Claimed by 3 Mountain Men (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

18. Ben

18

BEN

T he four of us—Mac, Hank, JT, and I—are gathered around the long wooden table in the dining room, the same table we’ve all sat at countless times, but tonight, it feels like the room is holding its breath, waiting for something to snap.

We managed to set the trap earlier today, and everything is in place just as Mac had planned out. It had been a long, grueling process, but now, as we sit here, eating dinner in relative silence, the night feels different.

I know what’s on Hank’s mind, and it’s making it impossible to focus or think about anything else.

I saw it all evening into the night. It’s a look I know well.

It’s the same one I have. We want Mac again.

The firelight flickers across the walls, casting long, shifting shadows that seem to dance in time with the unease in the room. I watch Mac from the corner of my eye as she picks at her food, her mind clearly elsewhere. Her head is tilted slightly, the chandelier’s dim light catches on her raven-black hair, flowing down her back, making it shimmer like the dark waters of the creek that runs through our land. She wears it long most of the time, loose and free, just like she is.

There’s something wild about her, something untamed, and it suits her perfectly.

She’s been quiet since we got back, her thoughts probably tangled up in a mess.

JT knows we’ve been out together.

He saw us all come back to the lodge, watched us walk into the house and not mutter a word, but he wants to know.

He’s been glaring at Mac since we sat down, his jaw clenched so tight I half expect him to crack a tooth. He hasn’t said much, but the way he’s watching her, you’d think she was the one who’d set the traps.

Mac sets her fork down.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you, JT?” she asks. Hank and I look at one another. He does everything in his power to hold back a smile. She’s fearless and I find that hot as hell.

JT’s grip tightens on his glass, and I can see the tendons in his forearm bulge as he forces himself to relax.

“No, Mac,” he grumbles, taking a swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t have anything to say.”

But his eyes give him away, and Mac isn’t buying it. “Bullshit,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve been acting like a bear with a thorn in its paw since we got back. So, what’s the problem?”

“Come on, JT,” Hank says, unable to hide his amusement any longer. “You’ve been staring at her all night like she stole your favorite toy. Let’s hear it.”

JT slams his fist on the table, rattling the dishes, and I suppress a curse as I feel a tension headache beginning to form at the base of my skull.

“You want to know what’s bothering me, Mac?” JT asks, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“You, Ben, and Hank were out for hours. You don’t think that looks suspicious?”

“Suspicious?” I repeat, more than surprised to hear what he’s inferring.

“We were setting the trap,” she says, her chin lifting a notch. “Hank helped me carry the deer carcass while Ben set up the cameras. We were focused on catching the person setting traps on the land, not frolicking in the woods, if that’s what you’re implying.”

JT’s face reddens, and he looks away, but not before I see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And what about earlier? What were you two doing on the porch? It sure as hell didn’t look like you were discussing traps.”

Hank coughs into his fist, trying to hide a chuckle, and I shake my head.

“We were simply talking.” She tilts her head, and her dark eyes widen. “Is that a problem? Are you jealous?”

I’m positive I see JT’s ears turn a shade of red that would rival a ripe tomato. “I… I just…” he stammers, before letting out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know, Mac, okay? I don’t like that you’re out there.”

Hank snorts. “Yeah, because you’re her self-appointed bodyguard now?”

“No, but—” JT starts to retort, but Mac thankfully cuts him off.

“Enough,” she says, her voice firm but tired. “We don’t have time for this. We’re all on the same team here, and right now, our focus needs to be on stopping whoever’s been setting these traps, not bickering amongst ourselves. Understood?”

There’s a tense silence.

“I’m not jealous,” JT finally adds on, then pushes his chair back and storms out of the room.

“Well, that went well,” Hank mutters, once the bedroom door slams.

Mac sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, and I mean it.

JT’s been on edge ever since this whole thing started, and I can’t blame him. But taking it out on Mac was a low blow, and we both know it. “He’s just under a lot of pressure.”

Hank snorts. “That’s one way of putting it.”

Mac stands up, her chair scraping on the floor, and carries her plate over to the sink. “I’m going to get some fresh air,” she mumbles, and before either one of us can stop her, she’s out the door, slamming it behind her.

Hank and I look at each other, then he gets to his feet, and makes his way over to the liquor cabinet. After fussing through it for a moment, he pulls out a glass bottle of thick, heavy amber colored liquor.

“Tonight is a bourbon night,” he says, slamming a glass in front of me and himself.

“Pour one for me,” JT says as he emerges from his room.

“Now, you’re talking,” I say, sliding over a full glass after Hank pours it for him. “How you holding up?” I ask, watching him with a steady gaze. He lolls his head to the side, his gaze dropping toward the floor. “It’s hard to say. But I think I’m alright. I’ll feel better when this is all over. Dad’s lawyers are making some headway with the money and papers, but it’s going to go to probate and some other nonsense.”

