Page 2 of Mountain Man Wanted (Hard Timber Mountain Men #1)

JOELY

It felt so good to get out of the car and stretch my legs even though the sun hadn’t quite made it over the mountains yet, and the air still held a morning chill.

I’d driven through the night to get to Hard Timber and was ready to grab the key to the cute little cabin I’d rented and settle in before exploring the area.

Shops and buildings lined both sides of the main street in town with cute names like The Knotty Tap, Hard & Handy Supply Co.

, and The Huckleberry Cafe, where I was supposed to meet someone named Nellie and pick up the key.

Hard Timber was my last stop for the freelance article I was writing about hidden gem vacation rentals.

I’d only stayed a day or two in the other towns, but I’d booked Nellie’s cabin for a week so I could finish my article and submit it before figuring out where to go next.

That was the thing about having my career blow up in my face a couple of months ago.

I didn’t have an office to get back to or a boss ready to hand me my next assignment.

It was up to me to figure out how to make my own way, and I was terrified.

Faking a confidence I didn’t feel, I glanced at the two massive men standing on the sidewalk outside of the cafe and smiled. I’d learned it was best to get off on the right foot in a town the size of Hard Timber. The locals were more willing to talk to me when I was friendly and open.

“Good morning.” My stomach did back flips as I passed.

The tall one looked like he’d just stepped out of an ad for lumberjacks.

With dark hair, a full beard covering the lower half of his face, and narrowed eyes that looked like they didn’t miss a beat, he embodied the spirit of a grumpy mountain man.

I even caught a whiff of pine and wood smoke drifting off his plaid flannel shirt.

“Morning,” he mumbled back.

With just one word, his deep, gravelly tone rumbled through me. I almost stumbled on the step leading into the cafe. Obviously, it had been too long since I’d shared the company of a man, especially one as gruff and grumbly as him. Regaining my composure, I pulled the door open.

Walking into the cafe felt like being hugged by an old friend. Coffee percolated behind the counter, an old Johnny Cash song crackled through the speakers, and the scent of pancakes and syrup tickled my nose.

“You must be Joely.” A petite, gray-haired woman with a pencil tucked behind her ear stood behind a cash register that looked even older than she was. “I’m Nellie. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

I’d planned on just grabbing the key, but a cup of coffee sure sounded good. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“Just slide onto a stool, hon.” Nellie grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim. “It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m just thrilled you’re including The Huckleberry Hideaway on your list.”

I wrapped my hands around the mug, warming my fingers. “Thanks for having me. I’m excited to check out your place. It’s the first one I’ve stayed at that has its own mini petting zoo.”

Nellie flushed as she rested a hip against the counter. “It’s more like a collection of lost souls that need a place to live out their days.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to meeting them.

” I reached for a container of cream and stirred a little into my coffee.

Like most small-town diners, The Huckleberry Cafe made their coffee strong enough to wake up Rip van Winkle.

While I added half a packet of sugar, I swiveled on my stool to glance out the front window.

To check the weather, I lied to myself. It’s not like I was looking to see if Paul Bunyan was still standing outside.

Nellie caught me. “The taller one is Thatcher. Grumpier than a barn cat in a bubble bath, but he’s got a good heart. The other one is Holt. He’s on our local fire crew and has the cutest little boy.”

“Oh.” It was my turn to blush. My cheeks heated like they’d been kissed by the sun. “I was just checking the weather.”

“Mmm hmm.” Nellie smiled to herself. “Now, what’ll you have for breakfast? I’ll pack up some muffins and scones for tomorrow, but since you’re here, I want to send you off with a full belly.”

I hadn’t even looked at a menu, but a man sitting a few stools away had just dug into a huge pile of French toast. I nodded toward him. “That sure looks good.”

“Good choice. Huckleberry stuffed French toast. It’s one of the best things on the menu. I’ll have that out to you in a flash.” She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to look around and get a feel for the place.

