Page 9 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
He does as promised, turning his back and making an exaggerated show of covering his eyes with both hands. I grabthe robe—a gray toweling bathrobe that’s clearly seen better days—and slip it on, tying the belt tight. It’s soft against my skin and smells faintly of sandalwood, citrus, and amber.
"Alright, you can turn back."
He lowers his hands and turns, giving me a quick once-over before nodding.
"Good. How do you feel?"
"Not too bad. I’m not sure what it’s going to feel like when I stand."
"Only one way to find out, I guess. I’ll help—don’t worry, I won’t get in your way or touch you at all unless you need me." He tacks on the last part when he sees my face, probably assuming I’m about to demand privacy. Normally, I would. But right now—whether it’s the shock of the fall, the masculine scent clinging to his robe, or some deep-rooted need my therapist never dug up—my hormones feel like they’re throwing a rave. All I can think about is him scooping me into those arms and carrying me straight to his bed. But hell… I can’t exactly suggest that, can I? I’ve only just met the guy. What would he think?
I brace on the edge of the bed with my good left foot and gingerly lower my right. The moment it touches the floor, pain shoots up my leg.
"Argh!" I cry out, half whimper, half gasp. "It’s too painful."
"Okay, then let me." Without hesitation—or even waiting for me to agree—he sweeps me up, bathrobe and all, into his arms.
"Oooph!" I exclaim as my stomach flips with the sudden lift.
"The… err…" he glances at his watch, tilting me at an alarming angle. "The ten-thirty-five bathroom express is now departing platform four." He grins and heads for the door, carrying me like I weigh nothing.
Thankfully, the bathroom’s big enough for him to maneuver. He sets me gently down on my good foot, leaving me oddlybreathless from the ride. He’s not massive like Luke—his body’s more sleek, pantherlike—but the strength in him is undeniable.
"Take your time—shower, freshen up, whatever you want. There’s a towel, a toothbrush, and some other stuff we put out for you. Use whatever you need. I’ll be in the kitchen. Just holler when you’re ready for your taxi service, and I’ll come get you."
With one last grin and a wicked wink, he’s gone, closing the door behind him.
I lean against the sink, my right foot dangling, chest rising and falling too fast. My pulse pounds like a runaway train.
Phew. Are all of them going to be like him? And do I hope so… or hope not? He’s supposed to be the enemy, the bad guy—yet he’s twice as cheerful, three times as confident, and four times as helpful as any of the eco-activist men I’ve known. And at least five times better looking.
Not that looks matter, of course. I tell myself.
Yeah, right,a cynical voice in my head shoots back.So why are you panting like a bitch in heat and soaking wet between the legs?
CHAPTER 4
Toby
So… that’s the pink-haired eco-warrior girl Luke brought back, huh? Good find, my man—and well done, Southpaw, for spotting her first. I’m always glad when we get visitors; it breaks up the dull monotony of forestry work and maintenance. But this? This is something else. This is big news.
Female visitors are rare enough out here, but in twenty years of forestry, I’ve never come across a woman like her. She’s… well, she’s gorgeous. Bright pink hair, baby-blue eyes, a button nose just slightly upturned, soft, kissable lips, and a petite but toned, athletic body. Mmm… just my type. I’d like to pour cream all over her and slowly lick it off. If she lets me… and if I play my cards right, maybe she will.
In the meantime, she’s obviously going to need a crutch, or a walker, or something. I head to the kitchen, where the guys are still hanging around after the storm.
"Hey, guys, I just met our guest…." I let out a whistle. "Phew, she’s hot. I don’t suppose there were any more of them in the tree, were there, Luke?"
Luke’s at the table, drinking coffee. No one got much sleep last night with the storm raging, so now that it’s finally died down, we’re all taking it easy before heading out to assess thedamage and see what repairs are needed. The rain’s easing, the wind’s dropped, and I can even see a sliver of sunshine trying to punch through to the south. Looks like the worst has passed, thank God.
"Anyone’s phone working?" Eric asks. He’s met with a round of head shakes and muttered "Nope"s.
"I guess the cell tower must’ve been hit," he continues. "The radio said it was the worst summer storm in fifty years. It seems to have blown over every goddamn tree in a hundred square miles. Roads are impassable, power’s out—even some of the larger towns got hit. Schools are closed, and the cops and fire departments are warning people to stay inside if they can, because of all the dangerous trees that are half down."
Storms cause enough trouble while they’re happening—trees falling, power cut—but half the danger comes after, when people start slipping, crashing, or trying dumb stuff with chainsaws.
"Alright, time to check the damage," Jack says, slipping into boss mode. "Eric—food stores and workshops. Luke—check the track, see how bad it is. I’ll handle the buildings and outbuildings."
Then he turns to me, grinning. "That leaves our resident pervert."
