Page 60 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
She giggles again, then kisses me—slow, sensual, lingering. Her mouth tastes faintly of peppermint and something sweeter, something entirely her.
I cup her hip, pulling her closer, and she shifts until our bodies align. Skin on skin.
We don’t speak. We don’t need to. Her eyes stay open, searching mine, and I let her see everything: my hunger, my uncertainty, my hope. She moves against me gently, confidently, and I match her rhythm. It’s not frantic, not cinematic. It’s careful. Intimate. Like we’re discovering something fragile together, and neither of us dares to break it.
My heart races—not just from arousal but from this raw closeness, this unfiltered connection. It almost overwhelms me.
She laces her fingers with mine and presses her forehead to mine. “You’re so sweet, Eric,” she whispers.
I close my eyes and let everything else fall away. Her breath, her touch, the slow warmth building between us—it’s enough.
And in that moment, it doesn’t matter that she’s confused.
It doesn’t matter that she loves others, too.
All that matters is that right now, she’s here. And so am I.
CHAPTER 19
Luna
Iwatch Southpaw as he casually gets up from his comfortable, curled-up position on my bed, gives me a supercilious stare for a moment, yawns unnecessarily loudly, and then stretches—first his front legs, then his back legs—before settling himself back down on his other side and closing his eyes again.
Seems clear to me that this particular wolf knows only too well he’s onto a good thing here at the logging camp. Not only does he have a whole selection of warm, comfortable beds to sleep on, but he also gets two meals a day, quite literally handed to him on a plate.
“Yeah, right, you scraggy mutt,” I sneer at him. “Typical bourgeoisie, living off the sweat of the workers, but never actually lifting a claw to do any of the manual work yourself.” But Southpaw just ignores me, choosing not to dignify me with a response, it seems. “Well, your time will come, don’t you worry,” I mutter, half under my breath.
In return, I get what I can only describe as a snigger.
I turn my back to the moth-eaten animal, brushing my damp hair with a hairbrush that, thankfully, some previous occupant had left behind. I loosen my towel and step into my freshly washed panties.
Thank God I’d had that spare pair in my backpack. I’ve made do with oversized borrowed T-shirts, socks, and hoodies from the guys. Their pants were all ridiculous on me, so I’ve stuck to my combats, and it’s the same with their boxers—though frankly I didn’t really fancy going around in hand-me-down underwear anyway.
Of course, none of the men are even close to my shoe size. That means I’m limited to just my hiking boots for outside. For inside, I’ve borrowed a pair of Toby’s old slippers that I can just about shuffle around in without tripping ass-over-tits everywhere, if I’m careful. Thankfully, it’s all on one floor, because I don’t think I’d risk stairs in them.
For me, bras are not an issue, even though I only have the one I was wearing when I arrived. I’m not over-blessed in the boobs department, so it simply doesn’t really matter too much if I go without for a few days. Except, of course, for the looks on the men’s faces if I’m out in just my T-shirt and it rains. That’s simple to deal with, though. I just stare right back until they blush and look away. Well… all except Toby. He just widens his grin and gives me one of his lascivious winks, the pervert. Not that I mind, if I’m truly honest.
And that’s kinda the problem.
It’s a problem I’ve been putting off for too long, but this morning I’m going to face it head-on. I can’t wait any longer. I have Luke hating my guts and wishing me elsewhere. I’ve got Eric in love with me. I’ve slept with the brothers Jack and Toby, and it changed my life. To cap it all, I have the leader of the eco-activist group I pledged my support to asking me to repeat my mission in a few days’ time, so he can come along with his film crew in his helicopter and film it.
The cell phones are still off, and the local radio station is saying they’re not expecting all the towers back up for at least another week, if not longer. This means I can’t talk to KillClimate Change’s leader, Tim. It also means I can’t WhatsApp any of my friends to talk things through and ask for advice.
Honestly, I’ve never felt so alone in my life.
But that’s not true either—because if I’m really honest, I’d say I’ve never felt so loved, welcomed, and supported in my life. Even Luke, in his way, has been nothing but helpful. It was he who rescued me the first time, in the storm. It was he who washed my wounds and bandaged my sprained ankle. It was he who went out to search for my backpack and got me back my phone and my wallet. He even made me my crutch, though I don’t really need it anymore, thank Christ. Of course, it was he who—with Jack—went up the mountain to look for me and carried me in his arms, all the way back down again after I’d hit my head and knocked myself out.
So no, not alone. Just… confused.
So… the big question. How do I feel about everything?
No hiding. No lying. I need to have a grown-up conversation with myself, so I can work out what to do.
Well… how do I feel?
First things first. Kill Climate Change. How do I feel about that, now I’ve been here just a little short of two weeks, sleeping with the enemy, as it were?
Well, in truth, I now see things vastly differently than before I came here. My understanding has evolved. If I’m honest, I’ve completely changed my mind on some things, and on others… well, let’s just say I’m now seeing shades of gray where previously I could only distinguish black or white. Most importantly, I no longer consider McKenzie Forestry Services to be “the enemy.” In fact, quite the opposite. I consider ethical, law-abiding forestry companies like them to be part of the hard-working backbone of American industry that has made America what it is today.
