Page 19 of Single Mom’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #1)

Patty

A ll the men fall instantly silent and a stab of concern shoots through me.

I glance around at their faces, wondering at their solemn expressions. Wes and Charlie in particular share a look that I can’t quite describe, although it makes me think that whatever they have to say is alarming, even more alarming than Mitch being about to fight someone.

“What is it?” I ask in the ensuing silence. “What do you have to tell me?”

Mitch sighs and rubs his scalp. His expression is still tense, although it's softer than it was just seconds ago when he faced down that man.

When Wes announced that Mitchell was about to fight someone, I thought maybe Wes was joking or exaggerating at the very least. Mitchell has always seemed to be the most in control out of the three brothers and the least likely of the three of them to get ruffled.

Even during meals, where Wes likes to make a game out of bothering his brothers, he never manages to get a rise out of Mitchell. He can annoy a snapped word out of the typically calm Charlie, but all he gets from Mitch is a droll look.

So after Charlie left with Wes, I crept out and followed them to the shed, expecting that I would simply see Mitch calmly telling the man to get off his property in his commanding drill sergeant way.

Instead, I got my first look at an angry Mitch.

And I can't lie, he really did look like he was about to wail on the little guy.

But just one look at this Banker person, and I knew he almost certainly deserved even worse than a wailing.

Do I know you? He’d said before he left.

I try to remember if I’ve ever seen him before but I’m drawing a blank.

My initial paranoid instinct is to think that maybe he knows Keegan, but we’re far enough away from Chicago that I doubt that’s the case.

Most likely I only look like someone he knows.

I’ve been told I have one of those familiar-looking faces, and perhaps he’s mistaking me for someone else.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Mitchell says finally. “We can talk there.”

“Um…okay.” I'm so confused by all this mystery, but there's nothing to do except follow as Mitch leads the way out of the workhouse. The sun is high in the sky and the yard is quiet, with the girls still at daycare.

It's their first full day without me waiting in a parking lot for them, and while part of me is anxious about not having them close, the other part knows that this change is necessary. One step in the direction of normalcy.

I was torn about the daycare thing for days, but my conversation with Mrs. Weatherby was what allowed me to take the chance.

I laid it all out, choosing to trust her because we shared a similar past. There was also something refreshingly honest about the woman, something inherently trustworthy.

I wonder if I would have noticed without Wes' vote of confidence.

But in any case, I told Mrs. Weatherby that I was on the run from my abusive husband and I didn’t want him to find me or my kids.

I didn't give any other details, but it turns out that was the right choice because she didn’t even ask any further questions after that, simply agreed to take my girls.

She held my hands and said, "Thank you for trusting me.

I swear to you we'll keep them safe." And I believe her.

Her eyes also held a silent offer, that she was ready to listen to me if I was willing to share more but I wasn't ready to share my full story yet.

Maybe in the future, but not now when everything was still up in the air.

The second thing that convinced me to try the daycare was that I thought it might be a good idea to start making some new friends in this town.

I have no other family, and Keegan alienated me from all of my other friends.

In case Keegan ever does track me down here and the unspeakable happens, I want someone to watch after my girls when I'm gone.

The kitchen door creaks a little as Mitch pulls it open. He pauses to frown at it. “Wes make sure you get some oil on the hinges when you get time,” he says.

“Aye aye captain,” Wes responds sarcastically but Mitch ignores him. The words leave an odd tension in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Is it really that bad?” I ask as I walk in taking a seat at the dining table.

"I don't think so, but bad might be relative,” Mitch says also sitting.

“The thing is,” Wes interrupts. “Remember when we were back at the grocery store and people kept staring at us?”

“Yeah,” I say .

“Well, only part of it was because of my handsomeness and natural charm.” I catch Charlie's eye roll as his brother continues. “Most of it is because we don’t have the best reputation in town."

Now, I'm extremely concerned. “Why? What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Wes rushes to assure me. “It’s just rumors and such. You know, we’re big guys, with not the friendliest of faces and we ride bikes routinely on the open road. So some might think we’re part of a biker gang.”

I frown. “Are you?”

“Does it look like we have any time to be in a gang?’ Mitch points out but his sarcasm is softened with a teasing smile. “We’re just telling you because we think you deserve to know. But we don’t ride around robbing people or causing mayhem, except for maybe Wes.”

“Hey," Wes protests.

“Our father used to be a biker when he was young. We got into bikes when we were teenagers but never rode much until recently because our mother forbade it. Now, we're just making up for lo st time. Apart from that we’re just regular guys. But it’s a small, conservative town and in those situations when they see big guys with bikes, it’s easy to jump to that conclusion. "

"Especially given what happened at Cockrey's years ago." Wes points out and Mitch and Charlie both shoot him a glare. I guess he wasn't supposed to mention that.

"What? I thought we were telling her everything."

"What happened at Cockrey's?" I ask and as Charlie continues glaring at Wes, Mitch answers my question.

"Years ago," he starts. "This was a few weeks after Wes returned from service. The day after my mother's funeral. We'd gone to the bar to have a drink and some idiots were causing trouble."

"Idiots from a legit biker gang," Wes points out and Mitch once more glares him into silence.

"They were drunk assholes shooting the shit. And then they saw us ride in on our bikes, and saw that we were the biggest guys in the bar, and mistook us for a rival gang. Thought they would make a name for themselves by taking us down. So they started poking at us. And poking. And poking."

