Page 1 of Mountain Man's Redemption

1

DAPHNE

I grabmy gloves from my pocket and pull them on as I hurry across the street, ducking my head as snowflakes tumble down from the sky. When I left Iowa last week, spring was already in the air. But out here in the Rockies, winter isn’t done with us yet, and I almost slip on a patch of ice as I step back onto the sidewalk, grabbing onto a streetlight to keep myself upright.

Maybe I should have chosen Florida for my fresh start.

I could be basking in 80-degree heat right now.

But despite the cold, Cherry Hollow looks beautiful in the snow, with its quaint stores and rustic buildings. Mountains shroud the town, the rugged peaks rising up like protective walls. It feels safe. Quiet. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.

I never planned to move to Colorado. Heck, if someone had told me a month ago that I’d be living in a mountain town in the Rockies, I’d have said they were nuts. Until last week, I’d only ever lived in Plainville, Iowa—a small town south of Des Moines. My family has lived there for generations, and my dad has been the mayor since I was a little girl, re-elected five times over. It was home…until the scandal became public. Now my parents are facing criminal charges, and our reputation in Plainville hasbeen ruined forever. I can’t go back. I can’t bear to hear the whispers, the comments from people who think I knew what was happening.

But I didn’t know.

If only they’d believe that.

I left Plainville with some clothes, my art supplies, and very little else. I had no plan, but I knew I needed something different, something new—so I headed for the mountains. I only meant to stop in Cherry Hollow for a coffee, but something about this place spoke to me. It felt like this was exactly where I needed to be. So I stayed. I found a little apartment, moved in a few days later, and now I’m trying to find my feet in this new world. It’s not home yet. I’m not sure if it ever will be. But it’s a start.

Shivering, I finally reach Buttercup Bakery and hurry into the warmth. It smells like heaven in here, and I eye the golden pastries and treats on the counter as I join the back of the line. This town is famous for its cherry pie, and I figure it’s time I find out what all the fuss is about. Tasting a slice seems like the first step to becoming a real Cherry Hollow girl.

As I wait in line, the door to the bakery opens, and there’s a burst of icy air as an old woman hurries inside, wrapped up in a thick coat. She takes her place behind me, and I feel her eyes drilling into my face through her purple-rimmed glasses. When I finally meet her gaze, she doesn’t look away.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Her voice is uncomfortably loud, and I draw back a little.

“Uh…no, I just moved here.”

The woman nods and reaches out to shake my hand. “Rita Danvers. I can always tell a new face. What brings you to Cherry Hollow?”

It sounds more like a demand than a question. Those bespectacled eyes are narrowed with curiosity, but despite myannoyance, I force a smile. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the locals.

“Change of scenery,” I tell her. “This town seemed like the perfect place for a fresh start.”

“A fresh start, huh?”

I blink at her. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” Rita is quiet for a few moments, and I awkwardly turn back to face the counter, wishing the line would move faster.

“In my experience,” she continues suddenly, “people looking for a fresh start are usually running from something. Divorce, drama, scandal…”

My heart thuds. I open my mouth to reply, but the words die in my throat.

“Where are you from?” Rita presses.

None of your business, lady.

I want to tell her to leave me alone, but I’ve never been good with confrontation. Heck, that’s why I left Iowa in the first place. Every time I tried to defend myself from rumors and gossip, I lost my nerve. By the end, I could barely leave the house.

“I’m from Ohio,” I say eventually.

The lie probably isn’t necessary. The chances of this woman finding out about my family’s scandal are pretty slim, as the story didn’t travel far beyond Iowa. But I still don’t want her knowing a thing about me. Plainville was full of people like Rita—small-town gossips whose lives revolved around their neighbors’ business. People like her are the reason I was forced to leave.

“Where in Ohio?”

I pull a city out of thin air. “Cleveland.”

“Hmm. Lots of crime in Cleveland.”

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