Chapter 29Goldie

Chapter 29

Goldie

L uke folds his arms, skepticism still etched across his face but his stance suggests he's listening. "Did you really lose your virginity to Brooks? That was your first time?"

This is so private, and not really any of his business, but I nod. "It was important to me. I'd been waiting…for the perfect time. But…anyway, it happened, and I wanted it and I don't regret it. I'm glad it happened the way it did."

"Apparently so, since you immediately went for an encore with Hunter. Are you sure you don't just want to have your little sexathon with my brothers because of what your friend has going on with her ten men? Maybe you just want what she has?"

I pause and consider this, really consider this, because didn't I have a similar thought? Yes. I did. My first night here, before Buck took me to his bed.

Why am I so fricking horny?

I have not waited thirty loooooooooooooooong years to have sex, just to give it up to the first set of ten brothers that comes along.

But that's it, I realize. It's Winnie and her Hammer brothers.

Their exception-to-the-rule love story is what makes the idea of having ten brothers of my own so appealing. And like Winnie…I'd have to start with one.

But I wasn't seriously considering it then!

"Well, Winnie has way more than a sexathon with the Hammer brothers. They love her and she loves them. That's right for her. It wouldn't be right for me. This has nothing to do with my friend, or her love life, or love at all." I push some damp hair behind my ear. "My mom has been married a lot. Has had a lot of failed marriages…"

I pause, because he hasn't told me to shut up, but he looks fairly exasperated and I don't know if it's from listening to me or if that's just his face. "Do you want me to shut up?"

"Keep talking. You've got until I decide to hit play again," he says, nodding toward the boom box.

Relief floods over me, more of a gusher than what Brooks and Hunter had going on between my thighs this morning.

"My mom has been married a lot," I begin again. "She's had a lot of failed marriages. But every time she moved one of her new husbands into our house, it felt a little less like a home." Yeah, I actually liked Roy, and not all of them were terrible, but… "Every time she moved one of them in, at first, it felt like they were just a bothersome intruder in our lives. And then inevitably, after a while, I always felt like the one who didn't belong."

There's something in Luke's eyes I've never seen in them before, something I can't put a name to. Empathy, maybe? Or is he seeing me as a human, with a heart, for the first time?

"I would never want to do that to you. I don't want you to feel like I'm a bothersome intruder, and I don't ever, ever, ever want to make you feel like the one who doesn't belong. Being at the swimming hole with all your brothers just now…without you…it didn't feel right."

He's studying me now.

"Well," he says, finally. "It's not like you're moving in. Yeah, you're pretty much the textbook definition of a bothersome intruder, but I can deal with it if it makes my brothers happy…temporarily…and you're never going to make me feel like I don't belong. We done?"

I shake my head and he huffs out an exhale so deep it wipes out another tower of cassettes. Apparently, he's forgotten he can end this at any time. He did say I had until he turned the music back on. Before he can remember that, I forge ahead.

"Luke, about this morning—I overheard what you said. About thinking I'm a Sasquatch hunter." I keep my voice gentle but firm. "I'm not a Sasquatch hunter. Exactly."

His whole demeanor shifts, as if suddenly he's facing grave danger, bracing himself for a threat.

"What do you mean, you're not a Sasquatch hunter exactly ?"

I blurt it all out without thinking too much other than do not mention the documentary . "I came back to this mountain because of something that happened to me here when I was young. I was attacked by a bobcat and saved, I believe, by something…I thought it was a Sasquatch then. I wanted to find it, thank it. It sounds foolish out loud, I know. I mean, Sasquatches don't exist, right? But, the truth of the matter is, yeah, I did come here looking for one."

I don't expect him to tell me I'm wrong. I don't expect him to just say, Hey, yeah, they do exist, and our father was one and we're half-Sasquatch . In fact, I'm just holding my breath, hoping he won't pick me up and toss me off the mountain like I'm a beanbag and this is a cornhole competition.

Luke's eyebrows draw together during my explanation, his skepticism palpable. "Whether they're real or not isn't the point. Ghosts don't exist either, and yet haunted houses draw year-round crowds. If one hunter claims a sighting, we'll have looky-loos swarming the mountain in no time."

His logic is flawless, irritatingly so.

"I'm not going to claim a sighting, Luke. I swear. When I leave, I won't even tell anyone about you all. Period."

