Page 6 of Eco-Activist’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #4)

Luna

O h sweet Jesus… what have I got myself into?

I can’t walk because of my ankle, and I can barely hold anything because of my wrist. My backpack is gone—which means my wallet and phone are gone too—and I’m miles from civilization, stuck in some goddamned dormitory with a bunch of chainsaw-wielding Neanderthals and their oversized pet mammoth.

Even the mammoth seems to hate me. It’s sprawled across the bed—my bed—right now, its huge yellow eyes fixed on me like it’s plotting my demise.

I tried shooing it away earlier, and I swear the fucking thing laughed at me.

Rolled its eyes, too. Well… maybe it was a yawn, but it sounded like a laugh.

Either way, it didn’t move, so I guess I’m stuck with it.

It takes me thirty minutes to get dressed, and I only screamed twice.

Well, fine—yelped. But I wanted to scream.

The pain’s no joke. I tried to keep quiet, though, in case my Adonis came back.

What was his name again? Oh, right, Toby.

Nice name. Wonderful muscles. That grin.

And those eyes… a girl could get lost in eyes that blue.

Maybe just one tiny scream, loud enough to bring him running back?

No, Luna! You’re here to screw with their logging business, not to screw them.

…But couldn’t I do both?

What’s the harm, really? It’s not like I’m marrying the guy. He seems genuinely nice—charming, considerate, and, Jesus, ridiculously sexy. At this rate, I’m going to need another shower; my panties are practically soaked again, and I only just put them on. Damn it.

And now my stomach growls like an angry bear. Of course—I haven’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. No wonder I’m dizzy.

Where did Toby say the kitchen was? Right—turn left out this door, then it’s the next on the right. He told me to call him, and yes, I’m tempted, but I don’t want to look helpless. If I take it slow, leaning on the wall with my good hand, I should be able to hop on my good foot.

Sounds like a plan. Time to find food.

“And you can stay here all you like, you… you… hairy monster.”

The wolf just flicks its gaze at me, bored, then lazily goes back to scratching behind its ear.

I’ve made it!

Although I doubt too many people would be all that impressed with a twenty-four-year-old woman managing to hop a few steps down a corridor.

Nevertheless, it feels like progress. I smile to myself.

It’s been a few years since I’ve been that pleased with myself just for being able to walk four paces without falling over.

I guess the last time would’ve been when I was what…

ten months, maybe a year old? Something like that. I’m no baby expert.

I open the kitchen door and quite literally hop in.

“Well, well, well, if it’s not Hopalong Cassidy. Come and take a seat.” Toby’s standing by the kitchen sink, peeling and chopping potatoes into a huge, battered saucepan that looks like it’s seen better days. I know how it feels.

I hop around the doorframe, then grab the table edge as I shuffle to the nearest chair before collapsing into it with a small squeak of pain when I manage to knock my wrist on the tabletop.

“We definitely need to fix you up with crutches, or a walker, or something.”

I brighten up at hearing this.

“Great, thanks. I didn’t realize you had any.”

“Er… no, we don't. Sorry. We used to, but someone er… walked off with them, ironically.”

“Oh, I see. You're just making a joke. At my expense. Well, ha ha ha. Basically, I’m screwed, then, is that what you’re saying?”

“Not necessarily. Luke’s a real woodsman. Ain’t nothing he can’t make out of the stuff. Give him a piece of timber and a few tools, and he’ll make you pretty much anything short of a laptop computer or a pastrami sandwich on rye bread.”

“Speaking of food…?” I tilt my voice upward in a question.

“Hungry, eh? Yeah, you must be starving by now. You haven’t eaten since your fall, have you?

” I shake my head. “Okay, well these spuds are for later, and we all had breakfast a couple hours ago, but why don’t I make you a nice, toasted BLT on rye bread, with plenty of mayo…

or ranch if you prefer. How does that sound? ”

“I’m a vegan.”

“Oh yes, of course you are. I should’ve guessed. Stupid of me.”

“What do you mean?” I don’t like the tone of his voice. Is he trying to insult me?

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” He holds out his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s just that with the pink hair and the eco-warrior banner and all… I should’ve known you’d be a vegan too.”

“It’s eco-activist, not eco-warrior, actually. What’s wrong with being an eco-activist anyway? Or with being a vegan? Meat is murder, or haven’t you heard?”

“What?” He hoots. “Meat is murder? I don’t think so. Killing people is murder—or at least it is if you do it illegally and maliciously. But killing animals? That’s not murder.”

