Page 20 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

"How ‘bout letting her answer for herself?" he asks, his hand still on the woman's arm. "What do you say, sweetheart? Let me buy you a real drink, not that fruity thing you're sipping."

The husband stands up, his stool scraping loudly against the floor. He's a good four inches taller than Reynolds, with the solid build of someone’s who’s lifted a dumbbell or two. "Take your hand off my wife. Now."

The bar quiets, conversations pausing as people sense the tension.

"Whoa, easy there," Reynolds says, raising his hands up but not backing away. "Just being friendly. No need to get all caveman on me."

The husband takes a step forward, his fists clenched. "I said?—"

"That's enough," I interject, positioning myself between them. "Reynolds, you need to go home."

Reynolds looks at me, blinking in confusion. "What'd I do?"

"You're harassing customers and making a scene," I say firmly. "You know the rules. Time to call it a night."

"Come on, Griff," he whines. "I was just talking to the lady."

"The lady isn't interested," I say, keeping my voice even.

The husband's still standing there, tension radiating from him. His wife touches his arm, murmuring something I can't hear.

Reynolds doesn't resist when I take his arm and guide him toward the door.

"I'll call you a cab."

"Don't need a cab," he grumbles. "Can walk."

He stumbles out into the night, muttering under his breath. I watch until he's down the street, headed in the direction of his trailer. Then I turn back to the couple.

"I apologize for that," I say. "Next round's on the house."

The husband nods stiffly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Appreciate it."

"Not a problem." I gesture to Ford, who's already preparing fresh drinks for them.

The bar gradually returns to its normal hum of conversation. Ford and I resume our rotation between the bar and floor. By closing time, the incident with Reynolds is all but forgotten.

As the last customers file out, Buck emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Busy night," he comments, reaching for three beers from the cooler. He pops the caps off and slides them across the bar, one for each of us.

"Thanks," I say, taking a long pull. The cold beer feels good going down my throat. "Could've used Skye tonight."

Ford settles onto a barstool, loosening his collar. "Wonder how the movie is."

"Probably terrible," Buck says with a chuckle. "Vanna loves those cheesy horror flicks."

We drink in companionable silence for a moment. I'm turning over in my mind how to bring up what's been bothering me all day. Finally, I say fuck it and just go for it.

"So," I say, setting my beer down. "We should probably talk about Skye."

Buck and Ford exchange a glance, neither looking surprised.

"What about her?" Ford asks carefully.

"About how we're all into her," I say bluntly. "And how that could get complicated."

Buck takes a big gulp of his beer. "Already is complicated, if you ask me."

"I saw you with the book today," I say to Ford. "And you with that fancy lunch," I add, looking at Buck. "Not exactly subtle, either of you."

Ford shrugs, unapologetic. "She's spectacular."

"Yeah, she is," I agree. "Which is why I don't want this turning into another Miranda situation."

The name hangs in the air between us. We almost never talk about Miranda.

"Skye's not Miranda," Buck says firmly.

"No, she's not," Ford agrees. "But that doesn't mean we couldn't still end up hurting each other if we're not careful."

I nod, relieved they understand. "Look, I like her. A lot. But she's not staying. And while she's here, I don't want to make her feel... I don't know, pressured or confused."

"Not my intent either," Buck says.

"So what are you suggesting?" Ford asks, his eyes sharp. "We all back off?"

"No," I say slowly. "I'm suggesting we be honest. With her and with each other." I take another drink, gathering my thoughts. "If she wants to spend time with one of us, or two of us, or all of us—that should be her choice. No jealousy, no pressure."

Buck raises an eyebrow. "You sure you can handle that? Sharing?"

"Can you?" I counter.

He considers this, then nods slowly. "For her? Yeah, I think I could."

"It would be different this time," Ford says. "We're different. We’ve learned a lot from the past."

"Exactly," I say, feeling a strange mixture of relief and sadness at the acknowledgment. "Plus, Jed will fix her car eventually and she’ll move on. No one gets too attached, no one gets hurt."

Buck snorts. "Bit late for that, don't you think?"

I can't argue with him there. "Maybe. But we can still handle this like adults. Be honest about what we want, what she wants."

"And what do you want, Griff?" Ford asks, his gaze direct.

I stare into my beer, searching for the right words. "I want her to be happy," I say finally. "And I think... I think maybe we all have something different to offer her."

Buck nods thoughtfully. "I can see that."

"So we're agreed?" I ask, looking between them. "We let Skye make her own choices, we respect those choices, and we don't let it come between us?"

Ford raises his bottle. "To honesty."

"To Skye's happiness," Buck adds.

I clink my bottle against theirs. "To no regrets."