Page 30 of Eco-Activist’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #4)

Eric grins like it’s Christmas. Jack pours beers. Luna slides a tray of cinnamon apples out of the oven. Suddenly, it’s not loggers versus activists anymore. It’s just five people sharing food, drinking beer, not fighting. Feels… like family.

And for tonight, I don’t even mind that there’s not a sausage in sight.

Not yet.

I catch Luke’s eye and give him a quick wink. He nods once, barely moving, and taps the side of his nose. Our sausage pact is still alive.

Then Luna pipes up, bright as a sparkler: “Since it’s Friday night, how about a game?”

Silence.

“A game?” Jack echoes, wary.

“What, like blackjack?” I ask. “Texas hold ’em?”

“No! Not dumb cards. Something fun.” She taps her lip, thinking. “Yes! Charades.”

“Sha-what?” I frown.

“Oh, come on. Everyone’s played Charades.”

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Never heard of it.”

She gawks. “None of you has ever played Charades?”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking of Shot Roulette?” I ask. “That’s where you line up shot glasses on a roulette wheel?—”

“No, Toby! Not Shot Roulette, you cultureless heathen.” She sighs like a saint saddled with sinners, then goes on to explain the rules: mime out a title, no words, just gestures. Whoever guesses goes next. No winner. Just for fun.

“For fun?” I repeat, scandalized.

“Yes, Toby. F-U-N. Fun.”

“So… when do we start drinking?”

“You don’t. And if you don’t start washing dishes, I’ll torch your disgusting beer-mat collection.”

“They’re an important part of American culture.”

Even Luke snorts at that, so I head for the sink, defeated. “Yes, ma’am.”

We clear up and push the chairs back, then Luna claps her hands like a drama teacher. “Okay, apes. I’ll go first, so I can teach you how it works.”

“Do we need safety goggles?” I mutter.

She ignores me and mimes an old-fashioned movie camera.

"Okay, it's a movie." Jack grunts, unimpressed.

"And a song," adds Eric as Luna goes on to act out singing.

Then she holds up four fingers.

“Four words!” Eric shouts.

She nods, then holds up one finger

"This means I'm going to act out the first word now," she explains.

"Okay."

She makes the shape of the letter T by placing one of her index fingers on top of the other.

"Er… Timeout?" I suggest.

"If anyone does this, it means the word they are miming is 'the"', she says.

"The" is the first word. Okay, got it, says Eric, who seems to be enjoying the game immensely."

Luna now holds up two fingers.

"Aha," I say. "You are now going to act out the second word for us."

She nods and smiles. Then she cups a hand to one ear and dramatically acts out someone listening.

"You're listening?" She indicates we're in the right area with her hands.

"You're hearing?" Again, in the ballpark but not exactly the word we're looking for.

She mimics hearing different things from various parts of the room.

"Different sounds?" Asks Luke. She smiles, nods a yes, and encourages him to shorten what he has said.

"Sounds?"

"Shorter than 'Sounds'"? Another nod from Luna

"Sound?" A big grin and a thumbs up tell us we're on track.

"So," Eric summarizes. It's "The Sound, something, something"

Luna puts out three fingers.

"Third word," we all chorus.

She uses her thumb and index finger to make the universal symbol for "small" and says, "This means it's a small word. When you see that, it means you can just run through small words like and, it, of, etc, until you hit on the correct one."

"But isn't that cheating?"

She shrugs. "It's how they play it, so I guess not."

"In. On. And. Is. So." Eric is steadily going through his personal dictionary of short words, eventually trying "Of." This gets an immediate reaction from Luna, who touches her nose, then points to Eric.

"This means Eric just got it on the nose," she smiles in encouragement at us.

"Okay, so where are we?" I ask, having slightly lost the thread.

Luke butts in to explain. "It's a four-word title for a song and a movie, and it's called The Sound of Something."

“The Sound of Music!” Jack states it at exactly the same moment I yell the answer out.

“Ha! See, I’m not totally uncultured.” I'm actually quite pleased with myself for getting it.

"Yeah, you did well, all of you. I'm proud of you, boys," she tells us. "Jack, why don't you have a go?"

We all cheer as Jack reluctantly rises to his feet, looking mighty embarrassed out in front of us all.

"Remember," says Luna. "You have to think of the name of a movie, or a book, or a TV show, or something, then you're gonna tell us how many words are in the title, then you're gonna act it out for us to guess. Got it?"

He nods, his face deadly serious, like he's taking part in some kind of life-and-death military exercise, rather than merely playing a parlor game in the kitchen with his buddies.

After a moment or two of thinking, Jack brightens—he's thought of something. He holds out three fingers.

"Three words," Says Eric.

He mimes a TV screen.

"TV show," Eric announces.

Jack then points to Luke, flexes dramatically, and makes the universal gesture for ‘guns' with his biceps.

"Strong," Luke says.

"Man?" Eric tries.

"Muscle idiot?" I suggest, raising an eyebrow.

Jack points at Luke again and nods like he's close. Then he punches the air and mimes a fake explosion sound, but uses his mouth.

"Hey!" Luna shouts. "NO NOISES!"

Jack throws his hands up. "Sorry, sorry."

He mimes a mustache. Then flips an invisible cape. Then points to his head and makes jazz hands.

Eric squints. "Magician? Wizard? He-Man?"

Luna groans. "That's not even three words!"

"The A-Team," Jack finally whispers under his breath when no one gets it.

"Sorry. I can't mime B.A. Baracus. I guess it's harder than it looks."

"You're lucky you're hot," Luna mutters. "'Cos you ain't got imagination worth a fart."

Eric steps up next, pushing up his imaginary sleeves like he's going into battle. "Okay. You ready?"

He holds up four fingers. "TV show."

Then he just… stands there.

And stares at us.

Nothing happens.

Luna frowns. "You gonna start, or just use The Force on us?"

Eric waves his arms vaguely like a snake, then points to the ceiling.

"Tornado!"

"Aliens!"

"Acupuncture!"

He mimes flying. Then dancing. Then what might be… someone opening a fridge?

"Is it Stranger Things?" I try.

"No," Eric says, flustered.

"NO TALKING!" Luna yells.

Eric throws his hands up and collapses onto the bench. "It was Dancing with the Stars."

"You should be banned," I say. "Forever."

Luna points to me. "Okay, smartass. Let's see what you've got."

I crack my knuckles and step into the center.

"One word. Movie."

I make a huge show of straightening my shoulders, squinting like a badass, and slowly drawing an imaginary bow.

"Robin Hood?"

"The Hunger Games?"

"Brave?"

I mime slow-motion walking. Then flexing. Then being ripped in half.

"Jesus Christ," Eric says. "Is it Rambo?"

"Gladiator?"

"No," Jack says suddenly. "Predator."

I freeze, then nod slowly.

"YES!"

I turn to Luna. "Boom. Cultureless deadbeat, my ass."

She snorts. "One lucky win doesn't mean shit. And it certainly doesn't redeem your knowledge of shot roulette."

The room dissolves into laughter. Luke's smiling too, actually smiling, Eric's stopped sulking about Dancing with the Stars, and Jack's still riding high on his A-Team glory.

And just like that, we're no longer four colleagues and a guest.

We're a family.

Goofing off. Playing dumb games. Eating chili and cinnamon apples and arguing about nothing.

It's stupid.

It's loud.

It's kind of perfect.

And I want more.