Page 87 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
“Go ahead,” Jack says.
I swallow. “I know I’m the most junior in terms of experience. But I want to say this: each of you is not just my good friend, but my colleague. I feel lucky to be here. Together, we can make this business greater than it’s ever been. My toast is to Mackenzie Forestry Services. May its trees grow tall and may we all find peace, happiness, and fulfillment in our work.”
“Well said, Eric.”
“Amen.”
“Damn right.”
We raise our glasses. The whisky burns smooth and smoky down my throat, and for the first time in my life, I feel not like an outsider—but like I’m home.
CHAPTER 25
Luna
Ten million dollars. In one single day.
Don’t get me wrong—I love spending money. God knows how much I’ve burned through on horses over the years. And there was a time when the whole expensive-designer-labels, being-seen-in-the-right-places scene appealed to me. I went to all the swanky venues, drank cocktails that cost more than rent in some parts of Portland, and told myself it mattered. But even at my worst, I never came close to spending ten million bucks in one day.
Yet here we are. That’s what I did when I bought both Mackenzie Forestry Services and a majority shareholding in that bastard Tim Collier’s company.
I’d thought Daddy would be furious—but no. When I called him to explain, he was practically giddy. He wanted to help. Mom’s over the moon too, though not for the same reasons. She’s just happy I’m no longer an eco-activist embarrassment. As long as Daddy keeps up her allowance so she can keep swanning around her galas and lunches, basking in the glow of being a “philanthropist” and a faded ex-actress, she’s satisfied.
Sometimes I wonder what they ever saw in each other. Penelope says it’s simple—wealth attracts beauty, beautyattracts wealth. Shallow, sure, but isn’t that just human nature? Either way, I lucked out. I got Mom’s looks and Daddy’s brains. With his guidance, running a forestry business doesn’t scare me. I mean, it’s planting and harvesting trees, right? How hard can it be?
And while we’re doing that, we can actually make the world a better place. Protect endangered species. Plant fast-growing timber crops for construction. Make sure we grow more trees than we cut down—be a net positive for oxygen and carbon capture. Not just for us, but for the planet.
Best of all, I get to do all that living in Mount Hood National Forest… with my four mountain men. My men. Not a bad trade-off. Not bad at all.
I kinda miss Southpaw, though. He’s been gone for days now. Luke and Toby swear he always comes back on his own schedule. I hope they’re right.
The only real downer right now is this headache. It’s been gnawing at me for a day and a half. Advil hasn’t touched it. And it’s not just that—my breasts feel… tender. Like, I don’t want them touched. This morning, I woke up nauseated.
And that’s when it hits me.
Wait. No.I can’t be pregnant.
I mean—sure, I’ve been sleeping with the guys. A lot. But I’m on the pill. I never, ever forget. My routine is ironclad: one pill every night before bed, without fail. It’s practically a religion.
Except—oh God.
Thereweretwo nights. That first night, when Luke rescued me. I was unconscious. Again, when I fell, up in the high walkway. Both times, I didn’t take it.
My stomach drops.
I fumble for my pill packet, spill it across the dressing table, and count. Twelve left. I should have ten.
“Shit.” My voice comes out in a whisper. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I am screwed. Utterly screwed.
And if I am pregnant, I won’t even know whose it is.
I’ve been with Eric, Luke, Jack, and Toby. I can still remember myself laughing, teasing them not to worry because I was “safe.” Safe. Ha. So clever, right? Smarter than the mountain men. And here I am, the one who couldn’t even manage a basic pill schedule. Who’s the ape now?
Panic prickles over my skin.
What do I even tell them? Who do I tell first? What if they think I planned this? What if they think I’m trapping them? What if they demand paternity tests? What if the father wants nothing to do with it?
