Ten Mountain Men's Baby (Love by Numbers 9)

“Where are you guys staying?” asked Owen.

I told him about the motel, and both Owen and Will protested.

“Oh, no,” said Will, “out of the question.”

“What? It’s a perfectly fine motel,” I said.

Will shook his head. “We’ve got a big beautiful cabin out by Alarka.”

“Where’s Alarka?” asked Ryker.

“Not far.” Will pointed toward the mountains. “About a thirty-minute drive.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Owen. “You guys should stay there. It’s big. It’s comfortable.”

I put my hands up, open palms out, and shook my head. “No, no, no. We couldn’t impose.”

“Impose?” said Will with disbelief. “Nonsense, we’d love to have you.” He tapped Ryker on the arm. “You can meet the others.”

“That’s awfully kind of you,” said Ryker, “but maybe…” he looked at me, and I was imploring him with my eyes to say yes; we were out on an adventure; not the time to play it safe.

“Actually, if it’s not an imposition,” said Ryker.

“Not an imposition at all,” said Will. “You’ll meet the whole gang. This is going to be great.”

As we walked to their car, I felt a soft touch on my cheek. I stuck out my hand, palm up. “Looks like we’re going to get another snowfall.” I winked at Ryker, and he winked back.14RykerI was riding in the backseat of a car, my hot new girlfriend at my side and my two older brothers in the front seats—we still needed to wait a couple of days for the DNA result to confirm, but I was already convinced they were my siblings. If not my brothers, they were at least close cousins. In any event, I had no doubt we were related.

By the time we arrived at their cabin, the snow was coming down quite hard. The cabin stood at the end of a long, winding dirt driveway cut through a sloping forest. Its slanted roof already held a layer of fluffy white snow. A stream of smoke rose from the chimney and was immediately lost amidst the snow flurry. The windows were already frosted, and the whole scene looked like an image from a winter fairy tale.

“You were right,” Holly said to Owen. “It is big. And beautiful.”

He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. “We’ve got a big family.”

“And you all live together?” she asked.

“No. Everyone has their own place now, but this’s the cabin where we can all be together.”

As we were still getting out of the car, everyone came rushing out of the cabin to greet us despite the heavy snow. The fraternal resemblance was obvious on every one of them, including on me.

I shook hands and repeated names when Will pushed his brothers back and tried to lead us inside. I felt like a rock star being ushered through a line of adoring fans.

Once inside, we shook off the snow and began the introductions anew.

Gannon and Brock, the other set of identical twins, stood a head taller than the rest. Though their facial features matched with eerie exactness, Gannon had a shaved head, whereas Brock sported short, though somewhat unruly, black hair.

Miles, the fifth in succession, looked beyond his twenty-seven years, perhaps due to his thick mustache, or perhaps it was the scythe tattoo on his forearm that made him look deceivingly like the oldest of the clan.

Shaun, only a year younger than Miles, also sported a mustache, but he set himself apart with his broad shoulders and thick arms. When he told us he worked as a lumberjack, it was easy enough to believe. His imposing, muscular physique would confirm this. He was accompanied by his wife, Doris, a bubbling blond with big hair and bracelets that rattled when she waved her hands excitedly as she talked.

I thought there were three sets of twins when I met Carson and Ted. They were both twenty-four, though Carson told me he was actually ten months older than Ted. I looked from one to the other, bewildered. “You might look more like twins than Will and Owen do,” I said.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” said Carson.

More so than their other brothers, they looked like Will and Owen, only seven or eight years younger. Ted was slightly taller, and I made a mental note: Ted begins with T like “tall.” Ted is the taller one.

Lawson was the youngest of the bunch at twenty-three, though he looked far younger. I would have given him eighteen or nineteen at the most. He had the same wide dark eyes and straight dark hair as all of us. But instead of the rigid jawline and chiseled cheeks of the rest of the family, his face was softer and rounder, accentuated by the retro mop-top haircut he was sporting.

“My goodness,” Holly uttered as she looked in awe from one to the other.

A warm wave of energy swept through me at seeing how happy she was just then. An image flashed in my mind, an image of her going to each of them and embracing them with long, sloppy kisses on the mouth as if she were embracing several iterations of me and losing herself in both the variety and the similarities offered to her.