Chapter 41Goldie

Chapter 41

Goldie

I wake up to the morning sunlight bathing my bare skin, the fresh mountain air tickling my body with its chilled caress. I slept so well, so hard, it takes a minute for me to shake the dream-fog from my head, sorting out which vividly naughty images burned in my brain are just fantasies conjured up by my subconscious and which are actual memories, fantasies spun into reality by Ash and Ranger.

I can't fight the smile at the phantom sensation of their fingers still working me up into an orgasm so fierce and earth-shattering I think I almost broke Ranger's nose with an accidental headbutt when I came. He took it in stride, saying they might need to invest in helmets, and asking me to kiss it and make it better, which, of course, I obliged.

What was just getting started for Range was the grand finale for Ash, and he was soon softly snoring. I tried to follow suit, because it had been a long, exhausting, and definitely physically demanding day, but I kept hearing something in the distance that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

"It's just a coyote, darlin'," Ranger said, pulling me close after I tossed and turned for a few minutes.

"Just a coyote?" I'd asked, ready to get up and haul ass back into the cabin.

"It ain't gonna bother us," Ranger assured me.

"How do you know?" I snuggled against his chest.

"We have an understanding."

"You and the coyotes have an understanding."

"Yep. They stay off our territory, we stay off theirs. They've got sharper teeth, but we're bigger, so it's a fair trade."

That sounded absurd, but who the heck am I to question absurd? I'm swimming in the deep end of the Absurd Ocean, where if I drown, I'll die a deliriously satisfied woman, my ghost living happily ever after within its glorious depths with mermaids and narwhals.

I asked Ranger if he happened to have a condom and he did, which I deemed fate telling us we had to fuck. It was meant to be. He rolled over onto his back, pulled me onto him, and I rode him so hard for so long I started thinking maybe both of us had lost the ability to come.

I can still feel his staying power, making my thighs and everything in between quiver, as I glance around, blinking away the remnants of last night's passionate haze. Ash and Ranger are still fast asleep, our nude bodies tangled together like a Renaissance painting come to life.

Careful not to wake my slumbering studs, I get up. Suddenly shivering without the protection of their body heat, I wiggle into my clothes from last night—a process that's more challenging than it should be, given how wrinkled and dew-damp everything is. And how unbelievably sore every single muscle in my body is. Note to self—next time we decide to have an impromptu outdoor threesome, bring a change of clothes. And do some stretches first.

I extend my arms toward the sky, roll my neck, and try to work out the kinks in my back. Though I wouldn't change a thing about last night, sleeping on the ground is not as romantic as movies make it seem. But I look down at them, with love, yes, definitely with love, before glancing around at our surroundings, which I probably could've sort of made out in the moonlight last night, but I had better things to look at.

Where are we even? Somewhere back behind the cabin I know, but I've never passed this area before. I knew Ash had carried me pretty far out, but how far out?

I suck in a breath, awestruck, as I spin in a slow circle. This place is like an Alice in Wonderland fever dream designed by Salvador Dalí on 'shrooms. Wooden and metal sculptures are everywhere, peeking out from behind topiaries and nestled amongst intricately designed arches. Wildflowers of every color of the rainbow and some colors I didn't even know existed climb trellises and sprout up in patches.

There's even a gazebo, wild vines that drape over its weathered whitewashed beams and weave in and out of the latticework like festive garland at Christmastime.

Then there's the stone fountain—a statue of a whale. From its spout arcs a stream of crystal-clear water that sparkles in the sunlight. I can't believe I didn't hear the calming splash of the water last night, but then again, we were probably overpowering that with our own sounds.

I turn, startled by a life-sized grizzly bear rearing up on its hind legs, its wooden claws looking sharp enough to draw blood. A family of deer are frozen mid-leap, their graceful forms captured in oak and maple. There's even a collection of fantastical creatures that look like they escaped from a Guillermo del Toro film.

A low stone wall surrounds the perimeter, marking the large octagon-shaped area.

Without even thinking, I'm snapping pictures like a tourist at the Louvre, trying to capture every intricate detail of it all. There's a gnome riding a snail that's so lifelike, I half expect it to wink at me. I'm zooming in on the snail's spiral shell when a gruff voice nearly makes me drop my phone, which, honestly, I don't even remember picking up. We really are addicted to these things as a modern society, and a few days of detox was not enough to break me of the dependency.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I whirl around to find Luke standing there, looking like a pissed-off lumberjack who's just rolled out of bed—which, to be fair, he probably has. His long gray hair is a tangled mess, and his beard looks like it's trying to eat his face.

