Page 1 of My Three Mountain Men

CHAPTER1

Simone

Perched on the cushion overlooking the snow-capped hills, my manicured nail tapped over the screen for the fourth time in as many minutes. The white tip of my French manicure scrolled through my latest posts, falling back to the newest one I’d only just published.

FlyGirl is going to be impressed!I mused, my lips curling into a grin, the sticky gloss touching the top of my nose in the process.

Hastily, I wiped the product away from my nostril, wriggling the smell of strawberries out of my nasal passage. This was one of the biggest sellers yet, and rightfully so. Anything fruity was okay in my books. It roused the happy memories of childhood that some people had—even if I couldn’t fully identify with them. More importantly, it was good that my sponsor was happy with the way I was promoting the items. FlyGirl was my biggest income source, so I wanted the executives there to be happy. It was also a bonus that I liked the products I was pushing to my followers.

My gaze lifted from my phone toward the massive bay window, taking in the beauty of the winter landscape. I’d hardly had time to enjoy the serene surroundings because I had so much on my plate.

I’d been so consumed with preparations for the livestream, unpacking and setting up lighting for the broadcast, that I hadn’t even managed to take a peek at the loveliness of the Colorado resort. It was my first time in ski country, and truthfully, I had no idea how to navigate the slopes, but I was looking forward to riding up on one of those ski lifts and taking about a million selfies to post on social media while embarrassing myself with a post on TikTok. It was going to be another Simone Adventure, bought and paid for by FlyGirl Cosmetics and two point six million followers. Not bad for a twenty-five-year-old who came from nothing.

It would have been nice to enjoy it on my own for a minute, but this was what my life had become, and I couldn’t complain, not when the alternative was so dire in comparison.

I sure had come a long way.

It was difficult to believe that the little girl from a trailer park in Moab, Utah, who had never wanted to be found, was now one of America’s most trusted influencer sweethearts.

Because I’m not the same Simone from Shady Freaks Trailer Park,I reminded myself, a small grimace touching my lips at the unbidden memory, a shiver running down my spine. I shrugged it off to take in my surroundings once more. There would be none of that today—or ever again. I was exactly where I belonged.

Stretching like a contented cat, I traced a heart along the glass of the window, raising my phone to snap a photo, but before I could even open the camera, someone pounded on the door of the suite. The knock was so intense, I felt the floor vibrate beneath me.

Frowning, I stood, eying the entranceway skeptically. The knocking was rather abrasive for housekeeping. Slowly, I rose, wondering if someone had the wrong room, but as I neared the entrance, my thought was disproven.

“SIMONE!” a woman yelled, her voice muffled from the hallway. “Open the fucking door!”

Taken aback by both the tone and the unfamiliarity of the voice, I paused, alarm spiking through me. Obviously not the wrong room because she knew my name, but the volatility and strangeness of the tone took me aback.

“Who is it?” I asked, padding toward the door, my pulse quickening.

“It’s Aimee VanBuren! Open up!”

I hesitated, unsure if I should.

“I know you’re right there, Simone! Open the fucking door before I kick it in!”

Her unexplainable rage piqued my interest, and I did as she requested, blinking in dismay as the influencer stormed into my hotel room, uninvited. Scoffing, she stopped and looked around, folding her arms under her full bust, dusty rose mouth curled into a sneer of contempt. “Nice room,” she snarled as the door closed in her wake. “Did FlyGirl pay for it?”

More confusion washed over me, but I merely stared at the redhead, also folding my arms under my much smaller breasts. The height difference between us was hugely noticeable, particularly in her ire. She seemed to tower over me like a mythical creature from a fairytale, crimson hair flowing over her black turtleneck.

“What are you doing here, Aimee?” I asked. “Aren’t you from Vegas?”

She eyed me contemptuously, and I blushed. It was kind of a stupid question, but she had caught me off guard, and I didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s a free country, bitch. I can travel anywhere I want—even if you are infringing on my income.”

Her animus was stunning, and I didn’t understand it in the least. I had never even met Aimee face-to-face. Our interactions had been strictly online up until this moment—and even those had been minimal. A “like” here, a comment there.

“Yeah, of course you can,” I agreed slowly. “I… I just don’t understand why you’re here… in my hotel room.”

She advanced on me, her sneer growing, and I drew back, my heart rate quickening. I didn’t like the way she loomed over me, a dozen horrific memories resurfacing in a torrent.

“Oh? You’re going to play innocent?” she snorted. “You’re going to pretend you didn’t just swoop in and steal my sponsorship. And then my man, too?”

“What?” Blinking, I merely gaped at her. “Aimee, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“FLYGIRL IS MINE!” Aimee screeched. “THEY’RE MINE! YOU STOLE MY SPONSORSHIP!”

---