Page 35 of Ten Mountain Men

If he doesn’t have any ambitions beyond mountain man, maybe I should suggest he’d make a helluva librarian?

They do have a ton of books—teetering, precarious piles of them, all around. Where did they get all these books? I try to see what everyone is reading. Hunter has a novel that I know was published fairly recently. And Grumpy Luke…

I gasp.

Grumpy Luke hasJ.J. Hartley’s Big Book of Quotations Volume 11. There are thirty volumes total, and I know because I have them all on my e-reader.

“You like quotes?” I ask him, quietly, so as not to disturb the others.

“Yep,” he says without looking up.

Yes! This is something we can bond over. I do a little happy dance in my seat. Well, it’s more of a shimmy of my shoulders because the pain from my ankle is slowly migrating up my leg. I try to ignore it.

“Do you have a favorite quote?” I ask Grumpy Luke.

“In pregnant silences, peace gestates, and at the proper time, through quiet labor of meditation, enlightenment is born,” he says.

Impressed that he has that memorized, I start to ask who said it, but then I realize, since I am talking to Grumpy Luke, in all likelihood he is not actually sharing his favorite quote with me. He’s telling me to shut the fuck up.

“Seeing as you’re staying the night, and all,” Rusty whispers, “can I give you a grand tour?”

I’m equal parts intrigued and frightened. What are the odds that there’s no taxidermy in this cabin? Zero.

“She needs to stay off her foot,” Grumpy Luke says, “so she can get better and be on her way. At sunrise, preferably.”

First: How did he hear that? Second: Told you so.

“She’ll be off her foot. Both her feet, in fact,” Rusty says, and before Grumpy Luke can respond or I can process what’s happening, I’m in Rusty’s arms. These men really do have the whole bridegroom-style carry down pat, don’t they?

“You’ve already seen the kitchen and the living room and the dining room,” he says. “And of course, the bathroom.”

Holding me with one arm, he slides open a pocket door I hadn’t even noticed, which takes us into another room. A bedroom. A bedroom with bunk beds. Three sets of the biggest bunk beds I’ve ever seen, one set against each wall.

“You sleep in bunk beds,” I say. Then I quickly add, not wanting to sound judgmental about it, “The woodwork is impeccable.”

It really is. You don’t get furniture of this quality at a store these days.

“Did you guys build them?” I ask.

There’s a long pause. “Our father did. He was an incredible woodworker. We’re just decent at it.”

I note his use of the words “did” and “was” in reference to their father, and the way his voice trips a bit on the word.

“I’ll bet he was an incredible man,” I say gently.

He doesn’t respond.

“Which bed is yours?” I ask.

“I’m not in here,” he says and carries me across the room, through another door. In this room, there’s three individual beds. As I’m doing the math in my head, he says, “Luke sleeps upstairs. In the attic. Don’t go up there.”

“Okay,” I say, even though thedon’t go up thereignites my curiosity and makes me immediately want to go up there, though I’m generally not a fan of attics because they’re typically filled with boxes and boxes of useless crap. But maybe since they have so much useless crap down here, the attic is spic-and-span. Or maybe Grumpy Luke sleeps on a mattress on top of boxes of useless crap. Either way, now I need to know what’s up there.

“Do you want to be on top or bottom?” Rusty asks, pulling me out of my musings.

I gaze into his gorgeous hazel eyes and see no innuendo there, but a very naughty image of me riding him pops into my head. In the image, his hands cup my tits with no spillage—I am a busty girl, but they bounce in his huge palms as I bounce on his huge cock, both of us making obscene sounds of pleasure. I blurt, “Top, definitely. But, um…I can’t take one of your beds. I can sleep on the couch. I don’t mind.”

And that’s how I find myself alone on the couch, stretched out under an old Afghan, long after they’ve turned in for the night. I’m wide awake, and it’s so quiet. Shouldn’t this place at least creak or something?

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