Prologue<\/b><\/span><\/span> ALONE AND LOOKING TO BONE! <\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n LOUDMOUTHED MOUNTAIN MAN FEMALE TO STEAM UP HIS LOG Calder, 35 years \ud83c\udf93 Fletcher \ud83d\udcbc Full-time \ud83d\udccd 14 miles Height: 6’3″ Eyes: Blue and Full Body: Toned and Personality: My mom \ud83c\udf46 Size: Not What Self-summary: <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n I might be tall, I\u2019m not a \u201cgo with I once had a girl The other day, a If you like the Chapter 1<\/b><\/span><\/span> CAT DADDY <\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n Calder <\/span><\/i><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n My eyes scan over Feelings? Fuck \u201cCan Tinder I quickly check my I reread the Without putting a Come at me. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Fuzz gets to enjoy Milkshake secure, I But I\u2019ll be damned if it didn\u2019t work.<\/span><\/i> <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n The fucker is Gives me the ick. <\/span><\/i><\/span><\/p>\n My brother went It\u2019s enough to make Not that I dislike But my two brothers Now we have a Wyatt is a sellout. My eyes shift to Feeling Milkshake \u201cWhat do you know?\u201d Trista smiles as I dig my calloused Trista\u2019s smile \u201cMy dating profiles \u201cWhat does it say?\u201d I pull my phone out \u201cThat\u2019s what I \u201cAlthough you know \u201cStevie\u2019s too damn \u201cNot this niece, She pats her My brows furrow. \u201cThey have the My mind races with I shake my head and \u201cMaybe she wants \u201cTrust me, whoever Trista rolls her \u201cMy daughter Trista groans and My eyes narrow on I turn and gaze at Unfortunately, the Excerpted from SEVEN YEAR ITCH by Amy
<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nSEEKS FIERY <\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
\nCABIN <\/span><\/b><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nold \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nMountain University \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ncat daddy with a side-hustle in screwing and nailing \u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\naway <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nat the doctor, 6’5″ at the bar <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nof Feelings <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\noverly inked to conceal my real personality <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nsays I\u2019m great \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nas big as my brother Luke\u2019s but honorable mention <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nI do on a typical day: Mountainside strolls with my cat strapped to my chest. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ntattooed, bearded, and all the classic things one might look for in a rugged
\nmountain man . . . but like an onion plucked from the soil, you must peel back
\nthe dirty layers to see the moist inner belly that shows my true essence. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe flow\u201d kind of guy. I catch feelings with direct eye contact. If you don\u2019t
\ntext me back within an hour, I\u2019ll probably cry a little before showing up to
\nyour house to see if you\u2019re cheating on me. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhold the door open for me, and afterward I asked her, \u201cWhat are we?\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nbartender poured me the wrong beer and let me drink it for free . . . it was a
\nweird way for him to propose, but I said yes. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ntaste of my potent onion, swipe right and let\u2019s giggle and make some soup
\ntogether. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the actual fuck,\u201d I state out loud, and my cat, Milkshake, lets out a
\nhigh-pitched meow from where she sits on my naked chest. I sit up, clutching
\nher black-and-white fur to me for comfort as I use my free hand to scroll
\nthrough my Tinder account. \u201cHave I been hacked?\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe contents of my dating profile, knowing damn well I didn\u2019t write a single
\nword of this. Catch feelings with direct
\neye contact?<\/i> I don\u2019t catch feelings. I catch boners with a light breeze. I
\ncatch ladies\u2019 attention with my tattoos and muscles. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nfeelings! <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nprofiles get hacked?\u201d I ask Milkshake who tips her head up to me and drags her
\nsandpaper tongue over my beard. \u201cWho gives a fuck about someone\u2019s dating life
