Chapter 19
Set Piece: Collective term for the scrum, line-out, and sometimes the restart.
Translation: He’s just not that into you.
Everly
“You are cordially invited to Mountain Men for a Mission: A charity auction where brawny mountain men are sold for a day of
handyman work to raise funds for Mount Millie Rescue Center. Throw on your cowboy hat and flannel and bid on a mountain man
who can clean your gutters, paint your house, or fix your toilet! There will be vendors, inflatables for the kids, and a petting
zoo featuring our star resident rescues.”
I pause reading from my furry notebook to register the reactions of two of my three uncles, who stand in the middle of Mount
Millie’s feed room staring at me like I’ve sprouted two heads. I really wish Luke were here right now. He’s always been my
biggest cheerleader, so he would probably handle this idea a little bit better than Wyatt and Calder. But he’s busy raising
a newborn next door to me with Addison. I could have called my grandma in for reinforcements this morning, but she’s been
sleeping over at Luke and Addison’s ever since they got home from the hospital, so she’s busy too.
I’m on my own here and need to sell this idea to my uncles because it doesn’t work without their participation.
I swallow the knot in my throat as I continue reading from my flyer. “Stick around for a barn dance later that night. All proceeds go to our furry, feathery, and scaly friends at Mount Millie. Event date and details below. We hope to see you there!”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Calder drones, shaking his head. “You want to auction me off to a stranger for manual
labor?”
“Yes.”
“Dakota will not like this, even if it’s just for manual labor and not sex.”
“It’s for charity,” I argue, shooting my uncle a dazzling smile. “And it’s not much different than what you guys did for Luke
at the lumberjack competition a couple years ago, if I’m not mistaken. Didn’t you guys literally offer to do a guy’s plumbing
if he’d throw an axe-throwing competition?”
Calder frowns back at me.
I lift my brows with determination. “I’ve analyzed the cost versus impact, and this is a low-cost, high-reward event. And
we can advertise the Visitor Sundays to a big audience this way.”
I slide my eyes over to Wyatt, who doesn’t look much happier, but then he shocks all of us with a nod. “It’s a good idea.”
“What?” Calder bellows, turning on his brother. “You think it’s a good idea for us to be auctioned off like pieces of meat?”
“It’s for Trista,” Wyatt replies, and the eye contact between him and Trista is eye-contacting. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear my uncle knows his wife is pregnant. Though maybe he thinks they’re still in the
“trying” stage, and that’s why he’s looking at her like that.
Trista hits him with a knowing look, and I have to look away. I love love and all that, but I do not need to see my aunt and uncle doing baby-making eyes at each other.
Yet still? I smile.
“However, I have a better idea . . .” Wyatt says, holding up a finger. “Instead of auctioning off me, Calder, and Luke, what about auctioning off single rugby players for dates instead? Less liability.”
My throat instantly goes dry at the mention of the sport the man who spent a fair amount of time between my legs plays.
“Oh, my God, yes!” Trista’s eyes practically bug out of her head.
“Wolf has access to a whole team,” Wyatt continues, crossing his flannelled arms over his chest. “And we’ve already been in
contact with his coach to register his hours. Surely, we could get a few on board to help with this charitable endeavor.”
“Genius, babe!” Trista stands up on her toes to give Wyatt a big kiss on his bearded cheek. “Single rugby players will totally
draw a crowd, and they can promote their new team. A win-win.”
“Wolf just started that training camp,” I reply weakly, my stomach twisting into knots. “I’m not sure he’s going to be able
to convince his teammates to take part in this.”
“Then you can,” Wyatt says, smiling proudly at me. “If anyone can convince them, it’s you, Eves.”
I laugh weakly, staring down at my notebook like it’s somehow going to produce a reason for this not to work. “This escalates
the size of the event to a level I wasn’t prepared for. And it doesn’t really match my branding plan.”
“Call it Mountain Men and Friends,” Calder offers with a big grin. “And bigger is always better. Great idea, Papa Bear.”
“Have a meeting with Wolf about it and make a plan to go with him to training later this week,” Trista says with a knowing
waggle of her brows.
I blow out a long, slow breath. Great idea. Now I just have to talk to the boy who is currently raging pissed at me for leaving
last night. No problem. No problem at all.
