Chapter 3Luke

Chapter 3

Luke

"D amn every last one of my brothers," I mutter under my breath, frustration building with every one of my steps as I trudge along the path into the forest. "Damn them all."

"Be back by lunch," I told them, my tone letting them know just how damn serious I was. "If you aren't back by lunch, I'm eating without you and I'm eating your food. All of it!"

And yet here we are on the same damn hamster wheel. Every day, we do this, following the same frustrating routine. Every day—even though I swear I won't—I retrieve them from wherever they're off dillydallying, completely oblivious that it's noon. Then it's a mad dash back home to hopefully get them to the table so we can eat before our meal is cold.

I hate cold food, a trait I remember sharing with Dad. And I hate dillydallying, a trait I know comes from Ma. But seriously, we eat at the same time every day. It's not that hard to keep track of the time, now is it? It's not like they're children. The youngest of us, Rusty, is twenty now. Grown-ass men, the lot of them, and I shouldn't have to—

I stop in my tracks as I hear a feminine shriek, followed by a hell of a lot of shouting.

"What the hell?" I mutter.

Then she bursts through the trees, a vision of wild beauty.

I blink, stupefied for a second. Part of me thinks, Holy shit, she's gorgeous, and the rest of me thinks, Who is this woman and what the actual fuck is she doing on my mountain ?

She's running toward me, looking back over her shoulder. I follow her fearful, desperate gaze and watch as one, two, three, four, five, six, seven— seven of my dumbass brothers stumble and lurch out onto the path behind her.

All of them are naked as the day they were born, hauling ass after her, their hollering breaking through the trees with a discordant echo.

No wonder she's running. The sight and sound is truly terrifying. It makes me want to turn around and haul ass too, to be honest.

But I stand, frozen, watching the scene in front of me play out, as if it's not damn obvious I'm unfortunately about to become a part of it. Before I can even step out of the way, she closes in, picking up speed, glancing backward, not noticing either me or the sloppy patch of mud on the path between us.

"Watch out!" one of the guys—Hunter, I think—calls to her or to me or maybe the pair of us.

She doesn't notice. In a burst, she hurtles toward me, her ridiculously impractical boots skidding in the mud. Something hard gets me right in the knees, and then she's falling backward. My eyes water as if I took a direct hit to the nuts. She flails. She reaches out, presumably trying to catch hold of something to steady herself. I don't have the good sense to move, so what she catches hold of is me, grabbing onto my shins. It's just enough to make me off-balance, and down I go, into the mud, right along with her.

Damn.

"I'm wearing my good pants," is what I say to this woman, who somehow managed to fall so that she's on top of me.

"You're wearing pants," she says, amazed.

Why the fuck wouldn't I be? Oh, maybe because my brothers gave the impression that we're one big nudist colony up here.

I'm covered in mud, she's covered in mud. She reaches up, wiggling her body until she's straddling my hips, and my breath catches in my chest as she attempts to wipe the mud off my cheeks with her even muddier fingers—smearing it into my beard, I'm sure.

I'm on my back and she's on top of me, this woman, this total stranger, tenderly touching my face. She peers down at me, amazed.

I just wanted a damn sandwich and some damn stew.

"Could you not?" I demand, swatting her tiny little hands away like they're a hoard of damn mosquitoes.

Then those hands are on my chest.

Well, fuck. I'm not old enough for a heart attack, surely. But I'm not exactly a young buck anymore, either.

"God, your pecs," she murmurs, raking her fingers through my chest hair, making me wish I was wearing my good shirt with my good pants. Or any shirt, actually. What. The. Fuck. "I can't believe how close I am…"

Her thumb grazes my left nipple and…oh no, not now. My cock is more than happy to remind me that forty-two isn't very old, that my body still has a lot of life in it, the way it hardens underneath her perfect, plump, squeezable ass.

The way her eyes fill with more intrigue by the second makes me want to push up against her, return her caresses.

Which really pisses me the fuck off.

"Would you kindly get off of me?"

I do not say it kindly, but I do not fucking care, because this woman needs to fucking go.

Instead of listening, her lips part and she licks them with her pretty pink tongue. So goddamn pink. Fucking glistening to boot. "I…I think I hit my head, or maybe it was the spider's venom but…are you real? You can't be."

Her eyes are so big, so blue. So…lovely, actually. A lot of us have blue eyes, but I've never seen blue eyes in a shade quite this bright before. Her pupils are a bit dilated, giving her a slightly dazed look. She has a knot forming on her forehead. From the way my right kneecap is throbbing, I think I can figure out what she knocked that noggin on.

