Page 4 of Single Mom’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #1)

Patty

T he old silver and blue truck has been following me for some time now.

I saw it back in the gas station, parked behind my car, so it probably belongs to the drop-dead gorgeous giant that glared me down in the doorway. Perhaps it's just a coincidence that he's moving in the same direction as me, but my paranoia refuses to believe in coincidences anymore.

We've passed three exits and he hasn't taken a single one of them.

The alarm bells are now clanging in full force, and my gut churns with an ugly feeling.

I take the fourth exit, as directed by the gas station assistant, and our new friend follows suit.

I glance away from my rearview mirror again as we begin to rise in altitude and we're soon surrounded by a forest, lush with trees as far as the eyes can see and obviously planted, not naturally occurring.

Again, as directed by the gas station assistant we take the second right turn onto a private road with a hand painted sign marked “Norris” together with an arrow pointing up the hill.

The road is single lane and barely more than a track, and again the truck follows us into the forest. The track is narrower and more enclosed than the highway and the trees are no longer a thing to be admired from a distance, blocking out the sun and providing us with some pleasant shade to drive within, plus a wide range of attractive greens and browns of the various leaves and branches to admire as we drive by.

A wistful feeling pricks me.

I've always wanted to live somewhere like this, surrounded by nature. But unfortunately, I grew up in a concrete jungle and had no real means of getting out of it till now.

Rounding yet another bend, I am immediately drawn to something glinting in the sun.

It looks like a car parked on the side of the road, except it has no tires and its paint has faded from blue to near-gray.

As I continue, more and more cars come into view, mostly parked on the side of the road and in various states of disrepair.

In the distance, I see some more modern-looking heavy-duty logging equipment parked up, interspersed between large piles of timber, seemingly arranged and tied together for a purpose and then abandoned just like the vehicles.

Looks like we're here. Thank God. I don’t know what I’m going to find here, but the gas station attendant said the Norris brothers were good guys.

They’re likely not going to let me get murdered or kidnapped on their property, at the very least, for the mere inconvenience it would cause them.

Even if that really is one of my ex's men behind us.

I glance at the vehicle still in my rearview. I've never seen that truck amongst any of Keegan's enforcers. Maybe it’s just paranoia and lack of sleep speaking.

But when I slow my car to a stop and his follows suit, also slowing to a stop a little way behind me, my panic begins to rise again.

Maybe there's a wanted poster out already. Maybe Keegan got the cops to believe that I was somehow complicit and now they're looking for me. Maybe that guy recognized me back at the store and is planning on a citizen’s arrest. That’s the only reason I can think of for him glaring at me and then following me all the way here .

And to think I thought he was handsome. I should have known. The most handsome men always turn out to be the biggest assholes.

Although, if he’s doing a citizen’s arrest then maybe he's not a bad guy. He probably just thinks he’s doing the right thing. In which case I just need to explain things to him, get him to see that I'm innocent in all this.

In any case, I’ll still have to confront him.

“Stay here, girls,” I say and maybe they can sense my tension because they nod without saying anything else. With my splintered thoughts and a racing heartbeat, I get out of the car and approach the man, knocking on his car window.

He glances up at me and slowly winds it down. Once again, I’m struck by his good looks, even though this is probably a terrible time to notice that he has naturally sultry eyes.

Bedroom eyes, my mother used to call them.

Bedroom lips too, plump and kissable

Stop that, I think. I’m way too tired to be this horny.

Although maybe that’s why I’m so horny. I’ve not been horny in a while, though I lost the ability to feel those things after being with my ex for so long.

But now I see where I went wrong. I was surrounded by an insulting jerk and his cruel subordinates.

But this mountain man certainly has a fire starting inside m e

“Why are you following me?” I cough to clear my throat after I speak, noting how crackly my voice is.

He blinks at me. “I’m following you?"

I raise an eyebrow. Who does he think he’s fooling? “I saw you at the gas station and now you’re here. Somehow I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

A crooked upturn of his lips shows a hint of a dimple on his cheek. Oh God, he’s hot as hell and he has a dimple. Lord have mercy.

