Mountain Grump Secret (Mountain Grumps #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Tessa

The sun is setting fast, and the building clouds aren’t helping matters.

The sky has turned gray and moody—the little I can see through the towering mountain peaks, that is.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the mountains.

I’d forgotten how big they really are and how small they always make me feel.

The highway gave way to a much narrower road about twenty minutes ago. Right about the time the GPS on my phone cut out, the screen flashed uselessly before going completely blank.

Perfect.

I probably should turn around and head back to the nearest city, but that’s hours behind me now. Besides, I’ve already come this far, and I can’t give up on anything else. Not now.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel as the road curves upward, the forest closing in on both sides. The tall pines close out what little light is left. There are no streetlights out here. No houses. No… nothing.

I haven’t passed another car in I don’t even know how long. The worry and doubt I’ve been trying to push down are starting to creep in. Maybe I should have called first. Maybe I should have told someone—anyone—what I was doing or where I was going.

It’s fine, I tell myself. I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is going to be fine.

The last forty-eight hours have been filled with life-altering decisions; driving to my father’s house unannounced hardly seems like a big deal compared to everything I just left behind.

I blow out a breath and refocus on the road. I just need to keep going a little bit longer.

Then, as if I’ve manifested it, my headlights catch on something ahead.

A worn wooden sign stands just off the shoulder of the road. The paint is faded, but I can make out the words carved deep in the wood.

IRON PEAK

I stare at the sign as I drive by, excitement and fear battling within me. My dad has lived on this remote mountain ever since he left my mom and me when I was twelve, but I’ve never been here. He always said it was too remote. Too wild. Too… much.

It’s taken me fourteen years, but I finally decided to see for myself. Was it Iron Peak he was trying to keep me away from? Or was he just trying to keep me away?

I no longer know.

My dad chose this place when everything else in his life fell apart. He chose it over me. I need to see for myself what the appeal is.

Seeing the name on the sign makes it more real. There’s no going back now.

There’s also no going much farther, either. Not until I get more specific instructions to Dad’s place. The only address I’ve ever had was for his post box in town.

I’d planned to call when I got close, but judging by my still-dead phone, that isn’t much of an option.

Soon, the trees clear a little to reveal a main street. It’s not much.

There are a handful of storefronts, half of which look abandoned. There’s a general store, closed for the day, and… a pub!

Perfect.

They’ll have a phone.

I park my car between two huge trucks, both splattered with mud, their tires almost as tall as my little hatchback. I grab my purse and my now-useless phone, eying the weathered sign swinging above the door as I get out of the car.

THE RUSTY NAIL

Maybe they’ll have free Wi-Fi or a landline, or… literally anything I can call my dad with.

I push the door open and step inside. The noise dies before the door swings shut behind me.

The noise dies. Not completely, but just enough that it feels like everyone is holding their breath. A chair scrapes across the floor. Someone coughs.

And every head turns my way.

It’s darker inside than I expected, the low light and amber casting shadows in the already dim room.

It smells of stale beer, deep-fried food, and… the sharp tang of men.

Looking around, I don’t see one other female face. My eyes lock on the bartender, a towel slung over his shoulder, his expression more curious than predatory. I pull my shoulders back and pick my way through the room full of big men.

And they are big. All of them. Thick arms, muddy boots, and broad shoulders crowd together around rough wooden tables, their dark eyes following me as I make my way to the bar.

I don’t belong here.

I’ve always been confident, and I know how to hold my own with men who get a little too forward or think they’re entitled to my attention just because they have a penis dangling between their legs. I’ve never had an issue owning my space or meeting a stare without flinching.

But this isn’t a college bar in the city full of drunk boys. This is a room full of men who know exactly who belongs here and who doesn’t.

And right now, I don’t.

My skin prickles as their eyes linger. It’s not threatening. Not yet. But I’m not naive enough that I don’t understand the situation I’ve just put myself in.