But even though she looks like she's about to sprout a horn, she's incredibly attractive, this woman, which makes me like her being here even less.

"Your pecs are so…wow. You're not as furry as I remember, though. But chiseled. You're so chiseled."

She pets my shoulders, my biceps, like I'm a damn dog. Her touch sends heat sparking through my blood.

All of which seems to be filling my cock now. It's never felt this engorged, this fucking hard.

And my cheeks. I'm blushing like a fucking teenager—what the hell? I'm thankful for my beard, which will at least keep anyone from seeing the pinkened flesh beneath.

"How did I manage to find so many glorious specimens of Bigfoot right away?"

Her voice is like a sexy purr, but her words hit me like someone's tossed a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.

"But not a full colony," she continues, quizzically. She sucks her lip in between her teeth for a second. "Just the males. How fascinating. Perhaps there are females back at their…cave? Nest?"

I have no idea who she's talking to, but she's so beautiful that I can't manage to do more than glare at her intrusion, though my mind does catch on the word Bigfoot . Fucking fuck.

I can't have heard her correctly. I can't have—

"Unless," she says, wrinkling her brow, "I'm hallucinating all of this. Maybe I bumped my head too hard."

"You did crack it pretty good," I tell her.

"I did?" She touches her forehead, smearing mud across her creamy skin, pushing too hard on the lump. " Ow . Oh."

"But I'm also real," I add. "Not a hallucination."

"How do I know you're not just a hallucination telling me you're not a hallucination just to mess with me?" she asks.

She fingers a strand of my hair. "A silver fox is what you are. Unless you're prematurely gray. You must be the patriarch."

With ease, I finally free myself, getting up and pretty much letting her slide off my body into the mud puddle with a splash.

Which gives me mixed feelings. While her reaction—shocked expression and an accompanying screech—to sliding into more cold mud is satisfying, my reaction to her body sliding along mine was a little too strong for comfort. With the way my erection is tenting them, not only are my good pants caked in mud, they're in serious danger of ripping open right at the crotch.

"I'm not a silver fox, and I'm not a damn Bigfoot," I say, "because Bigfoot is not real. You're not hallucinating, but you are trespassing, so I'd appreciate it if you'd go back the way you came and get off my damn mountain."

"Oh," she says, looking around at the faces of the others who've gathered around us, her mouth falling open. "This is…your mountain? I didn't know it belonged to anyone, I…"

And she looks down with a shocked, curious gaze that slides, staring, one by one, to each and every bare dick, all pointed straight at her like cannons ready to fire.

So my brothers have noticed she's attractive too, but at least a couple of them have the good sense to hide it when they finally notice all the ogling she's doing.

"Why the hell are you all naked?" I demand.

"We were bathing in the swimming hole. She was spying on us!" Ash says. Then he hastily adds, "But I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."

He smiles at her then, and she looks up at him, stunned. I'm stunned too, because Ash is usually way too cynical to take a stranger at face value, just assuming they don't mean any harm.

"I didn't mean…I thought you were…but then you were chasing me. One of you yelled, ‘Get her.' I thought you were going to kill me and eat me." The blonde pouts. "Oh God, are you going to kill me and eat me?"

So first we're Bigfoots, and now we're damn cannibals?

My eyes stray to her bottom lip as it pokes out, pretty pink and glistening wet. I glance away.

"We're sorry if we scared you, ma'am," Ash says. "We just wanted to talk to you, find out what you were up to. You took us by surprise."

I roll my eyes. The Ash I know would've wanted to tie her to a tree and interrogate her, making damn sure she's not a threat before setting her free.

Just wanted to talk to her, my ass.

"That's okay," she says, nearly a whisper. "I'm sorry I interrupted your…your…your, um…privacy?" she says questioningly, as if she's not sure she's using the right word. "I didn't realize you were all…" She looks down at Ash's now semi-erect dick and blushes prettily.

"Lunch is ready," I say, not quite ready to acknowledge that every shred of normalcy has gone out the window and there's no way I'll be eating lunch any time soon.

All I want is a nice quiet meal—while it's still hot. Is that too much for a man to ask for?

"Are you okay?" Clay asks suddenly. I can't get over how serious he sounds. Normally Clay would make some wisecrack, poking fun at me for getting knocked on my ass.

"No, I am not okay," I grouse. "My good pants are covered in mud and I'm covered in mud and I'm going to have to take a damn shower before we can eat and I'm hungry as hell."

"Clay wasn't talking to you, Luke," Nash says. He rushes closer and, both he and Clay, cocks still out, kneel down next to this woman.