"Hey," I say, not really thinking anything of it, because we have a truce and What the hell do you think you're doing? is a pretty standard question for Luke to ask, even when he's in a good mood.

But he stomps over and yanks my phone out of my hands.

Oh, that's right. I'd snatched it up without even thinking to use a plant-identification app I'd installed before hitting the road for this trip—well, not this trip, because I did not plan this trip—to keep me safely away from poison ivy and anything else that might cause a rash. Though I never had to use it for that, I've now learned that the star-shaped flowers in shades of blue and purple are Wild Aster, while the tall spikes of magenta flowers are Fireweed. I recognized the black-eyed Susans, but the spiky pink blooms next to them are Wild Bergamot, also called Bee Balm, which I did not know.

Yes, I'm slow and stupid from all the sex and, you know, being in love, and it takes a minute for me to realize I have done something very, very, wrong and Luke is very, very pissed.

"I thought this thing was broken," he booms, waving the phone in my face.

"It was," I say, holding out my hand, but he doesn't give it back. "Ash fixed it for me."

Then I press my finger to my lips, and nod toward where Ash and Ranger are still sleeping.

"These sculptures are all amazing. Did you make all of these?" I ask in a hushed voice.

Luke's scowl deepens. He looks from me to my phone, then back to me. The last picture I snapped of the gnome is still visible on the screen.

"Are you fucking taking photographs back here?" he booms. Ash and Ranger don't stir, but I imagine they're exhausted and used to the booming.

"Yes, but—"

"What the hell are you even doing back here?"

I gesture at Ash and Ranger, this time with my hand, pointing clearly so he can't miss it. "We spent the night out here. And let's not wake them up, okay?"

"They brought you back here?" he demands. "Fuck not waking them up, I'm going to wake them up and kick their asses."

Uh, so much for the truce? Maybe this place is like his attic, off-limits?

"I'm sure they didn't mean any harm, Luke," I say, reaching out to touch his arm, hoping to calm him—

"You really don't want to fucking touch me right now, Goldilocks."

"I think Ash just wanted someplace really romantic for us to make love. I swear, I—"

"You can make love on the damned moon for all I care, just not fucking here," he grumbles. "No one is allowed back here. No one but me and my brothers."

"But the sculptures are so beautiful," I protest, because apparently stepping in doo-doo isn't good enough for me. I need to do a fricking jig in it. "Don't you want people to see your art? It is yours, right? You and the others made all of this?"

"If I wanted people to see this, I'd drag it all down to the foot of the damn mountain and put it out where all the looky-loos could get their drool on everything, ruining it all like they ruin every damn thing," he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement makes his biceps bulge.

Now is not the time to notice Luke's biceps bulging. Or anything else. Though right now the only other things that seem to be bulging are his eyeballs, like they might pop right out of his head and roll down the mountain.

"Luke," I say, "I won't show my pictures to anyone. I was just…so impressed. I should've asked for permission." I run my fingers over the smooth surface of a miniature mountain range on a pedestal right next to me. "But these are incredible. Like, blow-your-mind, make-you-question-reality incredible."

My mind is already racing with possibilities and I can't stop myself.

"You know," I start, my voice casual but my heart thumping with excitement, "we could totally sell these online. Etsy, maybe? Or your own website? They're one of a kind, right? And your craftsmanship is impeccable. You could make a bundle."

Luke's bushy eyebrows knit together, his nostrils flare, and his thunder-gray eyes flash with angry lightning. "No. Hell no."

"But think about it!" I press on, gesturing wildly. "We wouldn't have to use your names or anything. It could be anonymous, like Banksy. He's a street artist and people don't know his real identity." Or do they now? I don't know. But I forge on, "I could handle the shipping, the customer service. We could name it something like—"

"No," he growls. "And that's that."

Frustration bubbles up within me. "Even if you don't want to share your talent with the world, you need the money."

Luke's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Do we look like we're doing without anything to you? We're not starving, we have a roof over our heads—"

"Yeah, and you need a new one!" I cry.

"We make do," he huffs.

"Damn it all to hell, you are the most infuriating man I've ever met! You make do? Yeah, you make do, living in a cabin that feels like you're sardines in a very old, rusty can. Don't you want better?"

"We get by. We sell our smaller sculptures at the Piney Grove Trading Post and General Store. That's enough for us. Not everyone needs everything to be perfect, Goldilocks."

I glance back at Ash and Ranger, who are still sleeping. I could really use some backup right about now, my dudes.

