Her Silver Fox Mountain Men (Lucky Lady Reverse Harems)

Chapter 1

1

Elise

A rickety cabin in desperate need of repair in the middle of nowhere is all I can afford, but it’s safe, and the heating system works. The nights are cold on this side of the Rocky Mountains, even in summer.

The only current concerning issues are the mountain lions that have been spotted wandering nearby and the fact that my windows and doors don’t provide much in terms of protection.

Suddenly, I hear SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH .

I leap up from the sofa, my heart thudding like crazy, and take a deep breath to stop myself from fainting.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH .

“Oh, no,” I mumble, quickly picking up on where the noise is coming from.

“Fan-frickin’-tastic. Just what I need,” I say in a trembling whisper as I grab the nearest object—a measly wrought iron poker. I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do with it, but it’s better than nothing.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRATCH .

I take a couple of steps back, then embolden myself to go into the kitchen and investigate. It’s too dark to see anything outside.

SCRATCH-SCRATCH .

This time, it’s followed by a low growl.

“Oh, shit.”

I’m shaking like a leaf despite wearing my warmest jammies. What do I do? The window rattles ever so slightly. There’s no way the latch will withstand whatever’s out there. I’ve had trouble with it before.

My blood rushes through my veins, hot and cold at the same time, as I try to come up with a solution to a problem I didn’t foresee, one I had hoped I would never encounter.

Coming off a ten-hour shift at the diner has slowed my brain down to a near halt. I need to think of something, and fast.

The poker is shaking in my right hand.

With my left, I pick up my cell phone, intent on dialing 911.

No. I stop myself. It’ll take them forever to get up here. I’ll probably have become a tasty snack by the time the sheriff reaches this place.

I need another option.

Suddenly, it comes to me. My neighbor James. I got his number off of a sign in the window of the car he’s selling.

With trembling fingers, I manage to place the call, my gaze constantly darting back to the window in question. The nights are dark and terrifying up here. I still can’t see anything, but I can only imagine what kind of creature is out there.

“Hello?” a gravelly voice asks.

My heart skips an extra beat. “Hi, is… is this James?”

“This is James.”

“Yeah, hi, sorry to disturb you,” I say and clear my throat, realizing that I sound awful as I’m trembling down to my bones. “It’s Elise… your, um, your neighbor. You know, Mr. Ronald’s cabin?”

“It’s almost midnight,” James replies, his tone understandably flat. I feel awful. I probably woke him up.

“I know, I know, and I apologize. It’s just… there’s something scratching at my kitchen window, and I didn’t know who else to call. It’ll take the sheriff too long to get here, and I saw your number posted on the windshield of that Ford you had outside the gates.”

“Are you alone?” he asks.

“I am.”

He hangs up.

I freeze, my mind blanking out.

What the hell ?

A gasp escapes my throat as the scratching sound intensifies. It is now accompanied by an increasing rattle—the window frame is giving in to the repeated clawing motions. Dread washes over me, an icy sensation running up my spine.

I look around, holding my breath, waiting for something to happen, though I’m not sure what I’m expecting exactly.

Then I hear a gunshot. BANG !

I scream as the front door bursts wide open and in walks James McTierney. He’s shirtless, his grey pajama pants hanging low on his chiseled hips, a walkie-talkie clipped to his pocket. He’s a tall mountain man with broad shoulders and rippling pecs, his messy brown hair and matching beard sport specks of silver. But it’s his wide green eyes that have me hypnotized.

“What are you doing here?” I manage, out of breath. Without a word, he crosses the room and picks me up as if I weigh no more than a feather. I try to wriggle myself free, but his grip is tight, unyielding, as he holds me close.

“I just needed some help with the scratching,” I start babbling, my mouth moving independently from my brain. I can’t look away from this massive man.

“I can’t protect you and my twins in separate houses, so you’re coming with me,” he explains then proceeds to carry me out into the cool summer night.

“Hold on,” I say. “I need my things! I think the mountain lion is gone now.”

“It isn’t, and there’s more than one. I spotted them on my way in,” James says, looking straight ahead. He moves fast down the stony pathway connecting my cabin to the side road that leads right to his gates. “The only reason they stopped scratching at your window is because they heard me coming. You’re not staying here tonight.”

