Rough & Rugged (Cherry Mountain Lumberjacks #1)

Chapter 1 Aria

ARIA

Cherry Hollow is still half asleep as I drag my suitcase along the icy sidewalk.

The streets are quiet, muffled by snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground.

It’s been a while since I last visited, but this town never changes.

It still looks like a scene from a snow globe—all quaint old buildings and rustic charm.

White-capped peaks rise on all sides, but Cherry Mountain looms the highest, like a giant sentinel watching over the town.

I missed this place.

With a pang of familiarity, I let my gaze wander over Main Street’s colorful storefronts.

Mountain Brew – Hot Drinks & Baked Goods

Fireside Lodge – Est. 1890

Buttercup Bakery – Best Cherry Pie in Crave County

The last sign makes me smile. I’ve searched all over New York City, checking out bakeries with lines out the door and prices that made my eyes water. But nothing compares to a cherry pie from this place.

I hurry into the warmth of the bakery, savoring the smell of butter and sugar, before emerging a few minutes later with a pie box tucked under one arm.

Then I make a beeline across the street for Bonnie’s Tavern.

It’s the most popular watering hole in Cherry Hollow, and everyone here knows Bonnie as a familiar face around town.

Personally, I know her as Grandma.

The tavern isn’t open yet, but Grandma is expecting me, so I walk right in. It’s a cozy old saloon, crisscrossed with exposed beams and string lights. Black-and-white photos of Cherry Hollow dot the timber walls, and a stone fireplace crackles in the corner.

Grandma is standing behind the bar, humming along to a Billy Joel song on the radio.

Her white hair is cut shorter than last time I saw her, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose as she looks through a stack of menus.

Someone else is already here—a woman with dark hair, sitting on a barstool with her back to me.

Before I can see who it is, Grandma looks up.

“Aria!”

She tosses the menus aside and hurries toward me. She’s a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, but her hugs pack a big punch. Her thin arms wrap around me like a vise, and I set down the pie and suitcase before hugging her back. She smells the same as always, like soap and wood polish.

“Hi, Grandma. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, honey.” Her bright blue eyes are full of warmth as she pulls back to look at me. “I’m so happy you’re here. It’s been too long. God, I haven’t seen you since…”

She trails off, but I know what she’s thinking. We haven’t seen each other since the funeral three months ago.

“Well, you’re here now,” she says. “That’s all that matters.”

As she fusses over me, my gaze catches on the woman at the bar. She’s moving toward us, beaming widely.

“Savannah?” I say, my heart lifting. “Hi!”

“Hey, Aria.” My cousin hugs me almost as tight as Grandma did. “I’m so happy you’re back!”

“Me too. I had no idea you were here. I thought you were still in Arizona.”

“Nope.” She smiles sheepishly. “I dropped out of college, so I’m back in Cherry Hollow for good.”

“Arizona’s loss,” Grandma says, wrapping her spindly arms around me and Savannah. “Means I get to have my grandbabies all to myself.” She presses a smacking kiss on both of our cheeks, then adds, “Oh, Aria! Did I mention Savannah’s an author now?”

“Grandma, you need to stop telling people that.” Savannah sounds exasperated. “Writing is just a hobby. I work at a bookstore…I’m not an author.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“But I’m not—”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Grandma cuts in. “Aria, do you know any cute guys in New York?”

I blink at her. “What?”

“Cute guys. You know, handsome young men, like Clint Eastwood or Warren Beatty.”

“Isn’t Clint Eastwood in his nineties?”

She waves off my words. “You know what I mean.”

“Sorry, no cute guys on my radar.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Since when were you so desperate for a boy toy?”

“I’m not asking for me!” She lets out a croaky laugh. “I’ve had my fun. No, it’s your cousin I’m worried about. Our hopeless romantic here isn’t having much luck.”

“Please not this again,” Savannah protests.

“Well, there was no harm in asking.” Grandma shrugs. “I just figured there could be more fish to choose from in New York. More dicks in the sea—”

I try not to laugh as Savannah groans, her cheeks flaming. She turns to me, eager to change the subject.

“Ari, is that a cherry pie?”

“Yep. Just a little something to say hi.”

“I’ll go cut us a slice.” She takes the box and scurries behind the bar, still blushing furiously as she disappears into the kitchen.

“Poor Savannah,” Grandma sighs, shaking her head. “Can’t even hear the word dick without having to leave the room.”

She guides me to the bar and turns the radio down before we each climb onto a barstool.

“Anyway. How are you, honey?” Her voice is hushed now that we’re alone, her hand reaching for mine.

The question breaks something inside me. I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. A familiar prickling rises behind my eyes when I see the tenderness in Grandma’s expression. She seems to understand my silence, her features softening as she pulls me close.

“My poor Ari.”

The tears spill hot and fast. They’re always there, lingering just beneath the surface. For the past three months, it feels like I’ve done nothing but hold back tears.

“It’s okay to cry, sweetie,” she says, stroking my hair. “You’ve had it rough.”

She’s not wrong.

