Page 2 of Mountain Daddy (Mountain Men #2)

Kendra

“Yeah, sorry. I just don’t want to drive in the dark.” I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll leave early tomorrow and be there by lunch.”

Dad lets out a breath that makes me feel a little bad. “I understand. Safety first.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m like twenty minutes away so you can get the streamers and balloons set up.”

Dad chuckles, as I’d hoped. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll put the strobe lights away until then.”

“Good plan. Night, Dad.”

“Night, Kenny.”

The call disconnects, and I slump back in my seat.

It’ll be easy to message him when I’m twenty minutes away tomorrow, because I’m twenty minutes away right now.

But I wasn’t lying about the dark. It’s already pitch black. And there are no streetlights out here in the mountains. So, when I saw the sign a mile back about a motel up ahead, I made a game-day decision to have one more night of freedom.

One more night alone.

One more night of independence before I, a fully grown adult, move into my dad’s house.

I grab my backpack and wallet off my passenger seat and climb out of my car. Glad I put some fresh clothes in my bag just in case.

Bumping my door shut with my hip, I slip my arms through the straps of my pack, arching my back with a groan.

As much as I might be dreading this next phase of my life, I’m ready to be done driving.

I roll my neck out.

Before me is a two-story motel, nicely lit, painted a dark red with bright white railings.

It’s about as classic as they come. And this one even includes what looks like a dive bar, front and center.

A cliff looms behind the building, giving the motel an impossibly dark backdrop.

With my thumbs hooked in my backpack straps, I do a slow turn.

A handful of cars sit in the parking lot beside mine, but the two-lane highway is empty.

I take a deep inhale of the crisp air.

And even though the sun has set, I can tell that the opposite side of the highway boasts a stunning view of the Rockies.

I’ll hand it to Dad—this is a beautiful state. So at least there’s that.

Pushing thoughts of my new home out of my mind, I straighten my spine and stride toward the sign for Rocky Ridge Inn.