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  Property of the Mountain Man

  Montana Mountain Men #1

  Copyright © 2020 Gemma Weir

  Published by Hudson Indie Ink

  www.hudsonindieink.com

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Design by Rebel Ink Co.

  Property of the Mountain Man/Gemma Weir – 1st ed.

  ISBN-13 - 978-1-913904-71-5

  Contents

  ***Warning***

  1. Bonnie

  2. Beau

  3. Bonnie

  4. Beau

  5. Bonnie

  6. Beau

  7. Bonnie

  8. Beau

  9. Bonnie

  10. Beau

  11. Bonnie

  12. Beau

  13. Bonnie

  14. Beau

  15. Bonnie

  16. Beau

  17. Bonnie

  18. Beau

  19. Bonnie

  20. Beau

  21. Bonnie

  22. Beau

  Epilogue

  Owned by The Mountain Man

  Acknowledgments

  This is for me and all of you out there who love their fictional men to be big, sexy, and 100% alpha.

  ***Warning***

  I’ve never put a warning at the start of a book before, but this time I feel like I need to, so here goes.

  This book contains an over the top, jealous, unreasonable, possessive asshole.

  If you consider unapologetic alphaholes unacceptable, or feel their behavior is in someway abusive, then this isn’t the book for you.

  If, however, like me you love a guy who is so obsessively in love with his girl that he will snarl, demand, punish, and fuck her until she gives herself to him completely, then read on and welcome to the world of my Montana Mountain Men.

  1

  Bonnie

  “Welcome to Wake Up and Go Go, what can I get you?” I ask, trying to hide the weariness from my voice.

  “Cappuccino to go, extra shot, extra foam,” the guy says absentmindedly as he taps at the screen of his cell.

  I busy myself making his drink, blinking hard and forcing my eyes open wider as I try to keep myself awake. My shift should have ended at three today, but my asshole boss didn’t bother to turn up, so here I am still serving coffee nearly fourteen hours after I got here.

  I wouldn’t mind if this was the first time I’d ever had to work more hours than what was on my schedule, but it’s not. In fact, it’s not even the first time this week, and it’s only Wednesday. Owen, my boss and the owner’s son, always puts me on the early shift so he doesn’t have to get up and open the shop at six am, but then he conveniently forgets that he’s supposed to be here to take over from me in the afternoons too.

  “Two fifty please,” I say, yawning as I hand the coffee over the counter to the customer and take the five-dollar bill he’s holding out for me.

  “Keep the change,” he says not bothering to look at me as he turns to leave, his cup to his lips before he even gets out the door.

  “Thank you,” I call after him as the door swings shut.

  Sighing, I grab a cloth and make my way over to a newly vacated table, grabbing the empty cups and wiping the table clean. I make my way back behind the counter, drop the cloth into the small sink beneath it, and carry the cups to the huge dishwasher in the back. Stacking the mugs in the plastic tray, I pull the clean load from the steamy dishwasher and swap it for the tray of dirty, sliding the clean tray into the rack to dry.

  The bell on the front door dings. “I’ll be right with you,” I call, quickly washing my hands and drying them on a towel as I rush back to the front of the store. “Welcome to Wake Up and Go Go, what can I get you?” I ask without looking up.

  “Large black coffee, please, and a bear claw if you have one,” a gruff, familiar voice says.

  Snapping my head up, I’m met with the sight of Beau Barnett. There’s perfect and then there’s Beau; at well over six-feet tall, he towers over my diminutive five-feet one inches. His hair and beard are dark brown, his skin tan from working outside all day. His arms are muscled and huge, and I have to hold in the desperate sigh that always fights to escape whenever I’m near him. I can imagine myself in his arms, held in his warm, sexy embrace. I can picture what it feels like to be beneath him, surrounded by his massive body, pinned down, completely at his mercy. In fact, that’s one of my recurring dreams.

  Only he has no idea who I am, none at all, which is kind of ridiculous given how small the town we live in is and the fact that I’ve lived in the house next door to his family home my entire life.

  He clears his throat and I jump into action. Spinning away from him, I place a mug under the expresso machine, twisting the grinds valve free and emptying it before refilling it and setting the machine to brew.

  While it hisses and whistles, I place the last bear claw, the one I’ve hidden all day just in case he came in, onto a plate and slide it onto the counter, then I switch off the machine and place the mug of freshly brewed coffee next to the pastry.

  “That’s five fifty, please,” I tell him, bracing myself as I lift my eyes and look up into his glorious face. Beau has the face of an angel and the personality of a caveman. His cheekbones are high, his jaw square and always tensed, his hazel eyes intense and full of annoyance.

  Just like always, he grunts his thanks, handing me a ten and waiting while I open the till. “Here you go,” I say, placing his change in his hand and trying not to sigh at the calluses and lines that are etched into his skin.

