Page 24 of Ten Mountain Men

“You don’t look like the outdoorsy type,” Nash finishes.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I was wearing hiking boots. And camo.”

A smile teases the corner of his mouth. “Your camouflage was pink.”

“And sparkly,” Grumpy Luke adds, even though he’s the one who keeps telling everyone to hurry up and eat.

“Well, I’m a sparkly person,” I say.

I’ve gotta say—Grumpy Luke, the Alpha-Bigfoot of this pack of mountain men, is the most intriguing of all. What is his deal?

“Like your phone,” one of them says—Ash or Nash—and I see he has my sunglasses in one hand and my phone in the other. “Very pink, very sparkly.”

“My phone!” I squeal.

“It’s all muddy. It’s not working, either, but you won’t get phone service here anyway.”

“And I’m afraid to say this thing didn’t make it.”

The one called Ranger has my high-speed action camera in his baseball mitt of a hand, holding it up so we can all see it’s completely smashed. How is that even possible when these things are built for the great outdoors? Damn. How am I supposed to make a documentary with a busted camera and a busted ankle?

“Fancy sunglasses, Miss Goldie,” Buck says as I take them back and slide them onto the top of my head. “They look like something a movie star would wear.”

“The fuck do you know about movie stars?” Luke. Obviously.

“Is that what you are?” Clay says with a grin that makes his eyes twinkle in a way I find quite appealing. “Oooh-wheee. Have we got ourselves a real-life movie star in this cabin? Can’t say I’ve ever kissed a movie star.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a movie star,” I answer. I am actually sorry if they’re disappointed. For some reason that I can’t quite figure out, I want to make a good impression on these guys.

“Wait. You were filming us with that camera, weren’t you?” Ash/Nash asks suddenly, and it’s like the air has gone out of the room with a whoosh. There are ten sets of wide eyes on me, ten mouths settling into firm lines of displeasure. Even Clay’s ever-present smirk has morphed into a frown.

Ash/Nash leans forward, elbow on the table, interrogating gaze on me like he’s a seasoned detective. “What were you doing up here, filming us?”

“Wait, what?” Luke demands. “She was recording you?” He turns to me. “You were recording them?”

I shake my head, then nod. “Yeah, but only because I thought you were all a bunch of Bigfoots,” I admit. “And it’s not like it matters, because the camera and my phone seem to be out of commission, so any footage I took with either is—”

“Who told you about us?” Rusty asks.

“What? No one told me about…”

I trail off when Grumpy Luke gives his head a shake, his lip curled up in disgust. He slams his fist down on the table, causing me to jump. He’s absolutely terrifying in a hot, monstrous god kind of way. Yet still…I don’t feel at all threatened or in danger of any sort of harm.

“Let’s not lose our tempers,” Ranger says. He gives his hair a tug and shifts in his chair. “But we do need to know your intentions, Miss Goldie.”

Lynx looks disappointed in me. “That’s why we initially chased you, but then when we saw you up close, you were so pretty, I guess we kind of forgot about that.”

“Of course. She was blathering about Bigfoots and how she found a nest of ’em when she first bashed into me. Let’s just get to the point,” Grumpy Luke snarls. “Who sent you up here and why?”

His gruff voice is fierce, and I look from man to man in shock. All of a sudden, they all seem to have their hackles raised. But I suppose the decision to live as off the grid as they do has to be rooted in a little bit of paranoia. And once again, I’m baffled that anyone would want to live all the way out here, obviously secluded and cut off from the world.

“Sent me?” I shake my head. “Nobody sent me up here. I wanted to come camping, so I came camping. I may not be the stereotypical outdoorsy type, but I am the type who does whatever the hell I want to do. I’ve been to this mountain once before, when I was younger, and I don’t remember anyone owning the mountain. I have good memories here.” I’ve never really acknowledged it before, but that moment when I got saved by Bigfoot is actually one of my favorite memories. I felt so safe. “I wanted to come back. So I did.”

“Where’s your campsite?” Ranger asks. His light brown beard is the most gnarly of them all, but his mouth is the most kissable mouth I have ever seen. His full lips look deliciously red, like he’s just eaten a wild ripe strawberry that left them stained. Above them, his blue eyes are filled with confusion or wariness, or something that has me totally perplexed.

He’s worried, I realize. Deeply worried.

“Down river from where I stumbled upon you all,” I say. “Is that okay? It’s not an official campground or anything, but…it’s not on your property?”

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