Mountain Desire (Wild Mountain Men 3)

“I wanted to go into forestry, studied it in college. I admit it was partly to spite my dad, but it’s what I love. I don’t touch a dime of his money. To me, it’s all tainted with lies.”

“And Poppy burns through it as her own way to fuck with him.”

Shane nodded. “The job came with a cabin on government land, and I took to staying there. Simpler. Quiet.”

“Can’t the paparazzi just follow you out there?”

Shane smiled. “The can and they have. But I’m allowed to carry a gun on forest service land, which gives me an advantage.”

She set her boots on the mat by the door and stood back up. “I’ll bet.” She gave him a small smile, then looked my way. In just her socks, she came over to me. Her hair was long down her back, a little staticky from the dry air.

I stood.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Sugar, you’re not the first person who’s been bothered by my time in jail.”

“I had access to all the facts, and I still jumped to conclusions.”

I appreciated her honesty, the way she owned up to her mistake.

I took her hand, which was fucking freezing from being outside, and pulled her toward the couch. I dropped onto it and tugged her onto my lap.

“This is… I can’t remember the last time I sat on someone’s lap.”

I settled my hands on the curve of her hip and the top of her thigh.

“Get used to it,” I all but grumbled. She wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

She settled in, shifting, which only made me hard. Fuck, hard-er.

She’d apologized. I needed to explain. “I didn’t tell you about my record because to me, it didn’t matter. It happened ten years ago. I may have been found guilty, but I didn’t do anything wrong. Do you want to be judged by some of the things you did years ago?”

She huffed. “Hell, no.”

“As I said on the phone, if you’re using us just for our dicks, you wouldn’t give a shit if I was an ex-con or not. You probably wouldn’t remember our names, only that we got you off six ways to Sunday.”

“That night at Poppy’s party, we said, when you know, you know,” Shane said, sitting on the coffee table right in front of us so she was surrounded. “We want you, Eve, and not for just sex. You’re more than that. We’re more than that.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I asked.

Her lips thinned.

“I go with won’t,” Shane replied, setting his hand on her other thigh. “You feel something for us, and that’s what’s bothering you.”

“You two should be detectives,” she replied, her face tipped down so all I could see was her shiny hair.

“Tell us, sugar.”

I felt her deep inhale against my chest.

“I moved to Cutthroat to start over. To find myself again.” She paused. “Let me back up so it makes more sense. My dad left when I was a kid. Just walked out one day. I barely remember him, only that he had dark hair and a mustache I thought looked like a caterpillar. My mother is bipolar. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t blame him for leaving. She’s a disaster. I just wish he hadn’t left me behind.”

“Bipolar’s tough.” I didn’t know much about it, but mental illness in a family member was hard. As a kid?

“When she took her meds, she was good. Not great, but… even. I had meals, clean clothes. She remembered to pick me up from soccer practice. Hell, she remembered I played soccer. When she went off her meds, usually when she felt good for a long stretch because she was on them, it was awful. She blamed me for my dad leaving. She yelled, was belligerent. She forgot food. Stuff like that.”