Page 2 of Her Mountain Man Grump

I see a shape moving around in the trees behind me, and my breath catches when I see a man emerge. He’s a giant, tall and brawny, towering over me as he steps forward. His muscular arms are covered in dark ink, bulging from his flannel shirt, and I feel my knees start to tremble. I don’t recognize him; he’s not from Scourfield. But that doesn’t mean he’s safe.

I should run. Head back to the road. But the stranger’s bright blue eyes pin me to the spot, his brow furrowing as he looks at me. I can’t move. All I can do is stare back at him and pray I haven’t just traded one danger for another.

2

BRODY

“A little to the left,”I say.

Tanner nods, angling the hinge slightly and holding it steady as I drive the final nail through the door frame. Once it’s secure, I push the door closed, then open it again with a satisfying creak.

“Looks good.” I rub my hands on my jeans. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem.”

We’re working in the outbuilding behind my cabin, a tiny space that I’ve been renovating night and day for the past two months. The outbuilding was falling apart when I bought it—just a shack in the woods—but I decided to fix it up and rent it out for some extra cash. Now the place is almost ready to go, and it’s all thanks to Tanner’s help.

“You need me for anything else today?” he asks, reaching for his toolkit. “I have to go run a few errands in Cherry Hollow.”

“No, I’m good. Thanks, buddy.” I reach out to slap him on the back. “You ever need anything, just say the word.”

Tanner gives a non-committal grunt—like me, he’s not much of a talker. We met when I first moved to Cherry Mountain a couple of months ago. As soon as I mentioned the outbuilding, he offered to help me fix it up for free, trekking three miles down the mountain most days to give me a hand. That’s whatmountain men do out here. We help each other, no questions asked. It’s something I’m still adjusting to after years of living in the city.

“I’ll see you on Friday to finish the kitchen,” Tanner says, grabbing his coffee flask off the counter.

“Appreciate it. See you then.”

He raises a hand in parting and ducks out the front door to avoid banging his head. Poor guy can barely stand up in this tiny place. I’m well over six feet, but Tanner is pushing seven. Must be something in the water up here.

Once he’s disappeared into the trees outside, I leave the outbuilding and head to my cabin for some lunch. I whip up a steak sandwich and wrap it up before heading out toward Sugar Creek, following the sound of rushing water. I like eating by the river. It’s peaceful, especially in summer when the sun is bright and the forest is lush and green. There’s nobody around, nothing but me and the woods—just how I like it.

Reminds me why I moved out here in the first place.

It wasn’t an easy decision. Moving to the mountains meant leaving the apartment I shared with my sister back in Denver. I’d spent half my life protecting Celeste, raising her like she was my own daughter, so it took a long time for her to convince me she’d be okay living by herself. Then, only a month after I left, my sister came to visit me here on Cherry Mountain and met a man called Dane. The rest is history. They fell in love, and now she lives in his cabin just a short distance away from mine. I didn’t approve of their relationship at first; it wasn’t easy to let go and accept that Celeste didn’t need me anymore. But she’s happy. That’s all that matters. Now, at forty, I’m finally starting to figure out how to build my own life—a life that doesn’t revolve around taking care of my little sister.

I reach the river a few minutes later, sitting back against the trunk of a towering pine tree and breathing in the earthyscent of the woods. Sugar Creek glitters in the sunlight, rippling gently in the breeze. I start to unwrap my sandwich, my thoughts drifting back to the outbuilding and all the work I plan to do this afternoon. But before I can take a bite, the snap of branches nearby makes my ears prick up. Someone is approaching the river, moving through the trees to my left.

Goddammit.

Years of living in the city sure as hell didn’t make me a people person. I consider moving farther up the riverbank, away from whoever is intruding on my peace, but something keeps me rooted in place—an instinct I can’t explain. Slowly, I peer around the trees that shroud my spot, watching as a woman comes into view. The first thing I notice is her thick red curls, tumbling to her waist as she crouches down by the river. I can’t see her face, but my pulse stutters at the sight of her curves, wrapped up in a green summer dress. But the fabric is patched and shabby, and as the girl cups river water in her hands, she starts to drink it desperately, like she’s dying of thirst.

Fuck.

Something isn’t right here.

Between sips, the girl lifts her head and looks around, like she’s waiting for a predator to pounce. My gaze lands on her shoes—a pair of tattered sandals. She’s clearly not a hiker. So what the hell is she doing out here?

I watch fixedly as the girl stops drinking and heaves a deep sigh, tilting her head up to the sunlight. I step forward to get a better look, cringing as a twig cracks beneath my foot. The sound is like a gunshot in the silent forest. Instantly, the girl whips around to face me and something jolts in my chest as our eyes meet.

Holy shit.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. My breath catches as I take in her freckled, heart-shaped face, her plumpred lips, the soft curve of her jaw. I want to stare at her, drink her in, but I can see the fear in her wide brown eyes. She’s frozen, her body tensed like a hunted animal. I recognize that look. It’s the same expression my sister wore every time our parents came home from work: an instinctive defensiveness. The animal urge to flee.

“Hey,” I say, raising my hands in a kind of surrender. “Sorry for scaring you.”

The girl doesn’t speak. She’s so young, barely into her twenties, and my concern deepens as she eyes me warily, her body primed to run.

“Are you okay?” I ask her. “You been sleeping rough out here?”

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