5 Mountain Men of Lonely Peak

Chapter 1

" I hate to leave you like this…" My father hesitates one last time as he wraps his scarf around his neck.

I do my best to stay strong and show him a cheerful smile. Yes, he's abandoning me, leaving me all but stranded here on Lonely Peak. But it's not as if he has a choice.

Neither of us does.

"I'll be fine," I reassure him. I reach up and fix the collar of his thick wool coat.

"If the power goes out…"

"I know how to start the generator."

"And the extra wood for the fire—"

"Is in the basement. I know. Now go, before you miss your flight."

He brushes the backs of his knuckles across my cheek and tucks a bit of my chestnut hair behind my ear. "I'm allowed to worry about my little girl. All alone up here on the mountain…"

"We agreed it was for the best."

Someone has to stay here, after all. My father has his law firm to get back to, and while neither of us is in dire straights, he can't afford to be let go.

Me, on the other hand—I took a leave of absence from my classroom the instant my grandmother took a turn.

My sabbatical extends through the end of the semester, provided my small town school can keep a long-term substitute engaged.

Provided my ex doesn't decide to screw me over.

And that's if I even want to go back at all.

Working with my ex lording power over me is bad enough.

It doesn't help that I've been feeling particularly ineffective as a teacher just of late.

Art programs like mine keep getting slashed.

My dreams of becoming an artist in my own right keep getting met with rejection, and my muse for painting has up and left.

I've been uninspired in just about every area of my life, basically.

Lord knows I don't want to stay up here, seeing to my grandmother's estate. But going home isn't exactly appealing, either.

So I'll stay.

Presuming I can get my father out the door.

Dropping his hand from my face, he frowns again. "If you get into a jam…"

"I'll call."

"But if you can't get through. You know reception can be spotty up here."

"Dad…"

"Just—if things get really bad, remember the Tucker place is right down the road."

How could I forget? My cheeks heat as the image of Cayden Tucker's face floats across my vision. First the beautiful, blue-eyed boy I'd known back in middle school. Then the big, hardened man he became after his stint in the army.

And finally, the version of him I was reintroduced to at my grandmother's funeral last week.

Grandma had told me he and his army pals had come back to Lonely Mountain to take over the old Tucker lumber mill, but I hadn't realized that he had embraced that new life so fully.

He'd arrived in a dark suit so fitted he'd nearly busted the seams, his hair long and his beard scruffy, tattoos peeking out from under his collar and sleeves. Truly a mountain man.

A hermit, if the stories Grandma told me are right. He and his friends rarely leave the mountain. Never associate with anybody unless it's necessary.

Though he did still associate with my grandmother.

Her hazy eyes had gone warm and soft as she talked about the visits he would pay to check up on her from time to time, resupplying her with extra food they'd "accidentally" bought too much of, or pretending he saw something funny over by the generator, giving him an excuse to refuel it or give the old broken-down machine a quick once-over.

That was Cayden all right. He might be gruff and reserved now, but he'd always been kind to my family.

Back when I was picked on at school—even by his own best friend, Jax…Cayden had always been kind to me .

But I don't have time to go losing myself in the past, mooning over my middle school crush or indulging in explicit fantasies about the ripped mountain man he is now.

My dad's frown deepens. "I know you and that Tucker boy were close, and he was good to your grandmother, but…"

"But?"

"The rest of that crew he's living with." He shakes his head. "I'm not sure if I trust them."

Oh. Right. Cayden had come home from his hitch in the army with Jax in tow, along with three other men, each of them as muscular and rugged as the rest. I've never spoken with any of them during my visits, but I've glimpsed them and their powerful physiques from a distance.

They were a damn sight, taking up half the room at the funeral, their shoulders near broad enough they could each fill a pew on their own.

One was so tall his head almost scraped the ceiling.

I shiver as a low flicker of heat sparks to life inside me. I'm not sure if I trust them, either. Or maybe I should say that I'm not sure if I trust myself around them.

But it doesn't matter. The point is moot. "Don't worry, Dad. I can take care of myself. The chances of me needing to go to those big scary men for help is between slim and none."

His scowl finally softens. "Okay, pumpkin."

"Now go. You don't want to still be on the roads after dark." Up here on the mountain, they can get treacherous.

"Okay, okay. Promise you'll call if anything goes wrong?"

"For the thousandth time—"

"Fine." He pulls me in.

With a hug and a kiss, I basically shove him out the door.

He goes, looking back a couple of times as he makes his way to the rented SUV he drove up here from the airport exactly two weeks ago today.

I stand there in the doorway, even though it's letting the frigid night air in.

I can't feel the cold. All I can feel is the solitude, slowly draping itself around me.

Lonely Peak, indeed.

My father blinks the headlights at me, and mustering one last burst of cheer, I force a smile and wave. I close the door and peer out through the faceted glass as he pulls away.

And then it's real. I'm here. Alone.

I shake off my melancholy the best I can. I should be used to being by myself by now. People have walked out on me enough in my life.

This feels different, though, somehow.

The wind outside howls, and is it just me, or is the siding on this old house more rattly-sounding than it used to be? Oh, God, what if there are animals living in it? Grandma had a whole nest of possums living under the rafters once and had to chase them out.

I can just picture it—her with her glasses on and her gray hair pinned high on her head, screaming while shaking a broom. The image makes me smile, right before it crushes me with a wave of unbearable sadness.

I just miss her, is all.

For a moment, I want to grab my keys and get into Grandma's old truck and chase after my father. Tell him to take me with him or beg him to stay. This house is too much for any single person. My grandmother may have managed it, but she was stronger than I am.

Another gust of wind makes a branch scratch against a window, and I almost jump clear out of my skin. What the hell was I thinking, staying here?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I imagine what my grandmother would say, seeing me freaking out like this. I can almost hear her voice.

"It's fine," I mutter to myself. "It's all going to be all right."

Opening my eyes, I force myself to look around.

There's work to be done here. We're going to have enough trouble selling this old place as it is. Finding a buyer who wants to live on the mountain, out in the middle of nowhere is a challenge, but in this state? It would be impossible.

I hate to admit it, but the place is a total mess.

My grandmother may have been strong, but she wasn't strong enough to battle her cancer and the cobwebs both, there at the end.

The whole house needs to be cleaned out.

Generations worth of my family's things need to be sorted and stored.

Repairs must be made. The job falls to me.

How could I let my grandmother down, after everything she did for me?

Nodding to myself, I clench my hands into fists at my side and face the wreckage. There's no time like the present to get started.

As emboldened as I'm going to be, I head toward the basement where some of the easiest pickings live.

Stuff has been accumulating down there for decades, and I'm pretty sure most of it can be donated or thrown away.

The rickety stairs creak beneath my feet.

Through the small half-windows set into the cinderblocks, I can see the world outside getting dark.

I make it all the way to the base of the stairs before another fierce gust of wind rattles the siding.

Two seconds later the power goes out.