The little cafe was exactly what I expected based on the other small mountain towns I’d visited over the past two weeks.

About a dozen booths lined the back wall and tables set for two, four, or six sat in front of the large front window.

Bright push pins held announcements on a bulletin board by the front door.

Two ceiling fans lazily spun above, just fast enough to circulate the air.

I glanced back at the window, hoping I might catch another glimpse of the guy she’d called Thatcher, but he was gone.

My chest tightened, but it was for the best. I needed to focus on my article and figure out my next steps.

And while I didn’t know where I might end up, there was no room in my life for a grumpy mountain man.

Not even one as attractive as the flannel-clad hottie.

Before I finished my first cup of coffee, Nellie was back with a pile of French toast stacked so high I wondered if I might become gluten-intolerant by just smelling it. She waited until I took the first bite before refilling my mug and taking off with the carafe of coffee in hand.

When I’d stuffed my belly past the point of comfortably full, Nellie packed the rest of my breakfast in a to-go container, handed me a bag full of something that smelled like fresh-baked heaven, and slid a key across the counter.

“Here you go. My number’s on the keyring. Call if you have questions.” She waved off the money I tried to hand her. “Breakfast is part of your stay. Come back tomorrow and you can try our mountain skillet and check out the farmer’s market kick-off.”

I was always looking for more local flavor to add to my story. “That sounds interesting. Is it an all-day thing?”

“It goes from seven until two. We’ll have local artisans, fresh produce, and even a few of my animals there. You’ll have to stop by. Everyone in town will probably walk through at some point.” Her brow arched slightly. “You will come, won’t you?”

“Sounds great. I’ll see you then.” I picked up the bag, the takeout container, and my purse and made my way back to the car.

The temperature had warmed up a little since I’d gone inside.

I tucked everything into the car and drove through the middle of town, following my GPS to the cabin.

When I’d booked it, the listing warned that it was almost at the end of a dead-end road, but I wasn’t prepared for the deep ruts that made my car rattle and shake.

I finally pulled into the drive of an adorable cottage that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.

It was tucked against the base of the mountain where wildflowers gave way to tall, dense pine trees.

Planters full of purple and white blooms hung from the railing of the front porch.

Their sweet scent mingled with the smell of damp earth as I got out and looked around.

A family of ducks waddled down the drive and a miniature horse whinnied from a paddock behind the cottage. The porch held two heavy wooden rocking chairs… the perfect place to sip my morning coffee. I walked toward the bright purple door, eager to look inside.

It didn’t disappoint. The inside was even more charming.

Whitewashed wooden walls held colorful framed prints of flower-covered hills.

I stepped into the cozy living area, anchored by a large wood-burning stove in the corner.

An overstuffed couch sat on the opposite wall with a fantastic view of the mountains right out the window.

I carried my bag up the spiral staircase to the bedroom where Nellie had left a vase of wildflowers next to the bed. Out of all the places I’d stayed, The Huckleberry Hideaway was already my favorite.

I should have been ready for a nice, long nap, but I felt the need to walk off some of the French toast before crawling into bed. So, I changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, grabbed a long-sleeved button down to shrug on over my shoulders, and laced up my hiking boots.

Since I’d come in on the road, I already knew what I’d see if I headed back in the same direction.

I grabbed my notebook, favorite pen, and a trail map Nellie had left, shoved them into my daypack, and took a right out of the drive.

The road curved around a bend ahead, and I wondered what I might find.

Before I made it too far, footsteps sounded on the road behind me. I turned to find a black and white goat trotting toward me. Figuring it must be one of Nellie’s, I waited for it to catch up.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “Did you get out, or does she let you have free rein?”

The goat stared up at me with big blue eyes, its jaw slowing moving back and forth like it was chewing a big wad of bubble gum. A light blue collar circled its neck, and I stepped close enough to read the silver tag that dangled in front.