This woman who shouldn't be here. Who cares if she's okay? She's got to go. Already the chaos she's causing is too much.

"May I help you up, ma'am?" Clay asks her, offering his arm. His thick, muscled arm, which she stares at before placing her palm atop almost reverently. She shifts her position and then her big baby blues are suddenly welled up with tears and her plump lower lip quivers.

Oh, damn. Not the waterworks.

"I'm hurt," she says, a tremor in her voice. "Oh, the pain. The…why is everything spinning?"

At that, they all predictably race to her, jockeying to be the one to help her up.

"She probably doesn't want all your cocks in her face, nimrods."

"Oh, shit," Brooks says. "We forgot to put our clothes on."

A few of them have the decency to look embarrassed. Even fewer cover themselves with their hands.

"I swear they aren't stupid," I tell her, though why am I telling her anything? I don't care if she thinks my brothers are stupid.

I stomp over and hold out a hand, hoisting her up. She cries out in agony and I have to grab her to keep her from going down again as her ankle buckles.

"Your ankle. It might be broken," Lynx says. "Don't put any weight on it."

I groan, but it's drowned out by the commotion as Buck races onto the path, carrying everyone's pants. He distributes them to the others, brushing his hair out of his eyes so he can better see the lady. He greets me with a chin nod, then he turns his full attention back to her, eyes like damn saucers.

"She's injured," Lynx tells him. "Possibly a broken ankle."

"Who is she?" Buck asks. He sounds awestruck, like it's a unicorn not some meddlesome lady who does not belong here. "What is she doing here?"

She's clinging to me like I'm her damn life raft, that's what she's doing here.

"She's a vision," Brooks breathes, sounding like a teenager with a crush rather than a man in his late-thirties.

"Shut up, Brooks," I say. Then I ask the lady, "Do you have amnesia?"

She giggles, like she, too, is a teenager with a crush. This is bad on so many levels. I have to get her gone. Now.

"I don't think so," she says. She blinks. "But my head doesn't quite feel right. So…maybe?"

"You know your name, your address, where you came from, and how to get back there?"

She nods. "My name is Gold—"

"I don't care." I transfer her to Clay and Lynx, who are the closest to us, getting them both muddy too, but when I said I don't care, I meant it.

We don't like outsiders, and they aren't welcome here. Even the pretty ones. My eyes flick over her curves.

Especially the pretty ones. Damn.

"You drove here? To the mountain?" I ask. "In a car?"

She nods. "It's the prettiest shade of purple known to—"

"Escort her back to wherever she's parked," I tell Lynx. "Then come right back. Lunch is getting cold."

"Luke, she's hurt," Nash protests.

"Not our problem. This is private property, ma'am. My brother, Lynx, will get you safely back to your vehicle. He can give you directions to the nearest hospital. But you have to go. Now."

I turn to leave, but catch my brothers shooting meaningful looks at each other.

"No," I say. I know what those meaningful looks mean.

"She's hurt," Clay insists. "We have to take her back to the cabin and let her clean up and tend to her wounds. It's the right thing to do."

His face is as serious as his voice. What the hell? Clay ain't acting like Clay.

"Then I'll take her to her car," Lynx says. "After I've tended to her and let her rest up a bit. We can't let her drive if she has a concussion, Luke."

Dammit. He probably has a valid point, but I said no. Didn't I say no?

"I SAID NO."

More meaningful glances.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Gold asks in a small voice.

"No, ma'am, you do not," I reply. "You have to—"

"Luke's right. You don't get a say. We caused you to fall and injure yourself, so we insist that you stay and let us make sure you're alright. And feed you lunch," Hunter tells her.

I can't help myself. I groan a groan that rises from deep within my soul. If I know Hunter, and I do, he isn't going to take a no from her or me.

They're all making lovesick cow eyes at her, like they've never seen a woman before. All at once they're yammering, each vocalizing their desire to be the one to carry her to the cabin as all of them but Hunter scramble to get dressed, falling all over themselves to be the one to save the damsel in distress.

Smitten, every damn one of them, and I want to smack them all on the back of the head, one at a time, and remind them that love at first sight is bullshit. Love is bullshit. This is bullshit.

I don't like it.

And I don't like that I'm outnumbered. I'm always outnumbered. You'd think being the oldest, what I say would go, but nope.

"Do not bring her back to the cabin," I tell them.

But I know they won't listen. We're not a Lukeocracy , they'll say. Everyone gets a vote, everyone's vote is equal.

They're too blinded by her beauty to see it, but I know this woman, whoever she is, is nothing but a headful of blonde hair, curves for days, and a whole heap of trouble.