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

Toby

S o… that’s the pink-haired eco-warrior girl Luke brought back, huh? Good find, my man—and well done, Southpaw, for spotting her first. I’m always glad when we get visitors; it breaks up the dull monotony of forestry work and maintenance. But this? This is something else. This is big news.

Female visitors are rare enough out here, but in twenty years of forestry, I’ve never come across a woman like her.

She’s… well, she’s gorgeous. Bright pink hair, baby-blue eyes, a button nose just slightly upturned, soft, kissable lips, and a petite but toned, athletic body.

Mmm… just my type. I’d like to pour cream all over her and slowly lick it off.

If she lets me… and if I play my cards right, maybe she will.

In the meantime, she’s obviously going to need a crutch, or a walker, or something. I head to the kitchen, where the guys are still hanging around after the storm.

"Hey, guys, I just met our guest…." I let out a whistle. "Phew, she’s hot. I don’t suppose there were any more of them in the tree, were there, Luke?"

Luke’s at the table, drinking coffee. No one got much sleep last night with the storm raging, so now that it’s finally died down, we’re all taking it easy before heading out to assess the damage and see what repairs are needed.

The rain’s easing, the wind’s dropped, and I can even see a sliver of sunshine trying to punch through to the south.

Looks like the worst has passed, thank God.

"Anyone’s phone working?" Eric asks. He’s met with a round of head shakes and muttered "Nope"s.

"I guess the cell tower must’ve been hit," he continues.

"The radio said it was the worst summer storm in fifty years. It seems to have blown over every goddamn tree in a hundred square miles. Roads are impassable, power’s out—even some of the larger towns got hit.

Schools are closed, and the cops and fire departments are warning people to stay inside if they can, because of all the dangerous trees that are half down. "

Storms cause enough trouble while they’re happening—trees falling, power cut—but half the danger comes after, when people start slipping, crashing, or trying dumb stuff with chainsaws.

"Alright, time to check the damage," Jack says, slipping into boss mode. "Eric—food stores and workshops. Luke—check the track, see how bad it is. I’ll handle the buildings and outbuildings."

Then he turns to me, grinning. "That leaves our resident pervert."

"Ladies’ man, thank you very much."

"Whatever. Go check the vehicles. We might need to chainsaw our own way out if this mess lasts."

"What about the girl?"

"The girl?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I helped her into the bathroom to get herself cleaned up, you know, and I don’t think she can walk far. Maybe not at all. I said she could holler for me when she needed help getting back to her room or whatever."

A deep sigh from my brother. That's not like him; usually, he’s pretty stoic about this stuff.

"I can see she’s going to be trouble, isn’t she?"

"Not really, boss, she’s?—"

"That was meant to be rhetorical, Toby," Jack cuts me off. "Yes, fine, you can hang around in the kitchen doing fuck all useful while the rest of us do the work, like usual. Happy now?"

"Yes, boss. Perfectly happy, boss."

"Well, I’m glad one of us is. In fact… yeah, I can think of a way for you to be useful while you wait for our little princess to call for her footman. Wash up the breakfast dishes and peel the spuds for dinner, okay?"

It’s my turn to sigh. "Yes, boss."

"Everyone got their walkie-talkies?"

Eric and Luke nod. I don’t bother—since I’m staying put—but Jack fixes me with a stare. "Well, Toby?"

"Yeah, yeah, it’s in my pocket."

"Good. The storm’s over—or so it looks—but that doesn’t mean we’re back to normal. Everyone, take care out there, okay?"

We all nod. Then Jack turns back to me: "That goes for you, too, homeboy. Try not to burn the place down or slice your fingers off while you’re peeling spuds, alright?"

The three of them laugh as they pile out the door. I just smile and raise my middle finger. Let them sweat out there clearing storm damage. I’ll be right here, playing nursemaid to Little Miss Gorgeous…

Which reminds me—I still don’t know her name.

I’m on what feels like the seven-hundred-and-thirty-fourth spud—actually just my fifth—when I hear a shout from down the hall.

Aha… my princess awaits.

I toss the spud chunks into the pot, wipe my hands, give myself a quick once-over, and head down the hall humming, "If you want my body, and you think I’m sexy…"

We chose this particular bathroom for our lady guest because it’s the closest one to the medi-bay, and none of us guys ever use it. We figured she’d appreciate a little privacy.

When I reach the bathroom, the door’s ajar. I step inside and announce myself: "Good morrow, sweet princess. Your knight errant humbly awaits your comma—oh!"

She’s on the floor, stark naked except for a towel clutched around her hips, red-faced and teary-eyed, the very picture of misery.

"You took your sweet fucking time."

"Well, I had to finish what I was doing. What happened?"

"You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you what happened.

I took a shower, got shampoo in my eyes, groped for the towel, and that bloody werewolf of yours was sitting there.

I tripped over him and went ass-over-tits, that’s what happened.

And now I can’t get up because my ankle’s too goddamn painful to move.

" Her voice cracks, and she lets out a sob. "And… and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of motherfucking tree murderers and their goddamned pet saber-toothed tiger, and I’m tired, and I’m naked, and I just want to go home. "

I fight hard not to laugh. I do feel for her—no woman wants to be sprawled on the floor with her dignity hanging by a thread—or in this case, a not-that-large towel— in front of a stranger.

On the other hand, she looks so damned funny I can’t help but see the comic side.

Half tragic, half furious, entirely adorable.

I decide a cheerful tone might work best—it usually does. I offer her my hand.

"Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. You’ve got a towel to cover yourself, you’re nice and clean now, and Southpaw’s obviously taken a liking to you, since he’s following you around."

"Like I care."

"Well, we’re all impressed."

"What? Why?"

"Normally, he doesn’t like strangers at all.

He just ignores them. But with you? He’s actually seeking out your company.

You must have the call of the wild in you.

" I grin. She scowls, eyes sharp enough to cut me down where I stand.

Still, she takes my hand. I help her up, even turning my gaze politely away when her towel slips at the worst possible moment.

"Oops."

"Shut up." "Yes, ma'am. Now… where to? Back to your bedroom for a nice lie down? Mmm… you smell lovely. You used that apricot and vanilla shampoo, didn't you? Delicious."

"Shut up." But despite her words, the edge in her voice softens; a flicker of humor sneaks through.

"Shutting up, ma’am. Bedroom, yes?" She nods. "By the way, you never told me your name. We can hardly keep meeting like this when I don’t even know what to call you."

"It’s Luna. Luna Wildchild."

"Loony, what now?"

"No," she snaps, eyes flashing. "Not loony. Luna. L-U-N-A. Luna Wildchild, as in wild and child. Got it?"

"Luna Wildchild, huh? Wow. Who’s your daddy, Frank Zappa?"

"What? Oh! No, I wasn’t born with that name. My parents named me Laura, and my real surname’s Wilder, like Gene Wilder. But since I joined Kill Climate Change, I changed it. Needed something that better reflected who I am."

"Oh yeah. That when you dyed your hair pink, too?"

"It might have been." The glare’s back—a warning. I change the subject.

"Well, good to meet you, Luna. Good to meet all of you, in fact."

I scoop her up—light as a feather—and carry her back toward her room. Her arms curl around my neck, her skin warm from the shower, that sweet apricot-vanilla scent drifting over me. She feels soft and firm all at once in my arms, and truth be told, I don’t want to put her down.

Truth be told, what I really want to do is kiss her.