Page 27 of Ten Mountain Men

It’s quiet for a minute, awkwardly so, with me trying not to stare at Rose-Gold Locke and her sending furtive glances in my direction, catching my failed attempts not to stare at her every time.

“The poultice is made of slippery elm root and pine resin,” I say for lack of nothing else appropriate to offer.

“Oh,” she says.

I nod. “Yeah.”

Just as I’m about to add that the pine resin seals up wounds and the slippery elm root soothes and reduces inflammation, she asks quite abruptly, “Why didn’t he go to medical school?”

It’s ridiculous for me to be jealous that she’s questioning me about Lynx and not about me, but jealous I am.

“He’d have to live out there.” I shrug, keeping it simple, because I don’t think Lynx would appreciate me telling her that he didn’t go to medical school because he dropped out of college practically as soon as he started, turning tail and coming back home.

Rose-Gold Locke gives me a small smile that feels like I’ve been offered a treasure. It sends shivers all the way up and then all the way down my damn spine. It’s like that mouth of hers is a spark and my whole body is getting ready to short out. Then she takes a deep breath and lets it out, her chest rising and falling. She is what you call buxom, a word I learned fromJane Eyreby Miss Charlotte Brontë.

Don’t stare at her tits, don’t stare at her tits…

What the hell is taking Lynx so long? Is he making a new batch of the poultice from scratch?

Rose-Gold Locke has the most magnificent tits I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Life out there’s not so bad,” she says. “Though I totally understand it’s not for everyone. Living off the grid has its advantages too, right?”

“Hmm.”

I don’t know if she’s batting her eyelashes at me as some kind of mating ritual or if that’s just how her face is. I think about what Luke said about mating on the table and…well. I know what I’ll be thinking about the next time I pleasure myself. It’s not respectful, but I can’t help thinking about her on her hands and knees on the table, me behind her.

I shift my position, because the front of my pants is about to be tented. Just to be on the safe side, I grab a throw pillow and place it in my lap, trying to look casual about it.

The faint scent of the washing liquid that I always put in my bathwater to get my hair clean still clings to her. I can’t imagine her hair ever looking like it was dipped in a frying pan full of sausage grease the way mine sometimes does, that’s for sure, so I don’t think she needed the washing liquid. But it doesn’t seem to have done any harm because all that hair of hers is coiled into shiny ropes of gold ringlets down her back. It looks so soft, the color lightening as it dries.

And I bet she tastes like raspberries and cream too.

“I’m really sorry I took your bath, Rusty,” she adds, as if reading my thoughts.

I try to covertly sniff my armpit. I smell like sweat from my run. Hopefully she doesn’t find my natural scent too offensive to her sensibilities.

“It’s alright.” I press my lips together to keep from saying more. You give city women an inch and they’ll take a mile. That’s what Ma used to say, anyway. I wouldn’t mind giving Rose-Gold Locke every inch of my cock, but somehow I don’t think that’s what Ma meant.

“So…” Her teeth run along the top of her lip as she glances around the cabin. “It’s just the ten…brothers…of you living up here together? None of you are married? No girlfriends or significant others?”

She thinks we might have ourselves wives? Or girlfriends? Or could she just be inquiring because she likes what she sees and doesn’t want me to have myself a wife or a girlfriend?

Oh damn. I think I’m blushing. And my pants are definitely tented now.

“No, it’s just us.”

“None of you have ever been married?” She raises her eyebrows. Her eyes are a shade of blue I’ve never seen in my life. Even the sky doesn’t compare. They’re so bright.

I shake my head. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh. I just…the bubble bath…kind of a fancy, feminine touch. I thought maybe one or more of you had a special someone in their lives who it might belong to.”

I glance over to the sink, where the near empty bottle of washing liquid sits on the crowded counter. I didn’t think there was anything fancy or feminine about washing liquid, but I can’t say I’m an expert in women. “No, ma’am.”

She nods. We’re quiet again for a minute, but then she starts to open her mouth to say something else.

I never get to hear what it is because there’s a commotion at the front door. Buck and Ranger are back, and a second after they enter, Lynx returns, and Luke and Ash come in the back door.

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