  Beau is a real man, with a real job. He works hard up in the mountains for the logging company he started after he got back from college years ago. I always think a man’s hands say a lot about him, and Beau’s say he’s not afraid to get them dirty and pitch in, even though he employs a huge crew of guys to work for him.

  My mom used to say that lips could lie, but hands always told the truth. She said Dad’s hands were one of the things she loved most about him, that every line and groove showed how hard he worked to provide for us. Beau could wear a suit, he could sit in a warm office all day down in town, but instead he’s here most days in muddy jeans, flannel shirts, and worn work boots.

  Grunting his thanks, he drops his change into the tip jar, picks up his coffee and pastry, and heads for the same table he always sits at by the window.

  Trying not to stare at him, I busy myself, dragging my exhausted body around the counter to where all the creamer and sugars are laid out in tubs. I tidy the mess, throwing all the empty sachets into the trash, then fill all the tubs back up from the spare stock that’s stored in the cupboard below.

  Stifling another yawn, I glance up at the clock. Only thirty minutes till closing, then I’ll finally be able to go home and fall into bed before I have to get back up at five am tomorrow.

  “That useless waste of space d
idn’t bother to turn up again then?” Fred, one of the regulars, asks as he places his empty mug onto the counter.

  “Nope, he should have been here at three, but he sent me a text saying he was sick,” I tell him quietly. Owen is a pain in my ass, but I don’t like to bitch about him, especially where the customers can hear. The only reason I’m saying anything to Fred is because I’ve known him for years.

  “That boy needs a kick in the nuts. You need to quit, Bonnie, you’re too good for this place, I’ve been telling you that for years.”

  Smiling, I reach out and pat Fred’s arm. “I don’t mind working here, plus it’s not like there’s hundreds of opportunities for a twenty-one-year-old with nothing but a high school diploma,” I tell him.

  “You should have gone away to that fancy college, like you planned,” he scolds me.

  “You know why I didn’t, Fred, Mama got sick and now my daddy needs me.”

  “Your daddy is a cantankerous old coot, he’s more than capable of looking after himself, plus your brother’s there,” Fred says with a scowl.

  “Caleb has his own family to take care of, and Daddy might be cantankerous, but he needs me,” I say, lifting the mug from the counter and turning to take it into the back.

  “You want me to wait till you lock up?” Fred asks.

  “No, I’ll be fine, there’s plenty of streetlights and my car’s right out front,” I say, flashing him a grateful smile as the old man grabs his stick and hobbles toward the door.

  “See you tomorrow, Bonnie,” he calls.

  “Night, Fred,” I call back, smiling to myself as I stack his mug in a fresh tray, ready to go into the dishwasher as soon as the last customer leaves.

  When I make my way back out to the front of the store, another table of customers has left, and it’s just me and Beau.

  I’ve been working here since my senior year of high school, back then it was only part time, after school and on weekends. I was headed for Utah State, all set to leave home and make my way in the world, then all my plans got derailed when my mama had a stroke. In an instant, all my college plans fell to the wayside and I stayed home to care for her, until a massive heart attack took her from us a little over a year ago.

  When Phil, the owner of Wake Up and Go Go, offered me full time hours, I couldn’t see a reason why not to accept the job. So here I am twenty-one, no college degree, living at home with my daddy, and working a job I like for a boss I hate.

  Beau lifts his gaze and spots me staring at him like the lovelorn idiot I am. I’ve had a crush on him since I was about thirteen years old. I remember my mom, taking me over to his family’s home to visit with his mom. Beau’s the oldest of seven kids, all boys, and he was the first guy I ever thought was beautiful. But when I was thirteen and forming one serious crush, he was already in his thirties and I was nothing but an annoying kid. His dad died when he was still in high school, so all the brothers stepped up to help pay the bills and look after their mama. One by one they all went away to college, but they all moved back home and either started their own businesses or went into partnership with one of their brothers.

  It’s always surprised me that they haven’t moved on and out of town since they lost their mama, but they all still live in the house they grew up in, one big happy family.

  Darting my eyes away from him, I busy myself behind the counter, cleaning and organizing ready for the morning. The only good thing about Owen not bothering to show up is I won’t have to spend the first thirty minutes of my shift tomorrow cleaning up all the mess he didn’t bother to tidy up tonight.

  Maybe Fred’s right, maybe it is time for me to find another job. Phil is a great guy, but his son is a douche, and honestly, I can’t keep working fourteen-hour days just because Owen can’t be bothered to show up.

  When the coffee machines are all cleaned and powered down, the grinds refilled ready for the morning, and the new milks labelled and stocked for tomorrow, I cash up the till, placing the money, plus the daily sales report into the safe. I take the trash bags and dump them in the huge dumpster just outside the back door, grab my coat and purse, and head back to the counter.

