Chapter 7Goldie

Chapter 7

Goldie

T heir immediate response to my name is nothing new. Around the table, their faces all register surprise.

It's Grumpy Luke who comments first, which is pretty much to be expected at this point.

"Your name is Goldielocks?" he asks with a scowl. "And what, we're the ten fucking bears?"

"You're puttin' us on," Rusty says.

I roll my eyes. "No, I'm not, and it's not Goldielocks. Very original, definitely haven't heard that one a million times before." I shake my head. "My name is Rose-Gold Locke, but only my mother calls me Rose-Gold. Everyone else calls me Goldie."

My name is another one of my mother's messes, a name she thought sounded pretty without thinking through the consequences of what it would do to me during my school years. I changed my nicknames all the time as a young teen as I settled into my identity. Rose, Rosie, RG…but after a lot of experimentation, I discovered my natural hair color suits me best, and with a head of curls like mine, Goldie always fit the best too. And after nearly thirty years, I've actually grown attached to Goldie Locke. It's who I am.

"And," I continue, "to answer why I'm here, on the mountain, it's because I'm camping. I didn't know it was your mountain."

"You're camping," Grumpy Luke repeats. His brows are up and he doesn't look at all impressed with my declaration. "Ah. You got lost on your way to the Wilderness Haven Retreat and Lodge, you mean. Well, that's not camping, but Lynx will get you there after—"

"I wasn't on my way to the Wilderness Haven Retreat and Lodge. I'm camping," I state again. Firmly. "Actual camping. With a tent. In the wilderness. Roughing it."

Grumpy Luke smirks.

"By yourself?" Ash—I think—asks. "Or with…do you have a husband?"

I can't help the smile that creeps into the corners of my mouth at his curiosity.

"I do not," I say.

Grumpy Luke growls. "Get any ideas out of your heads, right now, all of you."

I don't know…part of me kind of wants to hear about the ideas they have in their heads, especially after seeing what's happening with their delicious, too-big-to-be-real cocks.

Sheesh, my libido needs to calm the fuck down.

"And," I add, "I'm camping alone."

My mother's voice in my head also needs to calm the fuck down, because she's telling me I should be claiming that I'm camping with a whole damn rifle-bearing football team that'll kick their asses if they touch a curl on my head.

"It's not a good idea to camp alone," Ash—I think—says. "What if you'd fallen in the woods and gotten hurt and we hadn't been there to rescue you?"

"Well," I say. "If you hadn't been chasing me, I wouldn't have been running, and I wouldn't have fallen and gotten hurt."

"That mud is never going to come out of my good pants," Grumpy Luke mutters.

"She has a point," Lynx says. "Speaking of, after you're done eating, I'd like to examine your ankle more thoroughly."

"And I'd like to examine the rest of you," Clay says.

My cheeks instantly heat at his comment, but instead of being embarrassed by the joking, a shot of pleasure hits my belly.

Lynx looks like he swallowed something spicy. His cheeks, or what I can see of them under his out-of-control black beard, glow red. Maybe he just got a good whiff of Clay's stew. "I mean, it wouldn't hurt. Just to make sure you don't have any other injuries."

Oh my goodness, he was blushing. Adorbs.

"Lynx wanted to be a doctor," Hunter tells me. "He won't do anything inappropriate, Miss Goldie. You have my word."

I glance again at Lynx, whose blushing has intensified. His knuckles are turning white as he tightly grips his spoon.

Well, damn. His fingers are the size of…well. Let's just say he doesn't have small hands.

But the part about him wanting to be a doctor is even more fascinating.

"Oh? What kind of doctor did you want to be, did you have a specialty in—"

Luke cuts off my question. "Lynx doesn't have a medical degree. She needs to drive herself to the hospital and they'll do X-rays and whatnot. Now everyone, cut the yapping and eat your lunch."

Once again, the brothers listen to Alpha-Bigfoot. As we eat, I steal glances around the table, trying to figure them out, and they're all watching me with the same curiosity. I know I need to be heading back to my car and/or campsite, but I find myself drawn into their world, and I don't want to leave yet. I'm eager to uncover the story of who they are, why they're here cut off from the world. And why none of them do any grooming.

I need to know the story.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Miss Goldie," Nash—or is this one Ash?—speaks up. He looks around, plucks a cloth napkin out of Clay's lap, and wipes his mouth with it.

I feel my nose scrunch up but Clay apparently doesn't mind, so why should I? I smooth my face out.

"You don't look like the outdoorsy type," Nash finishes.

"What's that supposed to mean? I was wearing hiking boots. And camo."

A smile teases the corner of his mouth. "Your camouflage was pink."

"And sparkly," Grumpy Luke adds, even though he's the one who keeps telling everyone to hurry up and eat.

"Well, I'm a sparkly person," I say.

I've gotta say—Grumpy Luke, the Alpha-Bigfoot of this pack of mountain men, is the most intriguing of all. What is his deal?

"Like your phone," one of them says—Ash or Nash—and I see he has my sunglasses in one hand and my phone in the other. "Very pink, very sparkly."

