Chapter 11Lynx

Chapter 11

Lynx

I wake up every morning in the pre-dawn hours. I get up, and I thump whichever one of my brothers is snoring loud enough to knock down the whole damn mountain on the forehead. I head outside to get a lungful of the fresh morning air while I take a piss, and then I go back inside and back to bed…

But not today.

Well, I do all of that, except the going back to bed part. Instead, I head to the living room—and I'm smiling. While I was outside, I found myself whistling some happy tune I can't quite place.

I'm excited.

I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't. A woman's presence in our house is a once-in-a-lifetime temporary thing. It won't ever be more than that. Still, knowing that Goldie is here, safe, and hopefully comfortable, makes me happy. Anything that changes up our routine makes me happy. But her, she makes me especially happy.

No matter how short her stay with us is, I'm going to enjoy every damn second of her company. Even if it just makes the daily grind harder once she's gone.

But my smile falls right off my face when I see that the couch is empty. Did Goldie sneak out during the middle of the night? I hope to God not because her wandering around out there in the dark, not knowing where the hell she's going—and injured, at that—would be so dangerous.

My heart does a little thud thud thud , anxious in my chest.

I retrace my steps, trying to find my boots so I can go out and look for her, but when I swing my flashlight this way and that, I see something I didn't see before, in the front bedroom.

There's a lump in Buck's bed. A Buck-sized lump. And then a smaller lump on top of that lump. A what-the-fuck-sized lump.

A distinctly blonde head of curly hair peeks out of the top of the covers. My happiness levels drop to the floor.

I could look at the bright side and be glad she didn't leave.

No one stirs when I clear my throat. There are two sets of snores coming from Buck's bed—one soft and cute, the other like a damn wild boar with sinusitis.

"That's it," I say loudly. "Today is the day I give you the ass-kicking you've been begging for, Buck Bj?rnsson."

Or…I want to say it. What I actually do is head to the kitchen, where no one did the supper dishes last night. Or the lunch dishes. Or the breakfast dishes.

Since there are no clean bowls, after I make oatmeal, I stand at the stove eating it straight out of the pot. I make it the way I like it—enough maple syrup to take a bath in, a couple handfuls of chopped walnuts, and a box of raisins.

"Good morning," a sweet voice says and I jerk, stabbing myself in the neck with the serving spoon I was eating with.

I turn around and there she is, close enough to touch.

Lord have mercy, she is a sight to behold.

Also note to self—Goldie walks quietly.

None of us do anything quietly.

I try to return her greeting, but between my mouthful of oatmeal and the blow to my Adam's apple, it comes out sounding like, "Accck, goof murdin."

She smiles at me. Turning, she walks over to the nearest window, where the sun is just coming up. Even though she's noticeably favoring her left foot, making her gait uneven, her hips sway like the tops of the trees just before a summer storm. Back and forth, back and forth, soothing and gentle before the breeze turns into a full-blown wind.

My body reacts accordingly. It's biology, that's all. Especially if she's already chosen Buck. That bastard.

Can't go down that road again.

"Hmm," she says. "It didn't snow after all, huh?"

"No, ma'am, it did not."

And that's fuckin' weird, because Ash is never wrong about the weather. When he gets up and sees he was, he might just have an actual identity crisis.

"How's that ankle feelin'?"

"Uh." She glances down at it. Her sweet little nose scrunches up. "It's not too bad. Your poultice worked magic, I think."

I should still probably take a proper look at it later. Apply some more of the poultice. Wrap it in a fresh bandage.

"How about your head?"

She reaches up and tests her forehead, as if she's forgotten all about that. "Oh! Ouch. Probably should keep my hands off it. It's definitely tender to the touch still. But I think I was probably just temporarily disoriented from the impact, not concussed."

Her eyes have roamed back up and are studying me as I make a mental list of things I need to do to take care of her. Speaking of…

"Can I get you something to eat?" I volunteer. "I'll have to wash some dishes first, but I don't mind—"

"I don't eat breakfast, usually," she says, her eyes roving over the kitchen. "I can wash the dishes for you, though! And straighten up in here a bit, maybe?"

I'm about to tell her that it sure is nice of her to offer because we could use more than a bit of straightening up in here, but then Luke's voice snips, "Thank you kindly, but we are doing quite fine without a housewife."

I don't know how we didn't hear him come in. Guess we were too busy paying attention to each other.

Goldie glances from me to Luke and back again. I choose to withhold my opinion on the matter, because she probably has no interest in ever being a housewife for anyone, and Luke may be doing quite fine without one, but…

I let the thought trail off, and turn my attention back to Goldie.

"I mean, yes, if your goal is to build a tower of filthy plates taller than you are, you're doing mighty fine," she retorts. Her hands aren't on her scrumptious hips but I have a feeling it won't be long before they get there. Damn those hips though. "Would you prefer applause, or a trophy for your efforts?"

I stifle a laugh at the challenging eyebrows-raised stare she's pinned on Luke.

