Page 10 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

Cade doesn’t say anything, but he’s watching me with the same focus he directs at everything along the trail, and it makes it impossible for me to think straight.

Rhett steps closer. Close enough that I have to tip my head back slightly to meet his eyes. “Come to dinner, Wren.”

The air is still warm, but a shiver runs through me when he says my name in his low, rough voice.

I draw in a breath and fold my arms in front of me to try to regain my composure. “Do you invite all your clients to dinner?”

“All our clients who hire us for more than one day,” Rhett says smoothly.

Boone coughs into his fist, and Cade’s mouth twitches, but Rhett doesn’t even glance at them. He just keeps looking at me, calm, serious, and absolutely lying.

“We need to go over routes for the next few days,” he adds.

“Right.” I nod slowly. “Go over routes.”

I should say no, because the last thing I need is to be alone with all three Wilders in a space smaller than the wide open wilderness. But there are three pairsof eyes fixed on me, and I still must not be thinking straight, because I find myself saying, “Fine. For work reasons.”

Boone’s wicked grin reappears, and Cade looks down like he’s hiding something on his face. Rhett’s smile deepens just enough to make my stomach flip, and I suddenly feel like a rabbit who just agreed to have dinner with three wolves.

CHAPTER 5

WREN

Back at my motel room, I tug off my boots and find a smear of dirt on the inside of my wrist I didn’t notice before. When I pull the tie out of my hair, which smells faintly of pine and sweat, my back muscles groan.

Before I take my clothes off, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and look at myself with a level of scrutiny I tell myself is professional.

I’m going to have dinner with the Wilder brothers.

At their cabin.

For work reasons.

I repeat that last part a couple of times. I say it aloud a few more times while I shower, and then again while I pull on clean jeans and a soft green sweater.

I dry my hair, giving it a small curl at the ends, and put on tinted lip balm because the mountain air and sun have been hard on my lips. I’m just making myself presentable because it’s the polite thing to do.

My concern for my appearance has nothing to do with Rhett standing close to me and telling me to come to dinner like refusal wasn’t an option. I didn’t curl my hair because Cade watches me like he’s memorizing every step I take, or because Boone’s smile makes my pulse stutter.

They’re my guides, and I need to go over routes with them.

This is true, but it doesn’t explain why my stomach is fluttery when I turn into the long gravel driveway that leads to their cabin. Or why pulling in here at night feels very different than arriving before dawn.

I put the truck in park in front of their house, but don’t immediately cut the engine. I don’t know if I’m giving myself a pep talk or debating if I should turn around and leave when the front door of their cabin opens, and Rhett steps onto the porch, the warm light from inside outlining his tall frame.

There’s no turning back now, not that I was ever going to leave.

After engaging the brake and turning off the engine, I reach for the door handle, but Rhett beats me to it. His eyes drink me in as he helps me out of the truck, and his sharp focus and seductive grin almost have me second-guessing whether I’ve identified him correctly.

“You didn’t have to clean up for us,” he says.

I look down at my sweater, then back at him. “I cleaned up for me.”

His eyes hold mine for an extra beat, and the intensity in his expression leaves me with no doubt this is Rhett. He’s changed out of his trail clothes, too, and has the clean smellof soap on his skin, fresh and warm with hints of leather and cedar. Dark jeans hug his muscular thighs, and a wine-colored henley, pushed up to his elbows, makes his tan skin especially enticing.

This is a business dinner, Wren.

But my eyes drop to his strong, capable hands marked with small scars, and I can’t help thinking he looks less like a guide waiting for a client and more like a predator standing at the mouth of a den.