Page 2 of Knot Her Mountain Men

“There’s lots of downed trees for firewood. I’ll get started after my coffee.”

“I’ve got it,” Brandon insisted. “Gotta let my omega rest.”

“Brandon…”

“Off to chop wood!” He leapt to his feet and stepped out of the tent.

I wasn’t going to bring him back for an argument. He had odd ideas about omegas, mostly that we were a fragile bunch, which couldn’t be further from the truth. We were sturdy as hell, and had to be to get through the world with dumbasses thinking otherwise.

I sighed and took a long drink of my coffee. If Brandon was out there, he wasn’t in here with me. I always felt like a bit of a dick when he made comments like that and I couldn’t return the sentiment. For whatever reason, I’d never caught feelings for Brandon. He was handsome enough, adventurous, smart, but I didn’t vibe with him the way he wanted me to, and it didn’t matter how many times he brought it up, that had never changed.

Eventually, guilt and my empty cup drove me back outside to help with the firewood. I collected smaller pieces to use for tinder while Brandon focused on hacking a tree apart into larger chunks. He stripped his shirt off when he noticed me.

“You’re gonna get frostbite on your nips doing that.”

“Better than sweating all over my clothes. You can warm them up for me.”

“I think that job is better left for you.” I deliberately turned my back, but not before catching his scowl. All he had to do was not make it weird and these trips would be ten times more enjoyable, but I wasn’t going to let his remarks ruin camping for me.

“Denying me a warm-up hug after I’m doing all the hard work?”

“I offered to help,” I pointed out. I certainly didn’t want to let him do the physical labor if he was going to make it transactional. He was an alpha, and way bigger than me, so a certain amount of extra labor was understandable, but I’d push through hell and back if I had to so it would equalize.

Coyotes sang out from the hills. They weren’t likely to get very close to us, thankfully. As much as I admired the wildlife, I preferred it to be at a safe distance.

By the time all our chores were done for the day, I was thoroughly exhausted. I collapsed onto my cot in our cozy tent, listening to the rustle of the woods around us. My snowsuit was drying near the stove and I was down to some wool layers, stretched out on top of my sleeping bag with my feet in the air so my ankles didn’t swell up.

A dinner of chicken teriyaki rice was rehydrating near the stove while water for hot cocoa warmed. The moment the food was ready, I shoveled it into my mouth like I was starved. Certainly felt that way after our hike and trying to keep up with Brandon on the wood chopping.

“Slow down, tiger.” Brandon laughed. “You’re gonna choke.”

“Too hungry.” I stuffed another spoonful into my mouth. “Slow down later.”

I scarfed my way through my first serving and scooped myself some more, then polished off a couple of the muffins I had brought.

“I have some weed brownies,” Brandon offered.

“I’m good, thanks.” I didn’t need to be off my game in the wilderness in the middle of winter. “You go ahead, though.”

“It’s not fun being the only high one. Just have one.”

“I already said no,” I snapped. Our entire friend group was the same, asking on repeat to try wearing people down if they weren’t complying. “You know how I feel about having to repeat myself.”

“Fine, fine.” Brandon ate one himself, glaring at me the whole time.

I pulled out a deck of cards. “Crazy eights by firelight?”

“Sure, Morg.”

I beat him in two games, like usual. By the time his brownie kicked in, he looked ready to chuck the cards right into the stove.

“This game is stupid.”

“We could switch to go fish,” I offered.

He scrutinized me. “Is that a dig?”

“No. I figure it’ll be an easier game to play while you’re high,” I said simply.

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