Page 83 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

Outside, Turner’s waiting, and the operation comes closer with every hour that passes.

With nothing else to mark, certify, or upload, I’m restless, and Boone notices.

“Come here, Hollis.” He’s in the kitchen, wiping the counter.

“Why?”

“Because you’re pacing holes in my floor, and I require assistance.”

Boone’s made dinner an event this week, like he’s using food to wage a war against dread, even though the men don’t all sit down to eat at the same time.

One night, he made venison stew with red wine and mushrooms, and the cabin smelled incredible. Another night, we had trout with lemon butter and perfectly crisp potatoes. He made biscuits that were so buttery and flaky that Cade ate five, and he might have eaten more if Rhett hadn’t told him, dryly, to save some for the rest of us.

I step into the kitchen, where Boone’s laid out various vegetables, herbs, and enough garlic to repel an army of vampires.

“Need help with dinner? What are we making?”

“Something elaborate enough to keep your brain busy and simple enough that I can still kiss you while we cook.”

Rhett, who’s writing notes at the table, pauses and looks over.

Boone’s grin widens. “Problem, brother?”

Rhett makes eye contact with Boone and some sort of silent triplet communication passes between them before Rhett says, “Don’t burn dinner,” and returns to his notepad.

Boone leans in, his voice dropping into a wicked tone as he speaks close to my ear. “You heard him. We’ll start with carrots.” He sets the bunch of them in front of me, along with a peeler, then gives me a quick kiss before he goes to the sink to wash potatoes.

Rather than wash the whole pile of potatoes at once, he brings them over to the island one or two at a time, kissing me with each delivery. On his third trip, he comes up behind me, wraps his arms around me, and nuzzles my neck.

When I squirm and say his name, he licks my ear, and I squeal.

“Boone!”

He hugs me from behind. “Sorry, Wren. I’m trying to be good.”

Rhett clears his throat. “Seems like it’s difficult for you.”

“Excruciating,” Boone says with a straight face.

I laugh, and think how wonderful it isthat in the middle of all the fear and maps and armed men in the woods, the Wilder brothers still make room for lightness.

Boone watches me laugh, and the teasing look on his face changes into something more raw and naked.

Rhett loudly caps his pen and rustles his papers into a stack. “Going out for a perimeter check,” he tells us as he stands. “Back in twenty.” Then he pulls on a jacket and heads out the front door.

“Do you think we annoyed him?” I ask.

Boone slides his arms around me again, his hands dipping lower than before. “I think he was being generous.”

CHAPTER 37

WREN

It’s not until Boone’s hips press closer that I catch his meaning, then my brows lift in surprise. “He’s giving us privacy?”

He murmurs an affirmative response that’s more like a vibration on my skin as he brushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. Heat spreads from there, straight past my chest and down into my belly.

I set the carrot and peeler down, close my eyes, and let my head loll back as Boone’s mouth triggers all sorts of pleasant sensations.