  Just like every night I work, Beau is waiting at the counter the moment the clock turns eight thirty, I take his plate and cup from him. “Thank you,” I say, rushing them into the back and stacking them in the almost empty tray that’s waiting to be slid into the dishwasher. Closing the door, I turn on the machine, then knock the lights off and close the door to the kitchen behind me. I go to grab my cleaning rag, but Beau is already cleaning the small table he was sitting at, his body bent over as he wipes it vigorously. “Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” I tell him.

  “It’s fine,” he grunts, not even looking in my direction as he ambles back over to the counter and drops the rag into the sink that’s already full of cleaning solution. “I’ll wait while you lock up,” he growls.

  “Oh, there’s no need,” I tell him, unable to look at him, just in case my eyes confess how much I want him, how many of my dirty dreams star him.

  “I’ll wait while you lock up.”

  There’s a finality in his voice that I don’t bother to argue with, he waits every day, no matter how much I protest, so I pull on my jacket, hang my purse over my shoulder, and head for the door, flipping off the lights as I walk outside. He follows me, waiting at my side as I turn the key in the lock and then drop it into my purse. “Thank you,” I murmur awkwardly as I sway on my feet, wanting to talk to him, to tell him I think he’s beautiful, to ask him to kiss me, to take me home and make love to me. But of course, I don’t, I just smile a little uncomfortably and head for my car that’s parked just a few feet away from the door.

  “You working tomorrow?” he asks, shocking me a little.

  “Oh, err, yeah I’ll be here bright and early to open up.”

  “You’re opening up after working all day today again?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

  “Yep,” I say, trying to hide the confusion from my voice. This is the most Beau has ever said to me in one go. He’s here every morning the moment I open the doors, and every night till we close up. I know he works long hours up on the mountain, so why would he be shocked that I’d be working a full day, then be back again tomorrow?

  “You’ve worked more than one fourteen-hour day this week, you should be off tomorrow,” he says lowly.

  I laugh. “It’s fine, plus the extra money is always good. Marnie is in tomorrow, so I’ll be finished by three,” I say with a shrug, stepping up to my car and sliding the key into the lock. My old Toyota corolla does in theory have central locking, but it stopped working a few months ago and I haven’t had a chance to take it down to the garage to have them fix it yet.

  “You should take that into Bay, he can fix it for you,” Beau says, nodding to my car.

  “I will as soon as I get a chance,” I tell him, opening the door and sliding inside. “Good night,” I call.

  “Good night,” he says with a gruff nod, waiting as I turn my engine on before turning and heading for his truck.

  Rockhead Point is a small town at the bottom of the little base mountain range. It’s a beautiful part of the world, popular with tourists who take a trip to climb the local peaks and trails. My family’s property is about twenty minutes out of town, up the twisting roads that traverse the base of the mountain. I can practically hear my bed calling me the moment the sign for the Williams ranch comes into view. My daddy’s family have owned this land for a hundred years, but my dad was the first to farm it, and now the Williams ranch is known for the best cattle in the entire state of Montana. When my dad’s health meant he couldn’t work out in the fields anymore, my brother Caleb took over the physical day to day running of the herds, while Dad interferes where he can and runs the offices.

  Caleb lives on the other side of our property in a house he and my dad built together when Caleb got married to Maggie, my wonderful sister-in-law. Mom and Dad had Caleb when Mom was just eighteen and I didn
’t come till twenty-two years later, so my two nephews Noah and Olly are closer to me in age at fifteen and sixteen than my brother is at almost forty-three.

  I love my brother, but we’re not close. He was already moved out of the house and married by the time I was born; and to him, I’m an annoyance that for some reason he feels responsibility for. Since our mom died, he’s tried to parent me, even though I’m more than old enough to look after myself, which has left us with a lingering resentment that hangs between any relationship we could have.

  At the moment, we’re speaking only because we don’t want Dad to know there’s any animosity between us, but in the rare moments it’s just Celeb and I, we fall back into a stunted silence that I have no idea how to break.

  Just like I knew they would be, the lights in the house are bright and calling me home. This house and land is my sanctuary. As a kid I grew up helping around the ranch, grooming the horses and mucking in to help if we were short-handed, just like my mom did. Since she passed, I’ve tried to step into her shoes where I can, baking cakes and treats for the ranch hands that live in the bunkhouse, offering an interested ear to anyone who has any issues, and generally trying to do as much of the things she did for this place as I can.

  Parking my car, I turn off the engine and climb out, waving to Derek, one of the ranch hands, as he leads his horse into the barn, before I turn and climb the steps to the house. The smell of the chili I put in the crock pot this morning before I left for work fills the house, and my stomach groans appreciatively as I kick off my shoes and hang my jacket and purse on the hooks by the door.