"Perfect?" I scoff. "I'm not talking about perfection. The first time one of you sneezes, your cabin is likely to become a stack of firewood."

His eyes narrow, and I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "If our home isn't good enough for you, Little Miss Big City, you are more than welcome to get the fuck out of it."

I sigh. We are right back where we started. Maybe even worse off.

"This isn't about your home not being good enough for me, Luke," I say, softening my tone. "This is about your home not being good enough for you. Or your brothers. Not when you could afford so much better if you weren't so damn hardheaded."

We glare at each other, the tension crackling between us like a campfire on the verge of setting the whole damn forest ablaze. Probably not a good simile considering that we're on a mountain, literally surrounded by forests. Part of me wants to tackle him to the ground and kiss that sneer right off his face, the stubborn streak right out of him.

"And," I continue on, "don't act like it doesn't bother you too. You're the one who suggested cleaning the place. Have you considered maybe you don't have too much stuff, your place is just too small for it all?"

I can't believe I'm saying that, and almost believing it, because they absolutely have too much stuff.

His eyes narrow, and I swear I can see a vein throbbing in his forehead. It's kind of hot, in a "grumpy mountain man about to lose his shit" sort of way.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Now is not the time, Goldie.

"Well, you're leaving in two weeks, so it won't be your concern for long," he says.

"I may not be. Leaving. In two weeks," I blurt, because apparently my mouth is having a super duper time on this joyride without my brain behind the steering wheel.

Luke's eyebrows shoot up so fast I'm worried they might fly off his forehead entirely.

"What? Since when? Why?" he sputters.

"Because…um…let's wake up Ash and Ranger and they can explain." I know they're probably exhausted, but they can take a nap later, after this is all smoothed over.

"Or you can just tell me yourself, since you have a mouth and seem to loooooooooooooove using it," he says.

Okay. I can do this. I just need to gird my loins, whatever the hell that actually means. Put on my big girl panties. Spit it out.

"I know this was supposed to just be sex and friendship, but I fell in love."

He laughs. He actually doubles over laughing, which I didn't think was something people actually did. He is laughing hysterically.

When he finally straightens up, his shoulders are shaking and tears are rolling down his face. He laughed so hard at my declaration he cried. I can't help but wish the leakage had come from the other end.

"I hope you didn't pull that one on any of them," he says, finally getting a grip on himself. "One of those idiots might actually have believed you."

"How about don't call your brothers idiots, and also, Ash and Ranger did believe me, and I'm glad, because I'm being honest, and I hope the others will believe me too."

The silence that follows is so thick you'd need Grumpy Luke's freshly sharpened ax to swing and split it. And yes, he has re-earned that moniker. Totally.

Luke's face goes through a series of expressions so quickly it's like watching a time-lapse video of all four seasons. Shock, denial, anger, and finally—wait, is that fear?

"You fell in love with who?" he demands. "Goddamn it, Goldie."

"Now, Luke," I start, holding up my hands in what I hope is a placating gesture, "I know this might be a bit of a shock—"

"Which one of them are you in love with? You're going to break the others' hearts." He jabs a finger at me. "I told you this would happen. I told them you'd tear us—"

"Luke, that's not going to happen. I'm not going to break anyone's heart. I'm in love with them all. I could never choose one of them." And wow, I never understood when Winnie said she couldn't choose one of the Hammer brothers until right now, but I get it totally and completely. "And I'd never ask them to choose which one of them should get me."

"You're telling me you've fallen in love with ALL of my brothers? In less than a week? That's…that's…" Luke sputters.

"Efficient?" I offer helpfully. I don't know if I'm trying to lighten the mood or if there is really and truly something wrong with me.

Wrong move. Luke's eyes blaze and his face has turned an alarming shade of red that makes me wonder if spontaneous human combustion is actually possible.

"You think this is funny?" he bellows. "You think this is something to joke about?"

"No, I—"

"You don't even know us! Besides, you can't just…just…fall in love with nine men at once! That's not how it works!"

"Says who?" I challenge, crossing my arms. "The Mountain Man Mating Encyclopedia? The Lumberjack Love Laws? The Beard-Bearer's Guide to Romance?"

I'm defensive, because the irony is not lost on me that it hasn't been that long since I made the same argument to Winnie that Luke is using on me. Also, making up ridiculous book titles is keeping me from saying the startling words that are about to push my teeth out of my mouth in order to break free from my lips—I could fall in love with ten men at once, if Luke would give me a chance.