Page 35 of Bossy Mountain Daddies (Reverse Harem Mountain Daddies #3)

Skye

T he truck's engine hums beneath us as we wind our way back down the mountain, the afternoon sun painting the forest in amber light. Buck is up front with Griff and Ford and I are in the back seat. Ford’s hand is casually on my thigh and occasionally he squeezes it.

Griff's eyes occasionally find mine in the rearview mirror.

I can't remember the last time I felt this good, this complete, this utterly satiated.

"So there we are," Buck continues, "standing in Principal Wilson's office with our clothes soaking wet and reeking of fish guts."

Ford groans beside me. "How have I never heard this story before?"

"Because it's deeply embarrassing," Buck laughs. "Vanna made me swear never to tell it again."

"Well, she's not here now," Griff responds, "and I need to hear how the hell you two ended up covered in fish guts."

Buck's eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins. "It was Vanna's idea to sneak into the high school pool after hours. Said we needed to practice for the swim meet, but really, she just wanted to use the diving board."

"That tracks," I say, imagining a teenage Vanna with the same determined glint in her eye that she has now.

"What we didn't know," Buck continues, "was that the fishing club had been cleaning their catch in the maintenance room sink that afternoon. They'd left all the guts and heads in a big bucket."

"Oh no," I laugh, already seeing where this is heading.

"Oh yes," Buck confirms. "Vanna decides she's going to do a double backflip off the high dive. She does it and starts shit-talking me as soon as she gets out of the pool. So I grab the bucket that’s right there next to me, don’t bother to look in it and end up dumping fish guts all over her head, thinking I’m just dumping water on her. "

Ford is already laughing hard enough that he has to wipe his eyes. Griff's shoulders shake as he drives.

"Fish guts everywhere. All over her, all over me when I try to help her. And of course, that's exactly when the night janitor walks in." Buck's whole body shakes with laughter at the memory. "Poor old guy nearly had a heart attack. Thought we were bleeding from the head."

By the time we pull into the Devil's Pass parking lot, we're all laughing so hard it hurts. Buck finishes the story as Griff parks.

"So Principal Wilson is interrogating us the next day.

We came up with some ridiculous excuse for why we were in the pool at night and he says with the straightest face, 'I've heard some fishy excuses in my day, but this takes the cake.

'" Buck delivers the punchline with perfect timing, and I'm doubled over, tears streaming down my face.

We stumble out of the truck, still caught in the aftershocks of laughter. Buck wraps his massive arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"Vanna got detention for a month," he finishes against my ear. "I got two months because I called the principal 'Willy' to his face when he was lecturing us."

That sets off another round of laughter as we stand in the warm afternoon sun, my back against Buck's chest, Ford and Griff grabbing our bags from the truck bed.

Then, like a cloud passing over the sun, everything shifts.

"Well, isn't this cozy."

The voice cuts through our laughter like a knife. I freeze in Buck's arms, my blood turning to ice as I look up to see Daniel leaning against his car, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is a mask of disgust, eyes darting between the four of us with cold calculation.

Buck's arms tighten protectively around me, but I barely notice. All I can think is he's seeing us together. All of us. Together.

"Daniel," Griff acknowledges, his voice suddenly tight. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon."

Daniel's eyes narrow as they land on me, still wrapped in Buck's embrace. "Clearly," he says, voice dripping with contempt. "I left a message on your phone but didn’t hear back from you."

"What are you doing here?" Griff asks, stepping forward slightly, positioning himself between Daniel and us.

My mind races with panic. Daniel's social media post about me and Griff was humiliating enough.

What will he say now that he's seen me with all three of them?

The thought of him exposing this to everyone we know makes my stomach turn.

I can already see the cruel comments, the laughing emojis, the judgment.

"We need to talk," Daniel says to Griff, ignoring me completely. "It's important. About Mom."

Something in his tone must register with Griff, because his posture changes slightly. "Let's go inside," he says, nodding toward the bar.

Daniel pushes off his car, and as he passes by us, his eyes lock with mine. "Three for the price of one," he mutters. "Classy as always, Skye."

I flinch like I've been slapped. Ford steps closer to me, his hand touching the small of my back as Daniel and Griff disappear into the bar.

"Don't let him get to you," Ford says quietly.

"Too late," I whisper, my voice small. "He's going to post about this. Everyone will know."

Buck turns me in his arms, tilting my chin up. "So what if they do? You haven't done anything wrong."

"You don't understand," I say, pulling away slightly. "People are cruel. They'll?—"

"Fuck what people think," Buck interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. "Anyone who'd judge you for being happy isn't worth your time."

I want to believe him, but the knot in my stomach won't unravel. "I’m gonna go in," I say, nodding toward the bar.

Inside, I see Griff and Daniel at a corner table, their heads bent close in conversation. The bar is empty this early in the afternoon, giving their hushed voices an eerie echo in the quiet space.

I hesitate, not wanting to intrude but desperate to know what's being said. I’ve met Daniel’s mom several times and she’s a good person. Has something happened to her?

Ford and Buck have followed me in, their presence at my back a comforting weight.

"...just need enough to cover the medical bills," Daniel is saying, his voice strained. "She can't work right now, and the insurance is fighting her on everything."

"How bad is it?" Griff asks, running a hand through his hair.

Daniel looks down at the table. "Bad. The fall broke her hip in three places. She needs surgery, rehab, the works. She's too proud to ask you herself."

"Jesus," Griff mutters. "Why didn't she call me?"

Daniel's laugh is bitter. "Are you serious? After everything?"

I watch Griff's face cycle through emotions—surprise, concern, guilt. "She's still the mother of my child," he says finally. "Of course I'll help."

The tension in Daniel's shoulders eases slightly. "Thank you," he says, and he sounds genuinely grateful.