“Hi, Gene.” I flipped the tag over to find Nellie’s name and phone number on the back. “I don’t know if you’re allowed to be out here. What do you think?”

It nodded its head and let out a soft Baaaaaaa .

“Why don’t you go on home?” The last thing I needed was to go hiking with a goat.

Gene slowly blinked, then turned and trotted back down the drive.

“That’s a good goat,” I called after him.

Waiting until he disappeared around the corner of the cottage, I checked the trail map for a relatively short hike.

Looked like there was one just a couple hundred yards ahead.

Based on the map, I estimated the whole hike should take me less than an hour and wear me out enough to come back and sleep through the rest of the morning.

I took a sip of water and set off again, invigorated by the fresh mountain air. Birds chirped from the tree branches, and I caught a glimpse of bright blue sky overhead. The mountains of Montana were a world away from the Chicago skyscrapers I’d left behind.

I thought about what my ex-co-workers might be doing right now.

Probably fighting traffic on their way in or out of the city or sweating their butts off on a coffee run.

I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t miss it.

But I couldn’t stay. Not after the stunt my boss pulled that turned my whole world upside down.

Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to solve anything.

I looked around for something bright and beautiful to pull me out of my funk.

A cluster of pink wildflowers bloomed in a clearing just off the trail ahead.

I stepped through the long grass to reach them and snapped a few pictures, trying to line up a shot to get the mountains in the background.

“Can’t you read?” A gruff voice snapped from the edge of the trees.

I turned toward the sound, all of my senses on high alert. The flannel-clad mountain man I’d seen outside the cafe stood a few yards in front of me. Muscular arms covered in tattoos crossed over his broad chest and the edges of his lips turned down in a scowl.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I probably should have been scared, but my gut told me he wasn’t interested in hurting me. I’d always trusted my instincts before. Now would be a really bad time for them to fail me.

“I asked if you can read.” He pointed to a No Trespassing sign nailed to a tree. “I’m assuming you can’t, since you clearly didn’t pay any attention to the signs I posted.”

“I’m just stretching my legs and taking a few pictures.” I waited for him to speak, but he stared at me like I’d just committed a felony instead of overlooking a few signs. “I’m staying at The Huckleberry?—”

“I know. Nellie told me.” Irritation rolled off him. Nellie hadn’t been kidding when she said he was a grump.

“I’m Joely.” Hoping a smile and a handshake might thaw the iceberg in front of me, I moved closer and stuck out my hand.

He looked at it for a long beat, then reluctantly gripped my hand in his. “Thatcher.”

Goosebumps popped up along my arms as we touched.

His palm felt rough against mine, like he worked with his hands for a living.

For a split second, I imagined what they might feel like running over my skin.

Then he pulled his hand away. The scowl returned, though slightly less scowly. Maybe I was making progress.

“Do you live around here?” More curious than alarmed, I wanted to learn what I could about this man who had the power to make me feel things I hadn’t felt in a very long time… things I had no business feeling in the mountains of Montana.

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this.”

“Not doing what?” He acted like I’d offended him, but all I’d done was ask a question.

“The property line’s back there.” He jabbed a thick finger toward a tree a couple dozen feet behind me. One of his No Trespassing signs was nailed at eye level. “You stay on that side and everything will be fine.”

If he hadn’t looked so serious, I might have laughed. “So much for small-town hospitality.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there with his arms at his sides like he was waiting for me to retreat and leave him alone.

“Fine.” I put my hands up and backed away. “Relax, Paul Bunyan. I’m not here to steal your axe. Just wanted to find a good trail to walk off some of Nellie’s stuffed French toast.”

His frown faded just a smidge. “There’s a trail behind Nellie’s cabin that’ll take you to a private lake. Just follow it until it splits and stay to the left. You can’t miss it.”

“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Acting like a human being instead of a tree stump.” I flashed him a grateful smile and turned around to head back the way I’d come. I’d save my hike for another day. My interaction with the grumpy lumbersnack had already worn me out.