Dread finds me again as I summon the courage to look over his shoulder. It’s too dark for me to see anything but I can hear them.

The sound of heavy paws on the porch, the low growls, the sniffing, the window rattling again. My God, James is right; it’s almost as if we’re surrounded. I will be giving Mr. Ronald an earful as soon as I can get ahold of him over the phone. He could have warned me about the seriousness of the mountain lion issue. I don’t work my ass off at Laurie’s diner to pay this guy rent only to be on the dinner menu for the local wildlife.

We’re soon moving through the front gates of James McTierney’s mountainside property. Grey rocks jut out of the mossy ground, some illuminated by the moon that has finally emerged through a thick blanket of clouds. James carries me up a set of stone steps before setting me down.

I’m staring at an oversized cabin built on two levels with a sturdy river-rock foundation rising a few feet above tall wild grass. Outdoor lights are mounted above the front porch and at every corner of the house.

Oddly enough, I’m no longer afraid, and I realize I haven’t been since James first picked me up.

As we enter the cabin, I find myself standing in the middle of a spacious yet cozy living room. There’s a fire blazing in the stone fireplace, orange flames crackling as they devour the wood, and I welcome the warmth it exudes before I notice that we’re not alone.

“Oh,” I mutter at the sight of two other men.

James steps over to lock the front door then returns with a heavy sigh. “You’re better off staying here, Elise,” he says.

“Elise,” a blonde-haired man greets me, my name rolling warmly off his tongue as he gets up from an armchair and sets his book aside. “I’m Oliver,” he adds with a wry smile. He’s almost as tall as James and built like a linebacker, his grey loungewear doing little to hide his strong frame. “And this is Roman,” Oliver points to the second gentleman.

“Hi,” Roman says, his cool blue eyes scanning me from head to toe.

I need a minute to catch my breath and get my last two brain cells working in tandem again. “Sorry for the intrusion,” I say. “It’s just—”

“Mountain lions,” James cuts in. “This is Elise, our next-door neighbor.”

“Right, right,” Oliver replies. “I’ve seen you around. You work at the diner.”

“Yeah.”

My temperature is spiking under their persistent gaze, though I can’t look away from them. They’re all in their early forties, each one memorable in his own way. James is the tallest. I’m guessing he comes from an Irish background with his reddish-brown hair and green eyes. My fingertips suddenly itch with a need to touch his face, feel the coarseness of his beard, the tickle against my lips…

Oliver’s appearance reminds me of the stereotypical all-American jock, though his dark blonde hair and beard suggest he’s adjusted to the Colorado Rockies scene. Roman strikes me as the ultimate city guy who most likely moved out here for the peace and quiet. He has short black hair and a closely trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. He also looks like he hits the gym every day—his black sweater and jeans stretching over a bulking, rock-hard figure.

“This is awkward, maybe I should just call the sheriff,” I suggest but Oliver won’t hear of it.

“The sheriff will just call the Wildlife Service. The earliest they’ll be able get here is in a few hours, maybe morning, if they’re dealing with other similar issues,” he says. “That’s not going to work. There’s plenty of room for you here.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” I reply. “You’ve got friends here already and I noticed you were carrying a walkie—"

“I’ve also got twin daughters fast asleep upstairs,” James says, cutting me off. “They’re five. I only take the walkie in cases of emergency such as this when I have to run out of the house. I wasn’t sure what I would face when I got to your place, so I grabbed it on my way out the door.”

“Rescuing a pretty lady in distress is what you ended up facing,” Oliver chuckles.

Roman shakes his head slowly. “The mountain lion issue has gotten worse.”

He gets up from the end of the sofa and walks over to the window. “Come here, Elise. We have a clear view of your cabin. You can watch.”

“I can watch what?” I ask as I head toward him, James’ and Oliver’s eyes on me.

My heart’s in a different kind of race now as I reach Roman’s side and look out the window. Sure enough, there’s a decent view of my place from where I stand. Under the revealing moonlight, I can see movement. Big brown cats prowl the porch. It looks like one of them actually made it through that kitchen window.