"My phone!" I squeal.

"It's all muddy. It's not working, either, but you won't get phone service here anyway."

"And I'm afraid to say this thing didn't make it."

The one called Ranger has my high-speed action camera in his baseball mitt of a hand, holding it up so we can all see it's completely smashed. How is that even possible when these things are built for the great outdoors? Damn. How am I supposed to make a documentary with a busted camera and a busted ankle?

"Fancy sunglasses, Miss Goldie," Buck says as I take them back and slide them onto the top of my head. "They look like something a movie star would wear."

"The fuck do you know about movie stars?" Luke. Obviously.

"Is that what you are?" Clay says with a grin that makes his eyes twinkle in a way I find quite appealing. "Oooh-wheee. Have we got ourselves a real-life movie star in this cabin? Can't say I've ever kissed a movie star."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not a movie star," I answer. I am actually sorry if they're disappointed. For some reason that I can't quite figure out, I want to make a good impression on these guys.

"Wait. You were filming us with that camera, weren't you?" Ash/Nash asks suddenly, and it's like the air has gone out of the room with a whoosh. There are ten sets of wide eyes on me, ten mouths settling into firm lines of displeasure. Even Clay's ever-present smirk has morphed into a frown.

Ash/Nash leans forward, elbow on the table, interrogating gaze on me like he's a seasoned detective. "What were you doing up here, filming us?"

"Wait, what?" Luke demands. "She was recording you?" He turns to me. "You were recording them?"

I shake my head, then nod. "Yeah, but only because I thought you were all a bunch of Bigfoots," I admit. "And it's not like it matters, because the camera and my phone seem to be out of commission, so any footage I took with either is—"

"Who told you about us?" Rusty asks.

"What? No one told me about…"

I trail off when Grumpy Luke gives his head a shake, his lip curled up in disgust. He slams his fist down on the table, causing me to jump. He's absolutely terrifying in a hot, monstrous god kind of way. Yet still…I don't feel at all threatened or in danger of any sort of harm.

"Let's not lose our tempers," Ranger says. He gives his hair a tug and shifts in his chair. "But we do need to know your intentions, Miss Goldie."

Lynx looks disappointed in me. "That's why we initially chased you, but then when we saw you up close, you were so pretty, I guess we kind of forgot about that."

"Of course. She was blathering about Bigfoots and how she found a nest of 'em when she first bashed into me. Let's just get to the point," Grumpy Luke snarls. "Who sent you up here and why?"

His gruff voice is fierce, and I look from man to man in shock. All of a sudden, they all seem to have their hackles raised. But I suppose the decision to live as off the grid as they do has to be rooted in a little bit of paranoia. And once again, I'm baffled that anyone would want to live all the way out here, obviously secluded and cut off from the world.

"Sent me?" I shake my head. "Nobody sent me up here. I wanted to come camping, so I came camping. I may not be the stereotypical outdoorsy type, but I am the type who does whatever the hell I want to do. I've been to this mountain once before, when I was younger, and I don't remember anyone owning the mountain. I have good memories here." I've never really acknowledged it before, but that moment when I got saved by Bigfoot is actually one of my favorite memories. I felt so safe. "I wanted to come back. So I did."

"Where's your campsite?" Ranger asks. His light brown beard is the most gnarly of them all, but his mouth is the most kissable mouth I have ever seen. His full lips look deliciously red, like he's just eaten a wild ripe strawberry that left them stained. Above them, his blue eyes are filled with confusion or wariness, or something that has me totally perplexed.

He's worried, I realize. Deeply worried.

"Down river from where I stumbled upon you all," I say. "Is that okay? It's not an official campground or anything, but…it's not on your property?"

Rusty crosses his arms. I can hardly see his skin peeking through the hair on them. "The whole mountain is ours."

"Oh." I press my lips together. And I wonder if this is it—if my time with them, my time on the mountain, is up. If my documentary is dead in the water before I even had a chance to get going with it. I haven't found out anything about anything yet.

I wipe my mouth with my napkin, about to debate my options when Grumpy Luke says, "Lynx will help you take down your tent and pack up before he walks you back to your car. If you want to camp alone and get eaten by a bear, it's your funeral, but you can't stay on this mountain."

I don't even have my tent up yet, but they don't need to know that. I narrow my eyes, ready for a challenge. "So…if I went to, say, the clerk's office for whatever county has jurisdiction over this area, I would find property records to verify that this mountain—or at least some of it—is not, in fact, public land."

The way Grumpy Luke's eyes narrow tells me that I, in fact, would not find those records.

"Listen," I tell him, "I'll respect your privacy and I'll stay off whatever part of the mountain is yours, if you'll just show me where the property lines are, but as far as I'm concerned, unless proven otherwise, the rest of the mountain belongs to the people and I'm not trespassing or doing anything illegal by camping on it."

"And no more peeking on us while we bathe?" Ash—or is it Nash?—asks. The two don't look anything alike, other than the beardiness and burliness and long hair—I just missed who Grumpy Luke pointed at when he said Ash and who he pointed at when he said Nash since they're sitting side by side.