But I don’t have any other choice. I force myself to keep my shoulders straight, my chin up, and my expression neutral. Maybe if I act as if I belong, they might all start to believe it.

A man leans back in his chair; another turns on his barstool.

I ignore them and focus on the bartender who watches my approach with a bemused expression on his face. “You lost, little lady?” he asks when I get close enough.

“My phone isn’t working,” I say, ignoring his question. “Do you have a landline I can borrow?”

“No service up here in the mountains,” he says as if I should have expected as much. Before I can challenge him, he adds, “Phone’s behind the bar.” He gestures with his head.

Relief loosens the knot between my shoulders, and I move quickly. Dialing the number I’ve had memorized since I was a kid, I keep my back turned to the room, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling the curious eyes watching me.

I lower my voice instinctively as the call connects.

“Dad,” I say when he answers. “It’s me. I’m in Iron Peak.”

Holt

The smell of fresh-cut pine still hangs in the air when my phone vibrates on the shelf where I left it.

I don’t get a lot of calls, which is still more than I’d like, but when my buddy Luke put in the satellite system to bring us cell coverage on the mountain, he insisted we all use it.

In case of emergency.

Which, besides a few unsolicited sales calls, was in fact the only time it rang. Ever.

I brush the sawdust from my hands and glance over at the screen, lit up with Luke’s name.

Shit.

I grab the phone. “Luke.”

“My kid’s in town,” he says without preamble.

His voice is tight with that edge I recognize instantly. The same one he had years ago when we served together, when things were going sideways and there wasn’t time for explanations.

“Your—”

“I’m in the city for meetings,” he cuts me off. “I need you to get her.”

I close my eyes and lean back against the workbench, staring up at the rafters of my workshop. Outside, the clouds have already started to thicken, the spring storm that’s been threatening all day settling in.

“I didn’t know she was coming.”

“Well, fuck,” Luke says. “Neither did I, or I’d be there myself.” He blows out a breath. “I can’t get away for a few more days, and she’s already there. At the Rusty Nail.”

That pulls me fully out of my head.

Fuck.

“What the fuck is she doing there?” It doesn’t matter because whatever the reason, the only thing that matters is that she shouldn’t be there. The Rusty Nail isn’t a place I choose to spend time, and it definitely isn’t a place for a kid.

I blow out a slow breath. “I’m on my way.”

Luke doesn’t thank me. He never does. We burned through the formalities of our relationship a long time ago.

We’d served together decades ago, little more than kids ourselves. Luke had a daughter back then, juggling fatherhood and marriage while serving overseas, which didn’t leave a lot of room for much else. But he had us. His brothers.

I met the kid when she was small. The last time I’d seen her was before Luke and Cheryl split up for good. She was eleven or twelve, maybe. All big eyes and scraped knees, following her dad around like his shadow. And when I popped in, she’d look at me the same way. Like I was a hero or something.

I was most definitely not.

Still wasn’t.

I leave the workshop and my half-finished table behind and jump in the truck to rescue the kid who has no business on this mountain.

The last thing I want to do with a storm coming in is babysit.

My jaw is set tight as I navigate the slick roads, the rain already starting to fall, slowing my passage down the rough mountain roads.

With the way the rain is falling, I don’t have much time for my task. The roads will be impassable soon, and I want to be on the right side of them before that happens.

Tessa

I slide into a booth in the far corner of the bar. It’s the only seat available and a little further from the door than I’d prefer, but there don’t seem to be many options while I wait.

Wait.

I’m still not even sure what I’m waiting for.

Dad’s not even home.

I still can’t believe it. I’d just assumed… I knew I should have called first.

Still. I can’t change anything now.

“I’ll just go up to your place,” I’d suggested to him on the phone.

“No. The roads aren’t safe. Stay where you are. I’ll figure it out.”

So here I am. Waiting for… a rescue?

I probably shouldn’t be surprised that he’s not here. Somehow, for my whole life, he’s managed to not be there for me. This is pretty on-brand, really.

