Page 70 of Snowed In with her Mountain Men
“What?”
Through the fire, the heat, the sweat — all of it — I stepped forward and slipped into his embrace.
“I’ve learned that it’s okay,” I said, hugging him tightly. “You can have scars, and you carry them with you. But you moved forward, which is important, because so many people get lost in the past.”
“They do, huh?” he hugged me back.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “They get lured in by nostalgia, and caught up in its web. Lost in a sad, shadowy maze of what used to be.”
Oakley scratched at his goatee and chuckled. “That’s some writer’s imagery, I’ll tell you.”
“Yeah, well…” I extended my arms and cracked my knuckles.
His warm, fire-kissed body shifted beneath mine. When he looked down at me again, his expression was soft and admiring.
“Everything that happened to you led you here,” I murmured. “You found Sarge. You have Ryder, and Jaxon, and all ofthis,” I waved my arm around.
Leaning up, I kissed him softly and gently, but also with passion fueled by the closeness of our bodies, and the heat of the fire.
“And you haveme,”I whispered, secretly wondering if I’d gone too far.
~ 40 ~
CAMRYN
“Answer one question for me then…” I mused, standing in the corner of the living room. Staring intently, I tilted my head to one side. “Why thehellis the frog bigger than the deer standing next to it?”
The ensuing laughter came from the couch. All three of the guys were lounging in comfortable sweatpants, basking in the warmth of our roaring, blazing fire.
“Are you sure it’s a frog?” asked Ryder. “And not some oversized beaver, or—”
“No,” I replied, squinting hard. “It’s definitely a frog.”
Oakley took a long pull from his beer, and squirmed deeper into the leather. “Could be a two-headed super frog,” he chuckled.
I crossed my arms. “A two-headed super frog?”
“I saw a special on Chernobyl, once. The frogs over there are growing extra limbs, extra heads…” he shrugged, innocently. “Extra everything.”
I bit my lip and looked back at the painting again. It certainly wasn’t one of Sarge’s best. The perspective wasn’t just skewed, it was off by childlike margins. The river flowing through the center of the canvas looked less like a waterway and more like an ‘S’ painted into the messily-brushed forest scene.
“I dated a girl with an extra finger, once,” said Ryder, offhandedly.
“The hell you did,” grumbled Jaxon.
“Oh no?” laughed Ryder. “Polydactyly.”
“Polywhat?”
“Polydactyly,” he said again. “That’s what it’s called. Look it up.”
Jaxon grunted. “We don’t have to. We already know you’re lying.”
“Best part about it was she could give someone two middle fingers,” Ryder went on, ignoring his friend. “We were driving, and this guy cut us off once, and WHAM! She pulled out the double-middle finger.” He shook his head and smiled, remembering fondly. “You should’ve seen the guy’s face. His eyes damn near came out of his head like a cartoon character.” He let out a long sigh. “She was a nice girl.”
“A nice girl?” coughed Jaxon. “Now we know you’re lying.”
“Hang on,” I cut in, rushing to Ryder’s defense. “You don’t think he could’ve dated a nice girl?”