His words fade, and we sit in silence for a moment, catching movement out the front window. It’s Mac.

The fading sunlight bathes her in a warm glow, accentuating the curve of her jawline and the delicate slope of her neck. Her full lips are slightly parted. She’s unlike any of the women around here. Hank and JT's gazes both linger on her figure, mesmerized by her beauty.

“There’s something about her that makes me…” JT’s voice trails off.

“Jealous?” I ask, finishing his sentence for him.

He looks at me, and then Hank, and then finally his gaze softens. “Yeah, I guess so. I just… I don’t know.”

Hank and I exchange a glance.

“What?” JT asks, picking up on our silent communication.

“I think you like her, man,” Hank says, unable to contain his grin. “You’ve got the fever bad, and it’s making you act like a certified asshole.”

“That’s not why I’m acting like a jerk. I’m trying to make sure she doesn’t fuck us over, all while dealing with the mess Dad left us. Or have you both forgotten?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You’ve got it all twisted. She’s out here trying to care for the forest. She’s doing a good thing. In fact, she could be helping us.”

JT finishes his drink in one swig then shakes his empty glass.

“I need another.”

I bring the bottle to the couch, where he’s sitting and set it on the coffee table in front of him.

“Did you hear what I said?” I ask.

“Yeah. I just don’t believe it.”

“You take everything too seriously,” Hank says, sitting down in the heavy armchair near the fireplace. “Life’s too damn short.”

Hank was right. Losing dad was a stark reminder that at any second, we could all lose everything that was important to us. We had almost lost Mac just the other night. It was a sobering thought.

I bend over and start a fire, tossing a few heavy logs into the fireplace. It takes a moment for the orange flames to ignite. Soon the warmth of the fire is spreading through the dark, still house.

“What if she’s right about Dad?” JT asks, breaking the silence.

I shrug. “Then we deal with it.”

“Fuck him. All that asshole cared about was making money,” Hank mutters, finishing his second stiff drink. “For all we know he deserved it.”

JT glares at him, his eyes flashing with anger. “Watch your mouth, Hank.”

“You know I’m right, JT. We have to stop pretending Luke Truitt was some perfect saint. He worked us to shit.”

“He taught us everything!”

“Remember when mom was sick? He worked every day while she was in the hospital, and didn't seem to notice until she had just a few days left to live.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say, cutting in. “Not tonight. Not with Mac out there. We’ve got bigger problems to deal with, like who’s been setting those traps and why. Mom and Dad are gone but we’re still here. So, let’s just keep an eye on her, and we wait for the trap to be sprung,” I say, pouring a second generous helping into my own glass.

The heat of the bourbon is starting to leach into my veins.

Hank takes a long sip, staring down at his glass like it holds the answers to all the questions neither of us is willing to ask out loud. “You think she’s telling us everything?” he finally says, his voice low, almost a whisper.

I swirl the bourbon in my glass, watching the liquid catch the light. “I think she’s here for a reason, and I think we’d be stupid to ignore that. But I also think she’s trying to do what she thinks is right.” The wood in the fire pops as it burns.

Hank grunts, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “JT’s right about one thing—she’s a wildcard. We don’t know her, and that makes her dangerous.”

“Maybe,” I concede, taking a sip of my drink. “But we’re in too deep to turn back now. We need her to get to the bottom of this, and she needs us. Whatever happens next, we’re all in this together.”

Hank is quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of the lodge. “You like her, don’t you?” he asks, his tone more curious than accusatory.

“Oh come on. Don’t act like we’re all in middle school here. I think we can all admit, we’re attracted to her, and we all have feelings for her.”

JT sets his glass down, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know, alright? Just… let’s keep our priorities straight, that’s all. We can’t let her—or whatever this is—get in the way of what’s really important.”

Hank sizes JT up and down, and then his eyes slide to me. “We’re on the same page, I promise. I don’t know about you, but I could use a distraction.”

“Distractions are the last thing we need,” JT says flatly, plopping his feet on the coffee table.

“Or the one thing we do need. She’s smart as hell, hot and a great catch. Plus, that mouth of hers…” he sinks deeper into the couch. “I’m just saying. Maybe we explore the possibility.”

“Of fucking her?” JT asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Not what I said.”

“You basically did say that” I shoot back to Hank.

“Well, we all want her, and quite frankly, I can’t get enough. JT’s just upset that he hasn’t yet.”

“Fuck off,” JT snaps. “Maybe I’m a gentleman.”

“No, you’re just an asshole,” I tease, punching his shoulder. He jumps to his feet and puts me into a headlock, like when we were younger.

“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be,” he chuckles. The alcohol hits all of us and we start laughing.

But before I can slam him into the couch, Mac steps into the room, her presence cuts through our conversation like a knife. Fuck. How much had she heard?