I open my mouth to give him a lecture about how veganism is the only ethical way to live, not just because it prevents killing animals, but also because of its sustainability for the planet.

But then I close it again. There’s a time and a place, and after all, he and his friends did just save my life, and he has been very helpful since, what with the bathroom trip and all.

Instead, I meekly ask if there’s anything else I can eat.

“Hm… not much… what about Cheerios? We got loads of Cheerios.”

“With milk?”

“Yes, of course with milk.” He looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“But I’m a vegan. I don’t drink cow’s milk. Neither would you if you knew what’s in it. Do you realize they inject the stuff with growth hormones? It’s not good for humans. Do you have any almond milk, or soy milk maybe?”

“Nope, just the regular cow stuff. It’s that or nothing, sorry.”

He doesn’t look particularly sorry. Smug bastard.

“Well… what about some other kind of sandwich then? Just not bacon?”

"Ham?"

"Obviously not."

"Oh, yes, sorry. Well, tuna, then?"

"Now you're deliberately being stupid."

"No, I'm not. I know plenty of people who eat fish but not meat."

"Well, I'm not one of them. I'm vegan. That means no animal products. Ever."

"Those boots you were wearing. They were leather."

I blush red. He's right. I'd tried really hard to find some decent hiking boots that used man-made materials, but the only ones the outdoor store stocked were really uncomfortable, and looked like they'd fall apart after a week, so I'd had to go with a leather pair.

"I was forced to buy them. If I'd had a choice, I would have chosen manmade fabrics, okay?"

"Okay, okay, sure," he smiles at me. "You're a vegan, and okay, whether or not I think it's a good idea or a dumb one—and I'll let you decide on that—I respect that it's your choice, alright?"

I sigh. It's about as good as I'm going to get. I nod.

"So… do you have anything I can eat?"

He rummages around in the fridge. "Just the BLT stuff. Here's a tomato that looks edible," he says. "And some lettuce. Oh… there's some cheese… do you eat cheese?"

I shake my head, sadly.

"One yummy tomato and lettuce sandwich coming up then.

Are you sure you won't have some bacon in that?

" He sees the look on my face. "No? Mayo?

Or would that be making it too interesting for you?

" He sees the look on my face. Oh yes… eggs in mayo, right?

Okay, just the tomato and lettuce then. I tell you what, I'll smuggle in a little salt and pepper, but don't worry, I won't tell anyone.

" He smiles at his pathetic joke and reaches for a bread knife.

I'm just finishing off my dull but fully vegan sandwich and a steaming cup of strong, black coffee—no almond milk, sadly—when we hear the sound of heavy boots, and the outside door opens, letting in a strong breeze and the scent of pine before it slams shut again.

The man who steps inside appears to be an older version of Toby.

He starts in surprise when he sees me sitting at the table, then he quickly recovers and steps further into the room.

"Hi," he says, holding out a hand to shake. "My name's Jack—Jack James—and I'm the guy in charge here, for my sins. I see you've already met my brother, Toby. Good, good. How are you? Badly hurt? And what's your name, by the way? I don't think I know what to call you yet, do I?"

Luckily, it's my left wrist that's injured, so it's not my bad hand that he shakes. Even so, I wince at the strength of his grip. Ye Gods… doesn't he realize he's gripping a girl, not an axe handle? But I manage not to yelp or wince, and I force a smile onto my face.

"Hi, Jack, my name's Luna Wildchild?—"

"L U N A, not looney, and Wildchild as in Wild and Child, but put together," Toby interjects, smiling helpfully.

"Shut up, Toby, and let the girl speak." Good. At least there's someone who'll keep him in his place. "So, how badly are you injured? Are you able to walk at all, er… Luna?"

"I think I must have badly sprained my right ankle. It's very painful when I put any weight on it."

"Yeah, bro. She can barely walk. Has to hop. I was thinking… could we get Luke to maybe make her a crutch, or a walking stick, or something? She's really struggling."

"Hmm… good idea, Toby. I'll talk to him. Meantime, you're welcome here, Luna. Has Toby told you the news?"

"What news?" I'm puzzled.

"The news about the storm?"

"No, what about it?" Storms happen all the time. What's he on about?

"Ah! Well, of course, you were unconscious for most of it, and I don't suppose you've been outside at all. Basically, they're saying it's the worst storm in something like fifty years or more."

"What?"

"Yep. Trees are down everywhere. Cellphone towers are out. Roads are closed. No one's going to work. People killed, people injured. Rescue workers are trying to reach the worst-hit places."

"Shit… you're kidding."