Their conversation continues, but I turn away, not wanting to eavesdrop on what feels like a private family matter. The bubble of perfect happiness from our mountain getaway has burst, reality crashing back in with all its complications.

As I head upstairs to my room, I can't shake the cold dread that follows me. Daniel knows about all of us now. It's only a matter of time before everyone else does too.

I absently wipe the same spot on the bar counter for the third time, my mind replaying Daniel's disgusted face in the parking lot. It's been five hours since he left after his conversation with Griff, but I can't shake the feeling of exposure, of violation.

The few customers scattered around the bar tonight seem to sense my mood, keeping their drink orders simple and their small talk to a minimum. I'm grateful for the space to breathe, but the quiet only gives my anxiety more room to echo.

"You're going to wear a hole in that counter," Vanna says, sliding up beside me with a stack of clean glasses.

I startle, nearly dropping my rag. "Sorry. Just making sure it's clean."

She gives me a look that says she's not buying it. "That spot was clean ten minutes ago when you wiped it the first time. And the second time. And now the third."

I sigh, tossing the rag into the sink behind the bar. "Just distracted, I guess."

The bar is unusually quiet for a Tuesday night.

Only a handful of regulars occupy the tables—a couple of older men playing chess in the corner, a woman drinking a beer while reading a paperback, and Reynolds, who's been nursing the same club soda for an hour.

No sign of Griff, Buck, or Ford. They must be in the kitchen.

Vanna leans against the counter, crossing her arms. "This about Daniel showing up today?"

I shouldn't be surprised she knows. News travels at the speed of light in Flounder Ridge. "How did you hear about that?"

"Buck told me."

Of course he did. I twist a strand of hair around my finger nervously. "It's just... the way Daniel looked at all of us. Like we were scum of the earth."

"And?" Vanna prompts, clearly sensing there's more.

"He already posted about me and Griff on social media when he was up here before." The words tumble out in a rush. "Made me look like some desperate slut who jumped from son to father. What's he going to say now that he's seen me with all three of them? Everyone I know back home will think I'm?—"

"Does it matter what they think?" Vanna interrupts, her eyebrows raised.

"Of course it matters," I say, my voice rising slightly before I catch myself. "These are people I have to see again eventually. Friends, former colleagues. They're already laughing at me because of what he posted before."

Vanna's quiet for a moment, her expression softening. "Look, these three are good men. The best I know. But they've been hurt before."

Something in her tone makes me stop. "What do you mean?"

She glances around the bar, then lowers her voice. "You're not the first, you know. They’ve shared someone before."

My stomach drops. I knew that, of course. Buck had mentioned they'd "had practice" the first time we were all together. But hearing Vanna confirm it makes it more real.

"Her name was Miranda," Vanna continues. "She came to town about three years ago. Photographer from Seattle, taking pictures of the mountains for some magazine." Her mouth twists. "Beautiful. Talented. Had all three of them wrapped around her finger within a month."

I try to keep my face neutral, but something must show because Vanna's eyes narrow slightly.

"They were happy," she says. "All four of them. It was weird at first for everyone in town, but people got used to it. They were discreet, respectful. And Miranda—she seemed to genuinely care about all of them."

"What happened?" I ask, though a part of me doesn't want to know.

Vanna's eyes cloud. "She got pregnant. Of course they didn’t know whose baby it was, and none of them cared. They were all excited, making plans." She takes a deep breath. "Then at four months, she lost the baby."

"Oh god," I whisper, a hand going to my mouth.

"It was bad," Vanna says, her voice dropping lower.

"She fell into a deep depression. The boys did everything they could—took time off work, took care of her, gave her space when she needed it.

" She shakes her head. "Then one day, they woke up and she was gone. No note, no goodbye. Just... vanished."

The weight of the story settles over me. I imagine Griff, Buck, and Ford waking to find the woman they loved—the mother of their child—gone without a trace.

"They were devastated," Vanna continues.

"Griff wouldn't talk for days. Buck started knitting those baby hats as some kind of.

.. I don't know, therapy maybe. Ford buried himself in books.

" Her eyes fix on mine, suddenly intense.

"It took them a long time to get past it.

A long time before they'd even look at another woman the way they look at you. "

The implication hangs in the air between us.

"What I'm saying is," Vanna says finally, "I care about those boys. They're my family. And I hope to hell you're not going to do to them what Miranda did."

Her words hit hard. "I wouldn't?—"

"Maybe not intentionally," she cuts me off. "But your car's getting fixed. You'll have the means to leave soon. And I see the way you flinch when you think about people finding out about your relationship. The way you’re worried about Daniel telling people."

I open my mouth to respond, but the door to the bar swings open, cutting off whatever I was about to say. Jed strolls in, his hands blackened with grease despite an obvious attempt to clean them. He slides onto a stool, his weathered face breaking into a grin.

"Evening, ladies," he says. "Beer please, Vanna. The good stuff, not that piss water you serve the tourists."

Vanna rolls her eyes and grabs a bottle from beneath the counter.

"And guess what, Skye?" Jed continues, turning to me. "That part finally came in. Poppy's all fixed up and purring like a kitten. You can pick her up tomorrow."

The news should thrill me. After weeks of being stranded in Flounder Ridge, my car is fixed. I can leave. Continue on my way to Charlotte's. Get back to my real life.

Instead, all I feel is a hollow pit in my stomach.

"That's... great," I manage, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. "Thanks, Jed."

He launches into details about the repair, but I'm barely listening.

All I can think about is Vanna's story, the pain these men experienced when Miranda left.

All I can see is the choice looming before me now that my car is fixed: stay in this complicated situation, or leave and risk breaking their hearts all over again.

For the first time since I arrived in Flounder Ridge, the thought of leaving feels wrong. But staying? That terrifies me even more.