Page 14 of How to Love a Mountain Man

“I don’t care about your stupid flood. The maple tree spot is perfect and you’re just being stubborn because you never want to do anything I want to do!”

The sound of my children’s bickering draws me from the kitchen to find them squared off between the trees. Josie stands with her arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place, while Finn’s eyes hold that determined glint that reminds me so much of his father. The great treehouse debate rages on, day three.

Julian leans against the deck railing beside me, hiding his smile behind his coffee mug. “How long do you think they can keep this up?”

“Given that they’re our kids?” I accept the second mug he offers me. “We could be here all summer.”

A warm breeze rustles through the maple leaves overhead, carrying the sweet scent of the mountain. The morning sun turns the new growth a vibrant green, almost too bright to look at. Near the old boundary boulder—now decorated with the kids’ chalk masterpieces—tiny purple wildflowers push through the grass.

Josie throws her hands up in exasperation. “This is ridiculous. There’s so much space here. Why can’t we each just have our own treehouse?”

Julian and I exchange a look. We’ve had variations of this conversation before, about everything from playrooms to reading nooks to craft tables.

“Because,” Julian says, setting his coffee down, “sharing space teaches you important things. Like compromise. And consideration. And?—”

“How not to murder your brother?” Josie mutters.

Julian steps off the deck. “Hey Finn, what do you say we do some more exploring? Maybe we missed something on our last walk-through.”

Finn perks up. “Can we bring the blueprint I drew?”

“Absolutely.” Julian grins. “Meet you ladies back here in twenty?”

I nod, and they head off toward the creek, Finn already listing the exact specifications he envisions for the future treehouse. When they disappear into the trees, Josie slumps onto the deck steps beside me.

“He’s impossible.” She picks at a loose thread on her shorts. “You’re so lucky you never had to deal with annoying brothers.”

“No, but I did have to deal with an annoying neighbor once.”

She looks up at me. “Who?”

“Your dad.”

Her eyes go wide. “But you and Dad are perfect together.”

“Of course I love him now. Very, very much. But back then, I wanted nothing to do with him. Or his loud construction crew. Or the way he built his house closer to my side of the property than I wanted.”

“But you love this house.” Josie’s brow furrows. “And you love Dad. You’re saying you didn’t evenlikehim at first?”

“We started as neighbors who could barely speak to each other. Then we got stuck together during a snowstorm. I hurt my foot, and he took care of me. Made me dinner. Let me stay warm by his fire.” I smile at the memory. “Turned out he wasn’t as annoying as I thought.”

Josie considers this, her expression serious. “And you’re saying that one day Finn won’t be so annoying either?”

“I’m saying that sometimes the people who drive us the most crazy end up being the ones we care about most.”

Josie wrinkles her nose. “You want me to marry Finn?”

“What? No!” I burst out laughing. “He’s your brother.”

“Good.” She shudders dramatically. “Because that would be super gross.”

“I just meant that siblings often become good friends as they get older.”

“I guess.” Josie leans against my shoulder. “But Finn better stop being so stubborn about this treehouse.”

“Want to know a secret?” I wrap my arm around her. “Your dad was just as determined about where to build his house. But in the end, I’m glad he built it exactly where he did.”

“Because you fell in love with him?”

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