Page 2 of Mountain Man Claimed (Hard Timber Mountain Men #4)

“Not according to most folks in town,” I muttered.

The Ex-List had been a thorn in my side for weeks now.

Some anonymous asshole’s rundown of Hard Timber’s most “dangerous” bachelors had blown up, and people couldn’t stop talking about it.

At least the other guys on the list got good nicknames. Not like The Butterfly.

Dane Thorne, The Butterfly. He’s the Thorne brother least likely to stay put.

All easy charm and restless energy, he’s a man who treats commitments like gym towels to use once and toss aside.

Ask around town and you’ll hear the same story…

He starts fast, burns hot, and moves on before the dust settles.

Women. Work. Wild ideas. Nothing seems to hold him for long.

Fun? Absolutely. Dependable? Not a chance.

If you want a fling, he’s your man. If you want a future, look anywhere else.

Even thinking about it made my gut simmer with anger.

“Well, I know better.” Nellie patted my arm, pulling me out of my head. “You’ve only been open a few months, but I’ve already seen how you show up for people. That counts, Dane.”

“Try telling that to Sergeant March in there.” I nodded toward the building. “She’s coming to inspect the site tomorrow. I’m pretty sure she’ll find every reason to shut down my plans.”

“That girl…” Nellie shook her head. “She’s not as hard as she seems. Just cautious. Life hasn’t been especially kind.”

That caught my attention. “What do you mean?”

Nellie gave me a sad look. “It’s not my story to tell, but there’s more to her than color-coded files and frowns.”

I snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Hmm.” Nellie studied me.

“What?”

“You care about what she thinks.” Her lips curved into a knowing grin.

“Don’t go getting any ideas, Nellie. The only thing I care about is that she’s standing between me and my pickleball courts,” I said, but even I could hear the defensive edge in my voice.

“Of course,” Nellie said, her eyes full of innocence. “Well, I’m off to pay my water bill. And Dane?”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes the ones who put up the highest walls have the most worth protecting behind them.” With one last smile, she continued up the steps, leaving me staring after her.

I shook my head and headed down Main toward The Woodshed.

Nellie was just being Nellie. As the town’s self-appointed matchmaker, she saw the potential for romance everywhere.

But the thought of her trying to put me and Rowan March together?

That was the funniest damn thing I’d heard all week.

Rowan was all rules and order. I was the guy who’d built a climbing wall in my living room because I got bored one weekend.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering what Nellie meant about life not being kind to Rowan. Was there a story behind the thick glasses and frosty attitude? And why did I suddenly care?

My phone buzzed, pulling my attention away from Rowan. My brother Holt was checking in.

Holt: Did you get approval?

Me: Working on it. Mrs. Murphy’s out, and I’m dealing with Rowan.

His reply was immediate.

Holt: March? Good luck with that. She’s immune to you.

Me: We’ll see.

I pocketed my phone as The Woodshed came into view.

The paint stood out against the weathered storefronts around it, and the inside still smelled like new rubber mats and fresh wood.

Some people said I’d get bored and leave it half-finished.

I was determined to prove them wrong. A climbing wall, weight room, and studio spaces filled the inside, and the back lot was the perfect location for pickleball courts… if I could just get past the red tape.

Harvey Gates sat on a bench outside the front door, his new cane in hand. At eighty-two, he was my oldest gym member and biggest pickleball advocate.

“Any luck, son?” he called as I approached.

“Site inspection tomorrow,” I told him. “We’re making progress.”

“Hot damn!” He slapped his thigh. “I knew you’d come through. We’ve got a whole league ready to go once those courts are built.”

His enthusiasm was exactly why I’d started this project. Harvey and his friends, aka the “Creaky Joints Club,” had been asking for pickleball courts since the gym opened. It was low-impact enough for their aging bodies but social and active enough to keep them engaged.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” I said. “The town clerk’s coming for inspection, and she’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

Harvey’s bushy white eyebrows shot up. “March? The buttoned-up gal with the frown?”

“That’s the one.”

He cackled. “Son, you’ve finally met your match. That woman’s immune to sweet talk.”

“So I’ve heard,” I muttered. “But this isn’t about seeing how thick I need to lay on the charm. It’s about giving you guys what you need.”

Harvey’s face softened. “And that’s why you’ll win her over. Because for all your nonsense, you actually give a damn.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “From your lips to Rowan March’s ears. Now come on. We’ve got work to do before she shows up tomorrow. I want that lot looking so good she can’t possibly say no.”

As we headed inside, I mentally started prepping for tomorrow’s inspection. Rowan might think she had me pegged as The Butterfly… unreliable, flighty, and not worth her time. But I was about to show her that sometimes, even a fucking butterfly can stick around long enough to make a difference.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d catch a glimpse of what was behind those walls Nellie mentioned. Despite myself, I was curious about the woman who seemed determined to see the worst in me.