Damn, this woman is a spitfire, and part of me wants to let them carry on and just enjoy the show, but…

Spitfire or not, Goldie will only be able to hold her own for so long. Luke is like a mechanical bull. He ain't gonna wear out and he ain't gonna give up and sooner or later, he'll throw her off. It's not a matter of if he'll win, but when. She's already got a busted ankle. I don't want to see her hurt any more than that.

The rest of us have the numbers on him and can outvote him every time. So she's here. But he can make her miserable enough that she'll want to leave.

I remind myself it doesn't matter that much. We all only agreed she'd stay one night. Hell, she only agreed to stay the one night.

But I still don't like the way they're glaring at each other.

"It didn't snow," I say.

"I noticed." Luke blinks first. His eyes flit to me. "You were going fishing, yeah?"

"Yep. As soon as I finish eating."

He stomps over, pulls the pot out of my hands with more force than necessary, and slaps it down on the counter. Everything else on the counter teeters. Goldie's got this look on her face like she's bracing herself for the inevitable crash of it all.

"Looks like you're done," Luke says.

He glances back at Goldie. Hitching his thumb toward her, he suggests, "Why don't you take Little Miss Helpful with you?"

Sometimes Luke can be a real pain in my ass, but other times…well. He says something like that.

My lips twitch into a grin.

"Would you like to go fishing with me, ma'am?" I ask.

"I would love to go fishing with you, Lynx," Goldie says with this smile that could melt the spots right off a damn ladybug. I know she's probably just trying to get under Luke's skin, but the way she says my name makes my cock grow hard again. It has been a damn long time since I've gotten laid, and I have never been laid by someone as gorgeous as Goldie.

I hesitate as I wonder exactly what happened with her and Buck last night. The last time the two of us went after the same woman, well, the results were not what you'd call favorable.

That was, in fact, the last time any of us went after a woman, period.

I sigh.

"She said she would love to go fishing with you, Lynx." Luke is shooting me all kinds of pointed looks. He might as well have said, Would you hurry up and get her ass out of here, already?

"I thought you wanted me to stay off my foot?" Goldie asks Luke. "You know, rest up? So I can leave later today?"

"Well, actually I wanted you gone by sunrise, so I was hoping after fishing, you might decide the great outdoors isn't your thing after all and beg Lynx to escort you directly to your car," Luke says. "But he can carry you to the river and that will keep you off your foot."

The thought of her in my arms…

"Um, did you and Buck, uh, get romantic last night?" I ask, thankful the furious blushing I'm doing is hidden beneath my beard. My face feels like it's on fire.

"No!" Now Goldie is the one blushing and I feel bad.

"Why the hell would you ask her that?" Luke demands. "Sometimes, you can all be such idiots. I can't believe you're delusional enough to believe someone like this would actually let one of us fuck her. Is that why you all were so hell-bent on bringing her here? Because you actually thought you were gonna get lucky?"

He gestures at Goldie and then at me. Then he shakes his head as if I'm a lost cause, his lip curling in disgust. "I'll be out back."

Well, that wasn't embarrassing at all.

A second later, the back door slams.

"I didn't mean to offend, ma'am. For the record, we didn't bring you here because we thought, um, you know. What Luke said. We brought you here exactly why we said we did—because you got hurt and we caused it. But it's just, you know, while you're here, if it's a fact that you like Buck and Buck likes you back, I don't want to step on any toes."

She smiles and damn, that smile. "Well, that's good. About you not wanting to step on any toes, because your feet are big and my ankle is already trashed so I don't really need any broken toes, and in my head that was all witty and quippy and it just kind of…didn't land. So. Fishing?" she asks. The question is…hopeful?

"Fishing," I agree with a nod.

"Okay. I'll go get dressed." She gives me another smile, this time a sly little grin. "You probably should get dressed too, huh?"

Her eyes travel down my body…right down to my underwear. The only thing I've been wearing this whole time. It doesn't leave much to the imagination.

She turns and heads toward the bathroom, hips swaying, musical laughter trailing behind her.

Half an hour later, we're headed down to the river. Goldie suggested a piggyback ride, to free up my hands so I could carry our gear, and her body pressed against my back, her legs wrapped around me from behind, is nothing short of heaven. It only sucks that I can't see her.

She surprises me by asking, "What are we trying to catch? Rainbow trout? Brown trout?"

"You know fishing?"

It's a cool, brisk morning, but not what I'd call cold. I don't know why Ash thought it would snow. Even if it had, it would've melted before it hit the ground.

Fuckin' weird.

"I know a little," she says. Then she adds, "A very, very little."

I laugh.

"One of my mom's husbands—"

"Your mom has more than one husband?" I interrupt even though it's rude because…her mom has more than one husband?

Now she laughs.

"She's had a bunch, but only one at a time. Anyway, one of them took me fishing a couple times. I liked it. But the marriage didn't last long, so…" Her voice trails off with a sigh. "That was a long, long time ago."

Then she adds, "By the way, I do like Buck. But I like you all."