\nenough to mess with their profiles? There has to be way cooler things to hack.\u201d
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nother hookup apps that I keep armed and ready at all times and see the same
\nlong-term relationship bullshit spewing out of every one of them. Make some soup together?<\/i> My God. This is
\nthe complete opposite of what I look for in these apps. I\u2019m very clear about
\nthat. Who the hell did this? <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\npenis-size line, and my eyes narrow. \u201cFucking
\nLuke,\u201d<\/i> I growl and stand up from the sofa to stomp across the knotty pine
\nflooring of my small cabin. I glance out the window that faces uphill to see if
\nhis truck is here as I drop a soft kiss to my cat\u2019s ear. \u201cSomeone\u2019s gonna die
\ntoday,\u201d I coo in a saccharine voice to my girl. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nshirt on, I throw the baby carrier on my chest and stuff Milkshake inside. That
\nwas the only part of the hacked profile that was true, but dammit, little fuzz
\nloves being outside. And there\u2019s way too much wildlife around here to let her
\nrun free. So when my future sister-in-law, Trista, gave me a cat carrier to
\nhelp Milkshake enjoy the great outdoors safely, that meant I turned into a big,
\ntatted mountain man who wears a cat more often than not. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe fresh air and mountain scenery, and I get to sleep at night, not worrying
\nshe\u2019s going to get eaten by the coyotes that roam the dense forest surrounding
\nus. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nstorm out in the bristly early March temperatures, the cool air doing its best
\nto cool down my fiery temper as I make my way to Luke\u2019s to tear him a new
\nasshole, but an errant thought stops me in my tracks. I pivot to look downhill
\nat the cabin on the other side of my place. Maybe the Luke dick-size comparison
\non my profile was a diversion to get me off my older brother Wyatt\u2019s trail. I
\ncertainly have payback coming from Wyatt after posting a Help Wanted ad for him
\nlast year at the local bar when he was looking for a baby mama. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nprobably tucked inside his architecturally obnoxious cabin cuddling his fianc\u00e9e
\nand their nearly three-month-old daughter, Stevie, in front of his stone
\nfireplace, watching the snow melt outside the window. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nfrom never wanting a wife so much that he was looking for a surrogate to have a
\nbaby for him to now preparing to fly us all to Mexico so we can watch him marry
\nhis incubator-turned-fianc\u00e9e in a couple of weeks. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\na guy puke. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nTrista. She\u2019s cool, and I\u2019m low-key obsessed with my niece that she gave birth
\nto a few months ago. The two of them are fine additions to Fletcher Mountain
\nalong with the pick-and-mix assortment of farm animals that keep showing up in the
\nred barn located down the drive. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nand I made a pact nearly a decade ago: us three and this mountain. No one else.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nsoon-to-be wife for Wyatt, a baby niece who has us all wrapped around her
\nfinger, eighteen random animals including a horse with a tongue deformity, and
\nprobably a fucking partridge in a pear tree somewhere in that barn. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmovement in the distance, and I see Trista emerge from the Dutch doors of the
\nbarn. She has a baby carrier strapped to her chest, and I decide to let Wyatt
\nlive for a few more minutes while I investigate. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\npurr against my chest, I beeline straight to the barn, my boots crunching over
\nmelted snow as I intercept Trista walking back up toward her and Wyatt\u2019s cabin.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nI bark, my eyes narrowing on my brother\u2019s woman. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nshe glances down at my pussy. \u201cI knew Milkshake would love that cat carrier,
\nfor one.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nfingers into Milkshake\u2019s cheek, and her purr quickens as she nuzzles into my
\nchest. \u201cThis isn\u2019t about my cat, and you know it.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ndrops, and she hits me with a scolding look. \u201cCalder, it\u2019s barely nine in the
\nmorning. I had this feral little animal on my tits four times last night.
