Page 62 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
I want to make love to these guys.
All of them.
Jack, with his authority and leadership, shoulders responsibility even when it breaks him.
Toby, with that endless grin, all mischief and charm on the surface, but underneath—when you see past the bravado—something softer, steadier, and surprisingly tender.
Luke, wary and hard to reach, but when he moves, when he acts, it’s with a kind of power that leaves no doubt he means every single thing he does.
And Eric—sweet, sensitive Eric—who sees me like no one else has ever seen me. Who trembles at the edges of passion but still dives in anyway.
A girl can’t always get what she wants when she wants it. But at least I know what I want. And right now, the mature thing to do—the right thing to do—is to go find Luke, thank him for rescuing me—twice—and reassure him that I won’t be involving myself in any activities that might harm his precious McKenzie Forestry Services.
“Hey, Lazy Bones.” I call across to the wolf, who opens one laconic eye in response to my voice. “Wanna come find Luke with me?”
And just like that, Southpaw’s on his feet, tongue lolling out, tail wagging, two bright eyes fixed on mine. Good. Finally, the damned animal might actually prove useful.
“Come on then, you useless great lump, find Luke for me. Where’s Luke?”
Southpaw lets out a whine and scratches at the door.
“Wanna go out, huh? Well, yes, I agree—he certainly isn’t in here. Okay, okay, learn some fucking patience, I’m getting it, aren’t I?”
I push myself off the bed, wincing only slightly as my almost-recovered ankle takes the strain, and turn the door handle.
“Go on then, you ugly mutt. You lead, I’ll follow.”
CHAPTER 20
Luke
As I work away at my ever-necessary chain-sharpening duties, readying for the next outing with the saws, my eyes drift toward the locked drawer across the shed. Inside lie those wire cutters I found near where Luna had been lying hurt. Rusty on the edges, yet almost new. A contradiction, like her.
Damned cell towers still aren’t back online. If they’d held for even twenty more minutes that night, I’d have had time to dig into this Tim Collier creep. A clean search might’ve shown nothing, might’ve painted him as some saint with a polished halo. But I doubt it. The odds of him being pure are low. Very low.
I sigh, check the angle of my file, then drag it across the teeth in a steady rhythm, shaving steel back to sharpness. Normally, the repetition calms me. Not tonight. Just for a second, my concentration slips. The file skids, and I catch my finger on the edge of a tooth.
“Ow.” I jerk my hand back, suck the blood from the nick.
That’s not me. I don’t make mistakes like this.
It’s her. That damned woman.
Ever since that night—when I looked through the window and saw the three of them tangled in each other—I haven’t had a moment’s peace. I can’t sleep. Can’t think straight. The image burns behind my eyelids whenever I close them. Luna’s small breasts, tipped pink, rise and fall as Toby holds her down. Toby’s face when she took him into her mouth. Jack’s hips driving between her spread thighs.
I stand abruptly, stool clattering behind me. My head shakes like I can rattle the pictures loose, but they stick. Worse still are the ones my own traitorous mind has supplied since. My weight presses her into the mattress. Her fingers curling in my shirt. The sound of her gasp when I push inside. Her body arching under mine, soft and wild all at once.
Enough.
There’s only one thing for it. Confession.
I need to go to her. Tell her what I saw. Tell her I’m sorry. Maybe—God help me—tell her the truth. That if she weren’t tangled up with that eco-activist circus, I’d see her differently. I’d take her seriously.
Maybe even love her.
Maybe if I speak it out loud, the torment will stop. Because this slow burn inside me—it’s killing me.
A knock comes at the door. Tentative. Before I can react, it creaks open, and a quiet voice calls, “Luke, you in there?”