"Were you filming my brothers at the river when you first stumbled upon them?" His question catches me off guard, and for a split second, I contemplate telling the truth.

I falter, then out comes the lie because the truth will only hurt him—and the others—and it doesn't matter now anyway. "No. It's a gorgeous time of year. I was taking some pictures of the scenery. That's all."

He studies me, his gaze intense. "Why should I trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't," I say honestly. "Trust has to be earned. We've just met." I feel the weight of his scrutiny. "But would it really be so miserable for you if I stay awhile? I know you don't want to, um, fuck me, but could you consider just…accepting my companionship?"

He's quiet. Not saying yes. Not saying no. Not saying anything.

"I appreciate how protective you are of your family," I say, meaning every word. "But I'm not going to hurt them, Luke. No one's falling in love in a couple of weeks. It's just friendship with benefits," I reassure him.

"A couple of weeks, huh?" He instantly pounces on the words I hadn't even realized I was saying, more than a hint of relief in his tone. "Is that how long you're planning to stay? Two weeks? Fourteen days?"

The question makes me pause. I haven't actually thought that far ahead. Realizing this sends a jolt of panic through me—I always have a plan. Yet…the panic is fleeting. In this place, not having a plan has worked out for me splendidly thus far.

I nod, decisively. "Yes, two weeks. It's like a vacation, and honestly, I haven't had one in a long time," I admit, feeling the truth of my words as I speak them.

The last one, I think, was to Disneyland when I was in college, but let's be honest, Bj?rnssonworld has way better rides.

Luke nods slowly. "Okay, two weeks. But don't lead them on. You're saying friendship and sex, but don't give them any reason to think it's any more than that. Please." Then he clears his throat, as if he's realized how polite he sounded and it tastes bad. "And don't get any ideas, Goldilocks," he adds, gruff as ever. "You're not going to sweet-talk me into any kissy-kissy or one of your lumbersexual makeovers.

I laugh. "Well, that's probably a good thing, since, as a fan of Billy Ray Cyrus, your idea of a makeover just might include a mullet, and I would have to morally object."

"Okay, so, we all earn our keep around here," he says. "Even if you're only staying for two weeks, you'll be expected to do the same, and sexual favors do not count."

I nod. "Of course. Put me on the chore chart."

He shoots me a quizzical look but shakes his head. "We don't have a lot of time for cleaning, so would you mind helping out with that?"

I swear his request is very close to being a more pleasant surprise than Brooks's first thrust into me this morning. But I can't help thinking, That's one small step for (mountain) man, one giant leap for Goldiekind . Or maybe it's the other way around. And hopefully Neil Armstrong won't haunt me for cannibalizing his famous quote, but…I mean…sweet Lord, this is excellent! Ankle be damned, lack of space be damned—a happy dance is forthcoming if he's serious.

"Of course I wouldn't mind cleaning! Go chop some wood, or whatever you were planning to do. I will Marie Kondo the hell out of this place."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down," he says, but is that the barest hint of a smile I see playing hide-and-seek with me from within that grizzly beard? "I'm not talking life-changing magic here."

My mouth drops open. "You're familiar with the KonMari method?"

"We have a copy of the Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up around here…somewhere. Maybe a couple. I dunno. But you're only here for two weeks, so let's…start with the basics. The dishes. I just made up a new batch of washing-up liquid."

I glance at the sink and the counter and basically every surface in the kitchen. Yes, the dishes alone might just take two weeks.

"Okay. I've got the dishes. You go chop that wood!" I stop myself from tacking a shoo! onto the end of my sentence.

The others could be on their way back already. As soon as I get Luke out the door, I'll have to make very quick work of getting all the cameras down. The thought of the brothers walking in and finding me mid-retrieval sends a jolt of panic through my chest. How would I explain that? Oh, these? Just some knick-knacks you all must've had on these shelves for years because I've certainly never seen them before! My heart hammers as I picture their confusion shifting into hurt—and then anger. No…the hurt would be way worse than anger.

"Go, go, go!" I say, reaching up and giving his shoulder what I hope is a playful li'l shove. "I've got this."

But he shakes his head. "Nah. Many hands make light work. And besides, you want me to give the companionship thing a try, right? So we might as well start with tackling some pots and pans together."

Before I can protest, he hits play on the boom box and the time for talking is over.