Page 15 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

"Who says I need all that?" I snap back. "Besides, you live here."

"I'm different."

"How?"

"I grew up on a farm. I know how the land works. And all I need for my hair is a buzz cut with clippers, so I do it myself." He shrugs, almost dismissing me. "Look, I'm not here to argue. I get that you're trying something new, but this is what I was talking about." His eyes dart to the trees where the bear had been, then back to me. "You can't just run around out here without thinking." He stands a little taller, as if to make himself more imposing, but I see the tightness in his jaw. "Look, the offer stillstands. Sell the land and move on. There's no shame in it, and you won't last long out here on your own. When you're ready to sell, let me know. I'd appreciate a response before you put it on the market."

With that, he turns and starts walking away, but then calls over his shoulder. "And even with bear spray, don't plan on going skinny-dipping anytime soon. My hands are out on the mountain all the time, working. Word gets around, and you might not see them, but trust me, they'll definitely see you."

For some reason, this last comment annoys me even more. I watch his back as he retreats, seething.

I mean, I'm sure part of him means well. Perhaps he is genuinely concerned for me. He doesn't have to be so condescending about it.

It seems like, apart from Reed, the other two men are total jerks. Reed might be too, but he hasn't shown it yet—after all, I hardly know him.

It's probably a good idea to stay away from all of them. A damn shame, but probably for the best. I don't need to get tangled up in a messy situation with my new neighbors.

As I stand by the edge of the lake, I think about the grumpy man's point. I don't know much about this land. I came here on a whim, without any real plan.

But what he doesn't know is that I'm determined to make it work.

Waking up to this morning’s sunrise with its shafts of light streaming through the bedroom window, caressing my face and gently stirring me from my slumbers has been one of the better moments of the past few weeks. Walking through the forest this morning had given me peace of mind that I hadn't felt in a while. Even wandering aimlessly felt more liberating than being stuck in the city. Besides, this is my inheritance—my one and only tieto my past and to the parents who had loved me unconditionally. How could I possibly sell it?

The flame-filled sky at dawn, the tall trees looming darkly against the light, their reflections shimmering in the calm, still lake, broken only by a V-shaped ripple of a waterbird of some kind as it paddles through the water. The fresh scent of pine and juniper fills the air, and the low-pitched hoot of a heron echoes in the distance. Standing here, I realize this is home now. This is where I'm meant to be.

I know I can make something of this place—start a little family farm or homestead, grow my own food, buy some solar panels to generate my own electricity, and over time, become self-sufficient.

If I sell Aunt May and Uncle Roger's house, I'll have enough for an initial investment. I can use that to buy whatever tools and equipment I need, and still have some left over to fall back on while I figure it out. I need to meet the right people—people who know what they're doing—farmers, suppliers—and do some research on small scale farming techniques.

It sounds easier than no doubt it actually is, but years of roughing it in third-world countries have prepared me for tough work, and I'm ready for it.

I add this research to my to-do list for the day. I called AAA last night to coordinate getting my rental car towed, and the new vehicle should be delivered this afternoon.

I need to run errands, meet with realtors, call the lawyer, buy groceries, and finally eat. I haven't had a proper meal since breakfast yesterday, and I'm starting to get lightheaded.

I take a quick shower, and luckily the replacement rental car arrives just as I finish getting dressed. It's delivered by a cheerful man who drives back with the colleague who'd followed him in a second car.

I head into town for my errands, and I run into a few vaguely familiar faces. I even spot the vintage store where my mom used to buy jewelry. There's a Victorian-era dress in the window—something she would have adored.

I stand outside, staring at it, feeling a rush of nostalgia.

I only notice the tiny hand tugging at my skirt when it happens again.

I glance down to find a little girl in a fuchsia pink pinafore dress, her big blue eyes staring up at me.

CHAPTER 6

Lennon

"Um, excuse me, sir…"

The young female store assistant's voice tremors with concern, immediately triggering alarm bells in my head. Something is wrong, and judging by the pale, concerned look on her face, it might be serious. That said, I know from experience that my size combined with the frown that I am told I wear most of the time tends to make people concerned anyway, without the need for any extraneous reason.

I've been sitting here staring at my phone and trying not to loom for the past ten minutes whilst my little girl tries on dresses, helped by the store assistant who presumably knows more than I do about the topic. Heck, I don't even know whether Grace's got the damned thing on back-to-front or inside-out half the time, poor girl. That's why I'm leaving it to the store assistant to help her choose her latest frock, whilst I take a moment to puzzle over the text I've received from Reed.

Honestly though, I can't make a lick of sense out of what Reed's sent me. He's supposed to be taking stock of our cattle today and then relaying the numbers for me to cross-check.But so far, he just sent me a bunch of screenshots of his terrible handwriting scribbled on a piece of paper. Worse, he's not responding to my texts asking him what the fuck those are supposed to represent.

So, by the time the store attendant walks up to me, I'm probably sporting a full-blown scowl, let alone a frown, and looking even more scary than I usually do. I deliberately try to relax my features so as not to terrify the woman before I look up at her, doing my best not to appear intimidating. "Yeah?" I reply, trying not to make it sound like I'm about to haul off and punch someone any moment and generally doing my best to act normal—whatever the heck that might be.

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