"We should have ignored them," Wes says.

"But as Mitch said, our mom just died. We were all pretty devastated and looking to work off some steam.

So I mouthed off to them in return. That probably wasn't the smartest idea.

There were twelve of them and only three of us and quite a few of them had been to jail.

The best thing to do in that situation would have been to leave. "

"But we were spoiling for a fight," Mitch says. "And they gave us one."

"So what happened?" I ask, almost not wanting to hear this next part but curious regardless.

Mitch shrugs. "About what you'd expect. A fight breaks out.

We kick all their asses. I almost take things too far with their leader and land him in the hospital.

But no one died, and after a night spent in the police station to cool off, we were set free.

By that time, the reputation about us being in a biker gang had swept through town and it stuck. "

“I see,” I say.

“So," Charlie speaks up, finally eyeing me. “How do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel?” Honestly, I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand, I’ve always seen bikers as inherently dangerous, the exact type of men my ex would use to enforce his dastardly deeds.

It’s hard to imagine the brothers as those types of men.

But on the other hand, I’ve so far had a pretty shitty track record when it comes to picking men.

When Keegan and I started dating, I didn’t know Keegan was into illegal activity.

I never asked where his money came from, not wanting him to think that I was into him for his wealth.

And even when I saw his shiftiness around the police, I thought he was just a private businessman who had a bad history with the cops.

And after two years, when I deduced from conversation that he was opening a laundromat to clean his money, I thought he was involved in the kind of illegal stuff that was relatively mundane, like tax evasion.

It wasn’t till much later, when I was pregnant with Maddie, and he started having his boys over to our home, that I realized what he really was. A small but significant part of the illegal arms trade in Chicago.

By that point, it was already too late.

What if I’m doing it again? What if I’m somehow endangering my girls by trusting the wrong men?

"Have you ever done anything like that again?" I ask Mitch in particular. "Lost your temper?"

"Never. I know what it seems like, but I'm really not a fly-off-the-handle type of guy. That was just a supremely bad day."

I nod. Keegan used to excuse his temper tantrums and abuse with bad days too. He would hit me and then apologize in tears, telling me that he'd just had a bad day, begging my forgiveness, telling me how much he loved me.

But then eventually, it started to seem like he only had bad days .

“The job offer still stands,” Mitch says. “But I’ll give you time to think about it if you want to reconsider.”

I offer him a smile. “Thank you.” Time, that’s what I need. Time to figure out whether I can really trust these guys as much as I think I can.

Later that night after dinner, I take my dozing daughters to their rooms and return to find the men still at the dinner table discussing something.

“You didn't complete the quota today, Wes” Mitch is saying.

“Get off my ass. You know it’s been a long ass day and I did the best I could."

“Well, try and do better. And Charlie I don’t appreciate you spending half the day in your room when you know you have an order to complete by Monday. What on earth were you even doing in there?”

“Jerking off,” Wes mutters and Charlie’s ears turn pink.

I turn away before the rest of the guys can notice me blushing and I start loading dishes into the dishwasher.

"I'll have it done by Monday," Charlie finally says quietly.

Mitch is quiet for a few seconds. "What the hell is wrong with you guys? Am I the only one who sees how serious this is? How close to the red we are?"

"We said we get it, Mitch," Wes says. "You don't have to keep harping on."

"I'll harp as much as I damn well please when you don't do your fucking job."

“Hey,” I say and they turn to me. “No arguing. You’ll wake up my girls.”

They nod and continue in hushed tones and I smile to myself.

They’re actually quite adorable. I've only been here for a little over a week but I’m already learning to handle them.

They need a firm hand most of the time, but a softer hand sometimes.

Sometimes I bribe them into behaving using little treats.

These are usually when I want them to leave their shoes outside, or move furniture for me to clean.

But during the times when I feel the tension rising like they’re about to go at each other’s throats, I nip that right in the bud with a single strict word. And it works like a charm each time.

As they continue discussing their work, night falls and the cicadas begin to chirp. I don't hear any footsteps but the front door suddenly flies open, with a panicky Katie standing there.

“You have to come, Mom," she says. "I think Maddie is having a nightmare."

Dishes and men forgotten, I run out and ahead of Katie back to the cottage. I throw open the door and overhear her sobbing on the bed.

“Maddie,” My heart breaks at the sound of my daughter’s cries. "Oh, baby.”

Her eyes open when I reach her, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mommy."

“Stop crying, baby. Tell me what's wrong."

"It’s daddy," she wails. "He found us and he was hurting you again. I don't want him to hurt you, mommy."

I swallow my emotions, drowning in so much regret. I should have left sooner. I never should have put my daughters through that.

"It was just a dream honey," I tell her. "Daddy is not here. He hasn’t found us. And he’ll never touch me or you again okay?"

"Are you sure Mommy?"

"Of course. Have I ever lied to you?"

She shakes her head and I kiss it. I turn back and gesture for Katie to walk to my arms and I carry them both into bed with me. I hum to them, rubbing their back as they both fall back asleep.

And then I slowly extricate myself, heading back out to the kitchen to finish my chores.

Only to run smack dab into Wes who is standing at the entrance with a furious look on his face.

My heart drops.

"What did she mean?" he asks in a cold, deadly voice. "Did your husband hit you?"