Page 16 of Tabitha

I don’t care what they had for breakfast or who they are fucking.

I don’t want to know that their kid has a loose tooth or that their grandmother eats prunes.

None of it is my business.

As we wind through the dirt backroads, going higher and higher into the mountains, the air feels lighter, and it has nothing to do with the altitude. The trees and birds remind me of my youth, and I almost expect to hear my father shout for me to get my ass home for one of his lessons.

When the truck turns, I shake off my thoughts, annoyed at the distraction. We travel around the last bend in the road to reveal a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. It’s made out of logs stained a dark red, the green shingles in good repair. Two Adirondack chairs rest on the wraparound porch, the wooden structure looking like it couldn’t hold our weight.

For the area, the cabin is actually in good shape.

Then I see the outhouse and can’t resist smirking at the idea of these three city slickers using it, though, considering some of the latrines they’ve probably used over the years, maybe it doesn’t make a difference.

As the guys park, I pull up behind them, pointing the bike toward the direction we came in case we need to make a hasty exit. I remove my helmet, watching the men unfold themselves from the truck, and take a closer look at each of them.

The one called Bast is an absolute beast of a man, his black hair tinged with gray around the edges. He reminds me of the actor Idris Elba…if he had locs, thirty more pounds of solid muscle, broader shoulders, a couple of inches in height, and such light amber eyes that they almost seem like a predator is staring back.

The grumpy one emerges next—Gage. He has the serious, sexy nerd look down pat. His dark, sandy brown hair is fashioned like a messy fringe cut a couple of weeks past its expiration. His black glasses are blocky and a little clunky, but it works for his lean face and scruffy five o’clock shadow. The lenses do nothing to hide the sharp intelligence in his bright green eyes.

“Rocky, come.” He snaps his fingers, summoning his dog, then heads toward the house without sparing us a glance.

Rude!

And I don’t know why, but I secretly like his attitude.

River jumps out last, slimmer and shorter than the others. He reminds me of a treasure hunter in one of those mummy movies. He’s clean-shaven with a strong jaw. His hair is short in the back, but it’s longer on top, flopping over his brows a little. Though he acts like an energetic puppy on steroids, his dark brown eyes reveal a darkness that warns of danger, and I can’t get over the impression that his soul is almost completely black.

I should probably be wary of his darkness, but instead of shying away, I find myself curious to explore it. There is a definite swagger to his steps as he saunters toward us, a certain glint in his brown eyes as he stares at me, like I’m the only thing in his world.

It should unnerve me—I hate being the center of attention—but there is a playfulness to him that invites me to get into mischief with him.

He comes to a stop in front of me, halting just out of reach, like he senses danger and knows better than to get too close. He casually waves to the cabin behind him without taking his eyes off me. “Welcome to base camp.”

A heavy arm slips around my waist, and I’m tugged backward, landing hard against Pierce’s chest. Despite days on the bike, he still smells of fresh evergreens and Christmas. I’m so distracted that I do nothing for a second, leaving him time to lean down and kiss the corner of my mouth.

He pulls away before I can deck him, nodding toward the others with a congenial smile. “I’m Pierce.”

As I scramble to gather my wits, Pierce threads our fingers together and hauls me toward the cabin before I can drop him on his ass. Instead, I either have to scramble after him or be pulled off my feet.

I growl under my breath, knowing exactly what the shithead is doing.

Fucking staking his claim.

The asshole is determined to pose as my lover, even after I strictly told him no.

As we head toward the cabin, I try to tug my hand free, but I’m caught like a bear in a trap, leaving me no choice but stomp up the steps after the conniving dickhead.

Darkness swallows me whole as I’m dragged into the cabin. If possible, it’s even tinier inside, and I’m not sure how three grown men can live in such a cramped space without going all homicidal on each other. There are honest-to-goodness bunk beds and a couch for sleeping. The table has only two chairs. The stove has only two burners.

With all five of us in the space, I can practically feel them all breathing on me, and I repress a shudder.

To make matters worse, Pierce pulls me close, snuggling up against my back.

And I can’t even protest, because where is he to go?

I cast a look around the bare walls, grimacing when the wooden floors creak under our combined weight, and flash the guys a wry smile. “Cozy.”

Bast snorts, River tosses back his head and laughs, while Gage just grunts and takes a seat on the bottom bunk. Rocky doesn’t even hesitate to join him, making himself comfortable by stealing the pillow and shooting me sad dog eyes.

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