“It kinda is,” he replies. “Considering I live here.”

That simple statement stuns me speechless for several seconds. Fortunately, he doesn’t say anything, leaving me time for the wheels to turn in my head.

“You do?”

“Yup.” He nods. “I’m Charlie. Charlie Norris.”

Norris as in ‘ The Norris brothers ?

“Oh God.” I can feel the heat spread across my features, as my hand goes over my mouth. My horrified voice is muffled. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Norris. That was very rude of me.”

"No worries.” A click at his door has me stepping back as he climbs out of the car, stretching far above my head once again. Lord, he is a large man, nearly blocking out the entire sun with his frame. “And don’t call me Mr. Norris please, that was my dad. Just Charlie is fine.”

“Alright, Charlie.” I want to wring my hands from the sheer embarrassment of it all. “Still, I want to apologize for accusing you of following me. I’m sorry, I’m not usually so confrontational. It’s just been a hard couple of days.”

Jesus, don’t tell him that. What if he starts asking questions?

I wouldn't have said it if I were thinking clearly. I shouldn’t be having a conversation with anyone when I’m in this state of tiredness and anxiety.

My brain is both too slow and too quick, I’m a jittery mess and I’m pretty sure that anyone who sees me can tell that I’m about two seconds away from either breaking down or passing out.

He'll probably ask questions anyway. And just like the clerk, he probably won't buy my story about a family vacation.

But Charlie hasn’t said anything for the longest time.

He simply stares down at me, scanning me so hard that I feel my embarrassment forming into a different kind of heat.

He has such an intense gaze, one that feels like it’s stripping me of every secret and every covering, leaving me emotionally and physically naked in front of him.

It’s the kind of gaze I sometimes imagine when reading romance novels, during the part where the main hero claims the heroine, promising to protect and love her always.

I've long since given up the idea that those types of men exist in the real world, but I have to hand it to him.

Charlie Norris certainly has the look down pat.

I wonder if he looks like that during sex, if his gaze is that low-lidded while I’m sucking his cock or while he’s on top of me, driving me.

I rip the thought away as he closes the door behind him. And now that makes it twice I’ve started fantasizing about this stranger. I must be truly delirious.

“No worries,” he says, and it takes me a second to realize that he’s responding to my apologies. “It's good to be suspicious. You can’t be too careful these days. Anyway, Jamie told me y’all were looking for a place to stay?”

Jamie…? I realize then that he’s talking about the gas station assistant.

Damn, she was so helpful to me, but I never even asked her name.

The one thing I usually do, and especially with people from the service industry is ask for their na me.

As someone who has worked in that industry for years, I know how dehumanizing it can feel for people to simply address you with questions or with a snap of the finger, without so much as knowing your name and acknowledging that you're an individual with an identity that has nothing to do with your job.

So, my one big rule is to learn the names of all those who serve me.

But I had been too exhausted to think of anything back then.

“Is that not accurate?" Charlie asks in that deep voice of his and then I realize that I’ve been silent for too long, probably making him worried she got it wrong.

“Yeah, it’s accurate,” I say. “I’m looking for a place to stay for the night and maybe a few days more. Mind you I don’t have a lot of money.”

“That's fine. We can accommodate a range of budgets, although the Presidential Suite is closed for refurbishment right now, and we don’t really operate a five-star concierge service out of season, oh and I’ll warn you now that the swimming pool closes at night.

” He leans against his truck, looping his finger through his belt buckle, smiling at his joke.

The subtle movement drags his jeans low enough to reveal a strip of skin, the muscles underneath rippling in tension.

I stare at it, nearly licking my lips in hunger.

It may not be much, but it's enough to tell me that he must work hard to achieve those firm, sculpted abs, and he's probably powerful enough to show a woman more than an averagely good time.

I jump to alertness when a high-pitched scream interrupts us.

Instantly, I run back to my car and see my daughter, Maddie with tears .

"I don't want to be here!" she wails. "I wanna go home. I'm tired!"

“What happened?” I ask Kate as I undo the seatbelt and try to wrangle a struggling Maddie into my arms.