I snort. "You like Luke?"

"Weeeeeeeeeelll," she says, drawing out the word, and then she laughs, which makes me laugh. "The jury is still out on Grumpy Luke, but he sure seems to have found me guilty on all accounts of everything."

There's a questioning note in her voice.

"Luke likes our life the way it is and doesn't want things to change," I say. "That's all."

That's not all, but as comfortable as I feel with her, Goldie is practically a total stranger and she doesn't need to know all of our business.

"And what about you?" From behind, she draws some of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear.

We've reached the slow-moving river. I could put her down now, but one of her arms is around my neck, hand resting on my chest, and both of her legs are still wrapped around me, squeezing tight.

"What does Lynx want?" she asks, and I can feel her breath, warm and wispy, against my earlobe.

I clear my throat and give her an appropriate response. "Uh. To catch some fish."

What do I want?

I want to rip off all our clothes and take her into the river and thrust into her so damn hard every damn drop of the damn water sloshes out onto the bank.

But saying so wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me.

I put her down along with everything else I'm carrying. I set up the folding chair I brought along for her, then I turn around and…she's kneeling, scratching in the hard ground with a stick.

"Sunshine, what are you doing?"

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and innocent. "I was trying to help. I thought I'd dig up some worms?"

"Not necessary," I say with a smile. "But I appreciate your gumption." I open up the tackle box and choose some bait. Once I've got the rod ready, I hand it to her. "Do you want me to show you how to cast? Or do you recall?"

She shakes her head, blonde curls flying back and forth—her hair really does look like it's made of spun sunshine. "Do you mind if I just watch you?"

"You could watch me do anything, anytime, anyplace."

She laughs but then closes her mouth fast.

"Do we need to be quiet?" she whispers after a moment, after she's settled into the chair. "Or can we talk?"

"We can talk," I tell her.

"So…did your dad teach you how to fish?"

Just like that, I wish I'd said this was a silent activity. Out of all the things she could ask, she asks that? Moving down a ways on the bank, I say, "He did."

We don't talk about Pa. Ever.

"So…you've lived on the mountain your whole life, then?"

"Most of it."

In my peripheral vision, I see her nodding, curls bouncing.

"And what about your parents? Do they still live somewhere up here in the mountains too?"

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. "You sure ask a lot of questions."

"That's how you get to know people, right?"

She has a point.

"How about this," I say, pleased that she wants to get to know me, and wanting to get to know her too. "For every question you ask and I answer, I get to ask you one you have to answer."

"Okay," she agrees readily. "I think I owe you two."

I think about it for a minute. And I can only think of one question. "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"What makes you think I don't?" she asks.

"Well, I'm just assuming, because if you were my girl, I wouldn't let you come camping in the mountains all by yourself."

"One, I think you need to keep your eye on your pole there, mister. And two, most women don't like it when their significant others try to boss them around. If I were your girl, and I wanted to come camping by myself, you wouldn't be able to stop me. It certainly wouldn't be a matter of whether or not you let me."

Oh shit . "No, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, you know, I would go with you. I would want to be with you. Camping or wherever you went."

There's a moment of silence.

"Oh," she says. Then, "My turn. Why didn't you become a doctor? Hunter said you wanted to."

"Wait a minute. You didn't answer my question."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, no boyfriend."

"Why not?"

"It's not your turn. Why didn't you become a doctor?"

I sigh, from deep within me. I shrug.

"A shrug is not an answer, Lynx Bj?rnsson."

"Well, they don't let you into med school if you don't finish your first week of college," I say, wishing to God a fish would choose this moment to decide it wanted catching.

I've never talked to anyone about this. Ever.

"You went to college?"

"It's not your turn," I tell her. "But we're not uneducated. Ma homeschooled us. I got really good grades. I got into my top-choice school."

"Then what happened?"

"It's still not your turn."

"Then ask me something so it can be my turn again!"

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" she counters, and there isn't an ounce of mocking in those gorgeous eyes.

"You can't answer my question with a question."

"I don't have a boyfriend because…relationships are messy. Love is messy," she says finally.

"I suppose it can be that."

"Have you been in love?"

I don't even hesitate. "Thought I was. Once."

"But you were wrong?"

"You owe me about seven answers by now, according to my count," I tell her.

"Okay," she replies.

"The thing about being in love is…someone has to be in it with you. Otherwise, it's just…infatuation," I say in a rush, then ask, "Have you? Ever been in love?"

She shakes her head. "Not even close. I really, really, really don't like messy."

I nod, understanding what she's saying. She doesn't like messy. Me and my brothers are messy as hell. And that means that as soon as she's able to, she'll be running, not walking, all the hell away from us. Her ankle must be hurting more than she's letting on, since she's still choosing to hang around.

Luke's right. Thinking she'd want one of us is delusional.

It makes me sadder than it should, since when I woke up yesterday morning, I didn't even know she existed. But now that I do…I kind of can't imagine not missing her something fierce when she's gone.