When my dad died, my whole life collapsed right along with him. My mom left us when I was still in diapers, and he’s the only parent I’d ever known. He was only sixty—fit and healthy—but that didn’t stop his heart from giving out.

I never saw it coming.

But Dad didn’t just leave grief behind. He left crippling gambling debts that nobody knew about. I lost everything—the penthouse in Manhattan, my job at Dad’s real estate company, my car, my savings. Everything was tied to his bank accounts, so when the bank came calling, it all disappeared.

The company was sold.

The debts were cleared.

And just like that, my whole life was gone.

“S-sorry,” I sob against Grandma’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to get so upset.”

“You have every right to be upset,” she says firmly. “You lost your father, Ari. You lost everything.”

“I just wish he’d told me about the debts. I wish he’d trusted me.”

“I know, honey.” Grandma closes her eyes, letting out a bitter sigh. “I loved my son very much, and I miss him like hell. But boy, he could be a real dumbass sometimes.”

I choke out a laugh, but grief twists it into a sob. “I miss him, too.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Her bony hand grips mine tight. “I’ve already made up the guestroom upstairs. It’s not a penthouse in Manhattan, but it’s yours for as long as you need it.”

“Thank you.” My heart squeezes as she wipes my tears away.

I was so lost after Dad died. I isolated myself from the world, ignoring calls and canceling plans.

But Grandma never gave up on me. I was days away from being kicked out of the penthouse when she insisted I come to Cherry Hollow, threatening to drag me here herself if I didn’t answer.

It was exactly the kind of tough love I needed—a lifeline that pulled me out of the dark.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I tell her softly. “As soon as I find a job, I’ll pay you back for everything.”

She pulls a face. “Don’t be silly. I don’t want your money. But if you’re looking for a job, the tavern’s hiring.”

“Really?”

“You bet. Hazel’s on maternity leave, so I’m dangerously short on servers. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“That would be awesome.”

The weight in my chest eases a little.

I’m not planning to stay in Cherry Hollow forever. I just need a little breathing space—a chance to get back on my feet, save some money, and figure out my next move. Once I do, I’ll go back to New York and try to rebuild my life. At least, that’s the plan.

“We’ll talk through the details some other time,” Grandma says. “I want you to take a couple of weeks to settle in first.”

I nod and squeeze her tight, trying to pour all my gratitude into the hug. As I pull away, Savannah reemerges from the kitchen with three plates of cherry pie. She sets them in front of us and climbs onto the bar stool next to mine.

The pie is even better than I remember. Sweet, flaky, and delicious.

I tuck in as Grandma and Savannah tell me everything that’s happened in Cherry Hollow since I last visited.

I don’t talk much. Just listening to them feels comforting, like I’ve been wrapped up in a warm blanket after hours in the cold.

“Are you planning to visit the cabin soon?” Grandma asks me during a lull in the conversation, scraping up the last of her cherry pie. “Might be a good idea to get it out of the way.”

“Yeah.” My stomach pinches at the reminder. “I was hoping to go sometime today.”

Savannah looks between us. “What cabin?”

“Aria’s dad left her a little log cabin up on Cherry Mountain,” Grandma says.

“Really? I never knew that, Ari.”

“Grandma’s exaggerating a little.”

“Me? Exaggerating? Never.”

I bite back a smile before addressing Savannah. “He didn’t leave me the cabin, just a fifty-percent share of it. It only half belonged to my dad. That’s why the bank couldn’t seize it when he passed.”

She nods. “So…who owns the other half?”

“Long story, honey,” Grandma says, cleaning her glasses on the sleeve of her blouse.

“Your grandpa built the cabin back in the seventies with his buddy Craig Dalton. They used it as a logging shack in the winter months and split the ownership in half. When Craig died, his share of the cabin went to his son, Thorne.”

“And Grandpa’s share went to my dad,” I finish.

“Exactly. But your father never had much interest in country stuff.” Grandma sighs disappointedly. “He moved to Manhattan the first chance he got. God knows why! What does New York have that we don’t? Apart from noise…traffic…crowds…”

Before we’re forced to hear the whole list, Savannah butts in.

“Does Thorne still use the cabin?”

“He lives there,” Grandma says. “Made it his home a few years back, but legally, it’s still fifty percent Aria’s.”

Savannah looks at me. “So, what are you going to do? Sell him your share?”

“Yeah, if he agrees to it.” The words stick in my throat. I’m not crazy about the idea of rocking up at a stranger’s cabin and declaring that it’s half mine. Thorne must know about the shared ownership already, but it still feels unfair. The cabin is his home. I’ve never even seen it in person.

“He’ll agree to it,” Grandma says unconvincingly. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”

My stomach sinks. “Is his bark bad?”

She pauses for a beat too long. “He can be a little…grumpy. I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to you showing up at his door.” With a shrug, she adds, “He’ll just have to deal with it, honey. You inherited your half of the cabin fair and square, just like he did.”

I nod, but I still feel uneasy. My share of the cabin won’t be worth much, but even a little cash in my pocket right now would buy me a whole lot of breathing room. I just hope Thorne Dalton isn’t as much of a grump as my grandma seems to think.