Page 1 of Charming Mountain Man

Chapter One

Callie

Pine Hollow is the breath of fresh mountain air I’ve been craving. I pull my little teal Subaru into the heart of Main Street, instantly enchanted by the town’s charm. Quaint shops with colorful awnings line the road, fairy lights twinkle along the lampposts, and the air smells of pine, freshly baked bread, and woodsmoke. It feels like I’ve stumbled onto the set of one of those cozy Hallmark movies my mom used to love so much.

Excitement bubbles in my chest, mixing pleasantly with a tiny flutter of nerves. This solo camping trip marks my fresh start after a too-long relationship that finally fizzled out. The idea of spending a week alone, hiking and sleeping under the stars, fills me with a sense of adventure I haven’t felt in far too long.

My stomach growls in agreement, reminding me I need supplies before I hit the trail. Following the friendly advice from the check-in clerk at the Hollow Hearth Inn, I head toward Pierce’s Outdoor Supplies, the shop everyone in town swears by.

The door jingles as I step inside, and the scent of cedar and leather welcomes me. My eyes immediately wander around the cozy store. Racks of flannel shirts and rugged hiking gear mingle with gleaming climbing ropes and neatly stacked sleeping bags. It’s the place that feels both practical and warm, unlike the flashy outdoor shops back home in Seattle.

“Help you?” A voice growls behind the counter, and my gaze snaps toward it.

Oh. My. God.

Leaning over a battered wooden counter is possibly the most ruggedly handsome man I’ve ever seen. Dark hair, just messy enough to look effortlessly good, shadows a face carved from granite. Stubble darkens his jaw, and beneath furrowed brows, eyes the color of storm clouds peer skeptically at me.

“Um, hi!” I flash my brightest, friendliest smile, determined to thaw his chilly expression. “I’m Callie. I’m here to pick up some camping supplies.”

His gaze flicks over me, clearly unimpressed. “Camping, huh?”

“Yup!” My voice comes out brighter than necessary, but I can’t help it—his grumpy demeanor is oddly intriguing. “Solo camping. It’s my first time. I will need help with a few supplies I’m unsure about.”

“Solo,” he echoes, disbelief evident. His lips thin into a line. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Oh, definitely,” I assure him, breezing closer. I lean my forearms on the counter, meeting his steady gaze. “I’m tougher than I look.”

His eyebrows shoot up, skepticism deepening. “You’re wearing pink sneakers.”

I glance down, wiggling my toes in my admittedly not-rugged footwear. “They’re coral, but you have a point. That’s exactly why I need your expert guidance.”

He sighs, long and exasperated, before pushing back from the counter and standing to his full height. My pulse trips as I realize he’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built like he’s spent every day wrestling bears in the mountains.

Garrett Pierce—I remember the name from the storefront sign—leads me around the store, selecting gear with a practicedefficiency. Each item he hands me is delivered with gruff instructions and barely contains irritation, which fuels my determination to get him to smile.

“These boots,” he says firmly, setting a sturdy pair before me. “They’re waterproof, durable, and you won’t twist an ankle.” His eyes scan my face, an unreadable flicker behind them. “Probably.”

I pick up the boots, turning them over appreciatively. “Sounds perfect. Do you recommend wool socks, too?”

“Absolutely.” He moves to a display, grabs a pack, and tosses it into my growing pile. “Feet dry, spirits high.”

“That’s catchy,” I tease gently.

He scowls at me again, though I swear there’s a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Anything else, Miss Cheerful?”

I consider his question seriously, pressing my lips together. “How about some bear spray?”

“Bear spray?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Planning on getting up close and personal with a bear?”

“Hopefully not.” I grin, bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

He huffs out a breath but moves to another shelf. Watching him from behind, I can’t help noticing how his shoulders shift beneath his flannel shirt, the worn fabric hugging his muscular back in all the right ways.

Stop staring, Callie.

He turns abruptly, catching my gaze. Heat flushes my cheeks, but I maintain my brightest, most innocent smile.

“Here.” He hands me the bear spray, our fingers brushing briefly. My skin tingles at the accidental contact, and his eyes narrow slightly as if he felt it too.

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