Wolf
My tasks at Mount Millie aren’t too complicated. Help check in new rescues, feed and water the animals, muck out the pens
and paddock, and wash the animals when they need it.
I also fix things that need fixing, like broken fence lines, gate latches, water tanks, whatever Trista finds. I’m not the
handiest guy out there, but I can manage basic tasks as long as they don’t get too mechanical. And so far, most jobs are pretty
random. She makes me a to-do list every workday and pins it on the board in the feed room, so I always start my days down
here by checking the board to see what weird, random tasks might be on my agenda for the day.
One day, she had me paint stenciled name tags on the outside of every pen . . . an order that apparently came from Everly.
This is one of a few tasks that are in preparation for the event she’s hosting here in a couple of weeks.
Today, Trista tasked me with unloading a flatbed of fresh hay that was just delivered. It’s a miserable fucking job of carrying
about fifty bales up a ladder to store in the loft area above the barn that’s likely made for hobbits, not my giant six-foot-five
arse.
But I relish in the grueling labor today. I need it to calm myself down. It took every ounce of my strength not to go banging
on Everly’s door last night after I came out of the shower to find her gone.
One second, I was going to take a cold shower to chill out (and clean myself up after blowing it in my trousers like a damn
teenager). The next, I come strolling out of my bathroom in my towel to read her insane fucking text messages.
I needed a second cold shower just to not completely explode.
But as I’ve worked on this mindless job all morning, blasting my grunge rock in my ears, I’ve decided what Everly did was for the best. What I felt for her last night was way too fucking intense. It was impulsive and reckless and should absolutely never happen again.
I was angry at first when she left. Maybe even hurt. Now, I’m grateful. Grateful that she made the decision to put some much-needed
space between us. Nothing about us makes any sense, and I need to remember that.
My temper is mildly calmed by the time I toss the last bale up above my head to drop it on top of the stack of the others.
I’ve built some sort of crooked castle walls up here that I bet Stevie would love to play in.
Weirdly, I miss that little tyke today. I’ve gotten kind of used to her tagging along while I did all my work, and she’d be
a good distraction for me.
But it’s good to get some distance from her too. I can’t get too attached to any of this Fletcher family. I have a goal of
getting the fuck out of here as soon as I can, and my time is better served working out and focusing on rugby.
Final bale in place, I use the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat pouring off my brow, and when I lower it, I jump at the image
of Everly standing up in the tiny hay mound with me.
“You scared the shite out of me,” I pant, my chest heaving as I pull my headphones off my ears.
“Sorry, I was calling up to you, but you couldn’t hear me,” she says, looking sheepish. The space feels ten times smaller
with Everly’s presence in here now soaking up all the natural light. Her eyes take in the damp shirt clinging to my body.
“Looks like you’re the one who needs first aid this time,” she says, offering me a weak smile.
I glance down at my slick arms, covered in tiny scratches from the hay. My veins bulge angrily from the exertion. This is
probably why those mountain brothers wear flannel all the time.
I blink as I struggle to look back at her as sunlight pours in through the skylights, giving her an angelic halo. Dust particles float in the air between us, making me feel like I’m in the middle of another Everly Fletcher dream.
She looks beautiful. So beautiful I almost forget why I’m mad at her.
Almost.
I shake my head and pull my gloves off, stuffing them in the back pocket of my jeans. “I’m just grand,” I grumble and make
my way over to her, passing her by without another look.
“Do you have a second to talk?” she asks, grabbing my arm and stopping me in my tracks.
I stare at her delicate hand on my arm, and she pulls it back like she knows she shouldn’t have touched me. “We don’t need
to talk.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, biting her lower lip. “You seemed pretty mad in your texts. And now.”
“I’m not mad. Just surprised.”
She rubs her lips together and nods. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I was just . . .”
“You were just what?” I snap, turning to face her fully as my anger returns with full force. “What were you, Everly? What
could have possibly been going through your mind when you left last night?”
Her blue eyes are crystal clear and stunning in this gold lighting. “I was freaked-out, okay?”
My eyes widen as I dip my head forward like I need to be closer to hear her. “What freaked you out, exactly? I need you to
be specific.”
“Nothing.” She jerks her head back, looking shy.
“That is the opposite of specific.”
“It’s hard to talk about.” She blushes and looks away from me.