“Oh, holy hell,” I mutter, mentally cursing Mr. Ronald again.

“I hope you didn’t leave any food out,” James says, setting the walkie-talkie on a side table close to the door. He walks to the mini bar in the opposite corner and pours himself a drink, his gaze frequently bouncing back to me.

Why do I feel so hot all of a sudden?

It must be the fireplace , I lie to myself because otherwise I’d have to admit that I’m in the presence of three ridiculously gorgeous mountain men who turn me on to the next level.

“They’re in the house,” Roman concludes, giving me a sideways glance. His lips part slowly, and I’m tempted to lick mine.

I look away and take a few steps back instead. “I brought some steak pie home from the diner. There were leftovers in a dish on the dining table. I forgot to put it away before I sat down to watch a TV show.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Oliver says. “A mountain lion can pick up a scent from several miles away. They’ve gotten too close, too brazen, over the past couple of years mostly on account of tourists. They’re getting even bolder now, hence the reoccurring incidents.”

“Great,” I mumble.

“Here, have a drink. It’ll help calm your nerves.” James offers me a tumbler of whiskey, which I gratefully accept. The burn feels grounding as it slides down my throat.

“We should help her,” Oliver suggests.

Roman motions to the armchair closest to the fireplace. “Have a seat, Elise. You should rest for a bit. This whole thing must’ve been harrowing.”

“You’re lucky James got to you in time,” Oliver adds with a slight smile.

“I see that now,” I reply and give James a nod. “Thank you for that. I’m sorry to intrude, really. I just didn’t know who else to call. You had the car up for sale and I saved your number, thinking I’d ask about it. My ride’s a pile of junk. It’s a miracle the engine starts at this point.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I was able to get to you before anything happened. And Oliver’s right—we’re going to help you.” Those green lasers pierce through my very soul as he speaks.

“How?” I ask. The whiskey is working, relaxing me until I feel as though I’m melting right into the armchair.

James takes a deep breath then sits down on the sofa. “Well, first of all, you’ll be staying here for the duration of the repairs.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“You kind of have to,” he interrupts. “And we don’t mind. There’s plenty of room upstairs. It’s a big house.”

“I noticed.”

Oliver smiles broadly. “Plus, it’s safer than your place. And the twins are a double bundle of joy to be around.”

“Your daughters?” I question, looking at James.

He nods once. “Their mother passed away just after they were born.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, his expression remaining stoic. “Still, it’s too much,” I add. “Staying here, I mean. It’s quite the bother.”

“Not for us, it’s not,” Roman politely replies. “And we’ll make sure old man Ronald keeps up his end of the deal as your landlord. Trust me, he’ll try to weasel his way out of the repairs. We’ll keep him on the straight and narrow and make sure he fixes the cabin, making it safe for you to move back in. Until then, you’re our guest here.”

“And you can use the car as well,” James adds, “the Ford that’s for sale.”

“Good grief, now it really is too much.”

“Hey,” he replies, giving me a small frown. “We’re neighbors, and neighbors help each other out. You’ve been around long enough for us to tell you’re a decent woman. You keep to yourself, stay out of trouble, keep up the cabin. And now you need help. Rustic is full of good folks. We are happy to do it; doesn’t cost us a thing.”

I can’t help but let a heavy sigh roll from my chest, relief washing over me. I’ve been on edge for so long, constantly looking over my shoulder, always afraid to be found…

“Okay,” I concede, offering a weak smile. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need,” James replies, leaning back on the couch. “We’ll take it one day at a time. And I’m serious about the Ford. Use it if you need to, then pay me for it when you can. Until then, it’s your loaner as long as you take care of it.”

“I will, I promise.”

This is all so strange, so unexpected.

It’s also wonderful, but I’m not used to the kindness of strangers. My life was not what I’d hoped for growing up. It got worse after I learned certain truths. I came to Rustic with nothing but fear and grief in my soul. It’s taken a long time to even think about the future again, to hope for peace and safety.

My parents raised a fighter, though. It’s just a shame they never got to see me grow up. They’d be proud, and they would tell me that I shouldn’t face every hurdle in life on my own and that, sometimes, it’s okay to let others help me.