I wrap my hands around the glass of water in front of me but don’t take a sip. The table is sticky, the vinyl seat is cracked and worn, and I can feel every eye in the place on me.

I keep my posture relaxed and try to maintain some sort of air of belonging, despite the way my stomach is twisting in knots.

In an effort to distract myself, I pull my journal out of my purse and flip to a blank page.

Was coming to Iron Peak a bad idea? He’s not even here. Maybe I just should have left?

I look up and take a breath before continuing.

No.

I need to do this. I need to see what this place is all about. Why he’d choose it over—

“Whatcha writing?”

My head jerks up to see a big, burly, lumberjack-type man looming over me. He’s using the back of my booth as an armrest, leaning into my personal space.

Instinctively, I shut my journal. “Nothing.”

“Looks like something.” I can smell the beer on his breath; he’s so close.

Too close.

“Look.” Reluctantly, I glance up at the man. “I’m not interested.”

He chuckles as if I’ve just said something hilarious, but there’s no laughter in his voice when he says, “Maybe not, darlin’. But we are.”

That’s when I notice his buddy, standing just behind him, blocking my way out of the booth and any escape I might have.

My stomach tightens, instinct flaring sharply in my chest. I tuck my journal into my purse before I shift back against the vinyl, suddenly aware of how little space there is between the men and me.

Then a voice cuts through the noise.

Low, steady, and unmistakably authoritative.

“Back up, asshole. Now.”

The weight of the stranger’s words sends a shiver through me.

I look up to see my savior.

He’s huge.

Taller and broader than either of the men who are bothering me. Besides his size, he has a quiet strength and authority about him that’s changed the mood in the room.

The men around me straighten, hesitation flickering across their faces as they back up.

The man’s gaze drops to mine, and something in his expression softens, just enough to make my breath catch.

“She’s with me.”

Holt

I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.

In Iron Peak, words carry weight when you mean them, and I’ve never been careless with mine.

These assholes know better than to mess with me.

Not that I expect any of them to bother me. Not again.

I recognize the man leaning into her space, but I don’t care enough to remember his name.

The moment I speak, he straightens up slowly, the leering smile slipping from his face as his eyes move from her to me.

He hesitates, but only for a second as he sizes up the situation, ultimately making the smart choice.

“Didn’t know,” he mutters, already backing away, his friend already gone.

“You do now.”

I wait until he’s gone, too, before turning my attention to her.

She’s looking up at me, wide-eyed but steady. She’s clearly shaken, but there’s a strong confidence underlying her bravado, too.

The resemblance to Luke hits me in the gut. Not in appearance, not really. But in the way she holds herself when things get uncomfortable.

Just like her dad.

“You okay?” I ask quietly.

She nods once, the grip on her purse loosening. She reaches around and pulls her long blond hair back from her shoulder, and that’s when it hits me.

Hard.

She is not the kid I remember.

Tessa has grown into a woman, and the realization lands like a blow to the chest.

Before I can stop them, my eyes catch on the soft swell of her breasts beneath her sweater. Long, lean legs tucked beneath the table.

My gut tightens.

Fuck me.

This isn’t babysitting.

I look away immediately, my jaw tightening as I force my attention back to her face.

“Your dad sent me,” I say, keeping my voice even. “He asked me to come get you.”

Her lips turn down into a small frown as she processes what I just told her.

“I’m Holt,” I add. “Luke and I…”

“Holt!” she jumps up with so much enthusiasm, I step back. “I remember you,” she adds with a little blush.

I’m not sure what to do with that, so I just nod. “Let’s get you out of here,” I say. “The storm’s getting worse. We need to get back before we get trapped.”

I step aside and wait as she slides out of the booth. Her shoulder brushes my arm, and my body sparks instantly.

It hits me with dangerous clarity that what I’m feeling has nothing to do with responsibility and everything to do with the beautiful woman by my side.