Ordered By The Mountain Man(23)

Boone raises an eyebrow. “What’s your fucking angle, Mason?” It’s clear from his tone they’ve had similar conversations in the past.

“My angle? Damn, bro, you’re a little uptight. Just wanted to check in on my new sister-in-law.” Mason sets a hand on my shoulder, squeezing, and I know it’s all to get a rise out of his brother.

I watch the exchange, unsure how to react. I can see the tension dripping from Boone’s face and, honestly, I know this isn’t my fight to win. This is something between the two of them. Something I don’t want any part in.

Mason is such a stereotypical douchecanoe, the way he’s clearly trying to rile Boone up. And it’s working. Guys like him aren’t not my type at all. If I was going to settle down with a man, it wouldn’t be Mason; I would want a man who didn’t need to dig at other men to feel good.

Boone, on the other hand, is the sort of man I’d choose. Sure, he’s rough around the edges, but he’s a man who knows himself.

But however not attracted I am by Mason’s personality, the corners of my mouth turn up as he rubs my shoulders, staring down his twin brother the entire time. I can’t help it, it’s kinda funny to watch a guy who looks identical to Boone act so different.

Boone doesn’t find it quite as humorous. Not even looking at Mason, he spreads jam on a piece of toast and speaks quietly, yet clearly. “Get out of here if you’re gonna be such a fuckhead.”

Mason throws his hands in the air in mock defeat. “Wow, bro. Lowbrow. I got it; you don’t want me messing with your goods.” He looks over at me, grinning a cocky, self-assured grin, reading me all wrong. I don’t think the way he’s acting is cute at all.

Boone doesn’t think it’s cute either. “I mean it, Mason. I spent yesterday cleaning up your mess, and you know I have your back—but shit, I’m not letting you mess with Delta.”

The dining room is empty except for us, and it’s awkward as hell sitting here with these two brothers who clearly have a shit-ton of history that I know nothing about. But I like the way Boone doesn’t let Mason get away with anything. It’s sexy the way he tells Mason exactly how it’s gonna be.

“You’re not gonna let me mess with her? How about what she wants? Maybe she wants a piece of me.” Mason stands, and Boone does too.

Fuck, this just got real.

“She won’t have any man but me,” Boone commands. “Understood? She’s my property. And you can fucking step away, Mason.”

“Dude, I don’t actually want your girl,” Mason says, shrugging. “I’m just joshin’ with you. Fuck, you’re always so damn intense.”

I pull in my bottom lip, biting back my words. This whole thing is pissing me off—like, hello, I’m right here.

And I may like Boone ordering me around in the bedroom—there, his orders feel sexy and playful—but hell no, I’m not anyone’s freaking property. This is not 1840 in the wild, Wild West. This is my life. And if he wants to be an ass about me doing yoga outside in the morning on the dock, fine. That’s his issue … but this just became my issue.

“You know what,” I say, standing. “That isn’t cool, Boone, to talk about me that way.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, you two need to grow the fuck up.”

I storm out of the dining hall, feeling totally worked up. It’s bullshit, and I need to get my head on straight.

I need to make some major decisions before Pastor Vince arrives.

And, unfortunately, Boone’s ego-riddled comments may have put the last nail in the coffin.





Chapter Thirteen





Boone





“What the fuck, Mason?” I yell, pushing him in the chest.

“Oh, step off,” he says, pulling back. “Don’t be such a pussy.”

“I’m not being a pussy. I’m letting you know you need to back the fuck up. I’m done dealing with your shit.”

“Well, this business is half mine,” Mason says, shrugging away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I get it, you’re not dealing with Mom and Dad’s death well—but fuck, don’t take it out on me. Besides, I never said you needed to go; I just said you need to stop acting like a fucking asshole.”

“You’re the asshole. Your woman just ran out of here.”

I turn toward the door leading to the deck. Shaking my head, I exhale.

“Seriously, Mason, when we open tomorrow I need things to go smoothly.”

“I hear you. But isn’t that what your woman is here to do—take care of everything for you? You don’t need me here at all.”