Once again, my cheeks are flaming. "That was an accident. And it was your choice to run after me in your birthday suits. And it's not like my own modesty has been completely spared. If you haven't forgotten, Rusty has seen me in nothing but a pile of bubbles."

Rusty is the one with the flaming cheeks this time. "I didn't see anything but bubbles!" he sputters. "You saw me in my underwear."

"You have a very nice butt," I say sweetly.

"As do you," Clay says to me with a playful wink, pulling a grin out of me even though any other guy would have gotten my iciest stare for all of his unsolicited body comments. I tell myself it's only because it would be hypocritical of me to be annoyed with Clay for vocalizing appreciation of my ass when I started it by bringing up Rusty's.

"As do you," I echo, returning his wink, because though I haven't really gotten a good look at his backside, I'm sure it's true.

"Would y'all like us to just push everything off the table onto the floor so you can mate right here and get it over with?" Luke demands. He gets up. "I'm having dessert."

I mean, if I had prior sexual experience and wasn't saving my V-card for Mr. Perfect and the Perfect First Time, I'd be inclined to say, yes, let's do that.

"Here's the deal, Gold," Hunter says. "This is not the first time someone has come up here, nosing around, trying to get a blurry picture of us to sell, claiming they've spotted a real, live Sasquatch. We live the way we live because we like the peace and we like the quiet and we generally like being left alone and we definitely like not being exploited. So if you're just another looky-loo out to make a buck off our size and appearance, please leave. We're humans, not some freak-of-nature sideshow."

There's a hurt in his hazel eyes that hurts me.

I shake my head again. "No, it's not like that. At all."

How can I explain? I struggle for the words as he pulls a rubber band—a plain, elastic, office-supply store rubber band—off his wrist and wrangles his sandy-blond mass of locks back into a ponytail. I shake my head, because now is not the time to focus on how much damage that is causing to his hair!

I clear my throat. "I didn't even know anyone lived up here. I heard a noise. Lots of noises—you're hardly quiet. I had my phone because I live in modern times, I get calls, I get texts…" I give an uneasy laugh. "My phone is like an extension of my arm. And I had the camera to take pictures and videos of the scenery. I'm not just another looky-loo. I would never exploit anyone that way. That's horrible."

And it's why I don't want to work for any of the salacious shows I'm getting offers for, the trashy ones that do just that.

They're all exchanging looks and I know it means they're having some silent discussion on whether or not to kick me out.

Finally, it's Rusty who speaks up. He sighs a real deep sigh first, as if he's having some kind of massive internal conflict. "It's going to be real cold tonight up this high. You know how to build a fire?"

I smile, feeling a small wave of relief for some reason, that he still seems to care even though his get out, get away vibes were initially just as strong as Grumpy Luke's. I nod. "I watched some videos online and practiced a couple of times. I can manage."

Grumpy Luke has returned with a pie. A whole pie. He's standing, holding it in both hands, eating it like it's a hamburger, his beard catching all the crumbs. So many crumbs. So much beard. Such gorgeous intense gray eyes.

Quite frankly, I don't think I've ever been so confused in my entire life. I turn my attention back to Buck, who's speaking.

"I don't know," he says. "Might be better if you stay here at the cabin tonight. Especially since you're hurt. We can go fetch your things and bring them back here. In the morning, we can either take you to your car so you can go to the hospital, or back to your campsite. It's supposed to be warmer for the rest of the week, right, Ash?"

"Yes."

A-ha! Now I know which one is Ash—black hair like Lynx and Brooks, and he looks younger than Nash, who has chestnut-brown hair, by at least five years or so, maybe more.

"Um…" I say. The thought of getting to spend the night here, getting to know these men, talking to them more, getting to know their story…it's intriguing.

Mother would have a fit if she knew, which makes it even more enticing.

Mother…

On the other hand, I have no way to get in touch with her to let her know what's going on, and if she and Clive are truly over, she's going to—

"No," Grumpy Luke says. He gets up. I hadn't even noticed him sit back down. "I'm sorry, Goldielocks, but when we were in the mud, you did say you managed to find a nest of Sasquatches…"

Should I just come clean? I decide no. They're not going to believe my intentions are pure if I admit to the truth.

"And I'd just been knocked silly." I point at the lump still growing on my head. "Is it really that hard to believe I'd be spouting nonsense? And as for spouting nonsense about Sasquatches, well, you are big and hairy and my vision was blurry from being knocked silly!"

"Really can't fault her for that, Luke," Hunter says.

"Well, she can claim she's innocent all she wants, but I'm not just going to take your word for it and—" He shakes his head with a huff as his brothers start to stand up, one by one. "Never mind. I know I'm outnumbered. But I'm warning all of you. She may be one hell of a pretty stranger, but she is a stranger."

"It's just one night, Luke," Nash says. "You'll stay with us one night, won't you, darlin'?"

"Don't trust her," Luke says before I can answer.

Is he crazy? It's them you shouldn't trust! Mother's voice shrieks.

But the voice in my gut begs to differ.

"Yeah, I'll stay with you one night," I say.