\nYou\u2019re going to have to spell it out for me.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhave all been fucked with, and I want to know who did it. My guess is your
\nsoon-to-be husband.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nshe asks, her eyes narrowing curiously. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nof my pocket to show her the proof, and her face lights up as laughter bubbles
\nout of her. \u201cThis definitely looks like payback from Wyatt.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthought,\u201d I grind out as I turn toward my brother\u2019s house. He must pay for his
\ncrime. \u201cSorry, Stevie. Your dad is going to be out of commission for a while.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwho else it could have been . . .\u201d Trista\u2019s voice stops me in my tracks, and I
\nturn on my heel with a frown as she adds, \u201cYour niece.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nyoung to be on Tinder,\u201d I exclaim, my eyes dropping down to the mound of
\nchestnut curls sticking out from her little stocking cap. Her hair is wild and
\nunruly just like Trista\u2019s. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nyou moron,\u201d Trista bites back a bit too comfortably. She\u2019s definitely not the
\ntype of sister-in-law you can fuck with. She puts me and my brother Luke in our
\nplace whenever the mood strikes her. I kind of love that about her. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ndaughter\u2019s back and adds, \u201cI\u2019m talking about Everly.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\n\u201cEverly is at college in Ireland.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ninternet there, Calder.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthis new possibility I hadn\u2019t considered. How did my nineteen-year-old niece
\nhack my dating profiles? In fairness, my password might be easy to guess. Milkshake1234<\/i> isn\u2019t exactly a
\nhigh-security option. And Everly was the one with the idea to do the baby mama
\nHelp Wanted ad for Wyatt last year when he was looking for a surrogate. I just
\nhelped her jazz it up a bit. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nrefocus. \u201cBut why would she sabotage my dating profiles?\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nyou to find a nice <\/i>girl to bring to
\nthe wedding, not some rando from Tinder? I mean . . . we all have to hang with
\nwhoever you and Luke bring to this villa we\u2019re staying at in Mexico. Not to
\nmention Stevie will be there, your mother, and your eight-year-old nephew,
\nEthan. A random Tinder hookup doesn\u2019t sound super family-friendly.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nI find won\u2019t be there for the family vibes.\u201d I waggle my brows suggestively. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\neyes and rubs Stevie\u2019s bottom. \u201cCan you not speak that way in front of my
\ndaughter, please?\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\ndoesn\u2019t mind one bit.\u201d I match Trista\u2019s protective stance with my own fur baby.
\nI move closer to lean in and whisper into my sleeping niece\u2019s ear. \u201cIt\u2019s best
\nyou learn young, lil Stevemeister, that your uncle Calder is a stallion.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmakes her way up toward their house. \u201cCalder, I don\u2019t know who messed with your
\nprofiles, but if you have to go to Tinder to find someone to bring to our
\nwedding, maybe you don\u2019t really need to bring anyone at all.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmy retreating future sister-in-law. She might have a point about Tinder not
\nbeing the right place for me to find a date for a destination wedding. But
\nshe\u2019s wrong about me not bringing a date. Luke already has his plus-one lined
\nup, and our oldest brother Max down in Boulder has been wifed up for years.
\nWyatt will be busy being a groom. If I don\u2019t bring a plus-one, that means I\u2019ll
\nbe my mother\u2019s date, and as much as I love my dear mother . . . I can\u2019t stomach
\nthe idea of dancing with her or my niece all night long. I need to find someone
\nto bring with me on this damn trip. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe tiny mountain town that rests at the bottom of our long and winding gravel
\nlane. Perhaps Tinder is casting too wide a net. Maybe it\u2019s time to look a bit
\ncloser to home. Jamestown ain\u2019t much to look at. It\u2019s a little hamlet of Boulder\u2014an
\nisolated and somewhat dilapidated sanctuary for weirdos who want to stay weird.
\nIt\u2019s full of loners. Trailblazers. People who don\u2019t want to be found and don\u2019t
\nmind a bit of inconvenience\u2014be that limited grocery supplies, weather that
\nsnows us in for a week, or cell service that goes in and out. Jamestown is our
\nsanctuary. And it\u2019s the place Wyatt, Luke, and I have called home for over a
\ndecade now. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\npopulation doesn\u2019t even hit three hundred souls, so the pickings are slim. My
\nbrothers and I learned that quickly when we first moved out here. Things ended
\nreal messy back then, and the three of us made a pact to not test the waters in
\nJamestown ever again . . . but surely enough time has passed now. I mean hell,
\nWyatt\u2019s on his way to getting married anyways. Maybe it\u2019s time to shop local
\nagain.
<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nDaws. Copyright \u00a9 2025 by Amy Daws. Published by Canary Street Press, an
\nimprint of HarperCollins.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n
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