my big girl panties. Spit it out.

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