Page 95 of Ten Mountain Men

The brothers have returned. And the clit goes wild!

“Well, well, well! Look who’s playing house!” Clay announces loudly, with a grin that spreads from ear to ear. “And while listening to love songs!”

Hunter beelines for me, settling behind me, his bear paws giving my shoulders a gentle knead. He bends down to nuzzle my neck and whispers, “You wearing him down, Goldie?”

“I heard that,” Luke says.

“She wearing you down, Luther?” Hunter redirects with a chuckle.

Wait a hot minute. Luther?! “Luke is short for Luther?” I ask.

“Don’t ever call me that,” Luke says, but it’s more deadpan than grumpy. Yay! Progress all around!

“I’m sure he’ll let you call him whatever you want while y’all are horizontal, darlin’,” Nash says.

I do not miss the dark look Luke levels Nash with, but Nash either misses it or ignores it.

Ash enters quietly behind the others. Unlike the rest, his gaze is sharp, analytical. His eyes flick between me and Luke, studying our posture, our proximity, trying to piece together what might’ve transpired between us in the time they were gone. He doesn’t say a word, just observes, as if filing away this moment for later dissection. When our eyes meet, he raises a brow, then shakes his head and smiles. It’s as if he was silently asking me if everything went okay, but then he saw something that helped him make up his own mind that it had gone just fine.

“Goldilocks and I are not going to be getting horizontal. Unless, that is, she barrels into me and knocks me flat onto my back in a mud puddle again,” Luke announces. Wait…was that a joke? From Luke?

“We’re going to try companionship. Not friendship even, and definitely no sex,” I tell the others. It actually feels like my pussy is pouting, and I send down the message that we don’t even know that Luke is well-endowed. He was wearing swim trunks in the swimming hole earlier, and is the only one I haven’t seen naked. He could have a micropenis. Hell, at forty-two, he could be having premature erectile dysfunction.

What the heckity hell is wrong with me?

Hunter spins me around, taking my place at the sink, and grabs a dish towel. He starts drying a pot without even being asked.

Clay quirks a white-blond eyebrow, and I feel a tug of envy at that Rapunzelesque hair of his. It’s undeniable—ever since I did my magic on it by ridding it of the snarls and tangles, this man has better hair than I do. It should be criminal. “Speaking of that,” he says. “Y’know, the sex and the friendship. Rusty’s decided he just wants friendship, so I can have his helping of the sex.”

“We discussed no such thing, you greedy jackass. I definitely want the sex, Rose-Gold,” Rusty says, then blushes that darling blush they all seem to share. “The friendship too, but definitely the sex.”

“Later, gator,” Clay says. “Right about now, I’m going to take Miss Goldie to the bedroom for a quick game of hide the sausage.”

OH. Sweet Lord.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. He’s actually crossing the room to come get me.

Luke sighs. “You don’t tell her, bozo, you ask her.”

Okay, a man who knows basic consent shouldn’t be swoonworthy, but there is definitely somethingswooooooooooooon!about Luke putting Clay in his place when it looks like he’s about to go all caveman.

Before I can respond, Brooks and Lynx come in. It’s hard to ignore the rush of affection I feel when Brooks flashes me a smile. My first lover. Of course, I feel something very similar when Lynx’s gold-green cat-eyes land on me. He’s carrying a cooler.

“Sorry we were gone so long, but we thought it would be wise to give you two some time to work things out proper,” Brooks says.

“But don’t worry, Luke, We weren’t just lollygagging. We went fishing. They were practically jumpin’ out the river. Never got a haul this big. Should be a great supper tonight.”

Guess I’m going to have to learn to love fish, as long as I’m here. Oh well, I can adapt.

“Yum,” I say.

“Speaking of eatin’,” Ash says. “Uh…it’s almost noon. Are we skipping lunch again?”

“Oh, crap,” Luke says. He seems a bit flustered as he glances at the clock. “I forgot about lunch.”

And he doesn’t even seem mad about it. Or grumpy.

He goes over and turns the music off. “Let me see what I can throw together quick.”

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