Page 1 of Her Older Mountain Man

Chapter 1

Colette

“This…fricking…thing,” I huff. I heave the heavy suitcase up the wooden steps to the cabin.

One suitcase. That’s all I took with me. It’s a big suitcase, but still, condensing my life down to a single piece of luggage is incredibly depressing.

I finally maneuver the suitcase onto the porch and pause to wipe my forehead and breathe. It’s beautiful up here, at least. Two hours away from my old place, a lonely drive through winding mountain roads. I haven’t even seen another person or car in sixty miles. Nothing but deer, birds, and squirrels. It was…kind of nice, honestly.

The owner takes good care of this place, I decide as I drag the suitcase up to the front door. The wooden porch is well-maintained and swept clean, and planters full of autumn flowers surround the steps. I unlock the door and it swings open silently on well-oiled hinges, and I get my first look at the inside of my new home.

For the next month, anyway, and then I need to figure out something more permanent. A new job. A home. My stomach churns, and I do my best to ignore it.

This is really nice,I think as I step inside and peer around at the interior. Small and homey, with wooden floors and white-painted walls. It smells like cedar, I think. Cedar and fresh air and sunshine.

There’s an overstuffed sofa and chair in front of a stone fireplace—a perfect spot to curl up and read. I abandon my suitcase near the front door and wander into the kitchen, which occupies a corner of the great room. There’s a note on the refrigerator, and I bend down to read it.

105 Pine Mountain Way

Rent is paid in full for thirty days.

For any urgent issues, please come see me at my house.

-Owen Morningstar

Underneath the neat, boxy handwriting is a carefully sketched map of directions to his home, just half a mile up the winding lane. Behind the note, I find another sheet of paper. A copy of the lease. Paid in full, just like the note says, by Luke Barnes. I see Luke’s familiar handwriting and his scrawled signature, and it sends a pang through my chest.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and unlock it. Maybe Luke called or texted. I want so badly to hear from him, and it makes it hurt all the more when I look at my texts, calls and even my e-mails and see nothing.

Luke Barnes, my first love and the only man I’ve ever been with, the father of my unborn baby, has abandoned me here, two hours from the home we’ve shared for the past two years. Part of me hoped that he would have some second thoughts, but I was kidding myself. It’s over, and my consolation prize was thirty days in a remote cabin to figure out how to raise a baby on my own.

I tap the phone screen a few more times and send a text to my best friend, Maddie.

Got here safe, I say.Miss you.

A second later, her reply pops up on the screen.

Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?

I snort.No thanks, I type.You two need privacy.

You can change your mind anytime, she responds swiftly.

I send back a series of hearts and slide my phone back into my pocket. I love Maddie to pieces, but it doesn’t feel right to go stay with her and Gabe in their new house. They really do need the privacy, and if I truly amaloneright now—if Luke really has abandoned me--then I need this time away. To heal. To think.

But even if it’s the right choice, it still hurts, and I can’t stop the fat tears that slide down my cheeks as I rummage through the cabinets and pull out a package of instant noodles and a saucepan. I sniffle the whole time while I boil the water, stir the noodles around as they soften and mix in the salty little seasoning packet. By the time I nestle into the couch with a book and my sad little bowl of noodles, I’ve given in to full-throated crying.

It’s—well, a relief. I’ve been soldiering through all of this as calmly as I can since the second that I saw that little pink plus sign two weeks ago, and I’mexhausted.When the tears finally stop flowing, I rub my swollen eyes and yawn as I pad down the hallway and into the bedroom. There’s a four-poster bed with a fluffy quilt, and even though it’s early, I slide into the clean, soft sheets and curl up on my side, my palm on my belly.

“You and me, baby,” I whisper in the dark. I imagine a tiny spark, deep inside me, and I feel a little less alone. “No matter what happens, I’m with you.”

I dream of a sturdy little boy with my dark hair and olive skin, and I’m just about to reach out to him to drag him into my arms when I wake up to a tinny crash from outside the cabin.

The garbage cans, I realize, and on cue, there’s another metallic clang and a loud rustling, like something is tearing through whatever was in there.

It has to be a bear, I think. I can feel the blood drain from my face as I sit and listen to the commotion outside. Something scrapes against the outside wall of the cabin, close to the bedroom window. I don’t waste another second and charge out of the bedroom. I scoop up my phone and car keys from the counter and race to the front door. When I crack it open and look outside, I don’t see anything, but I can still hear the clatter coming from the other side of the house. With a deep breath, I charge out of the house, straight for my car. Once I slam the door shut and lock it, I shove my key into the ignition with shaking fingers, and without waiting another second to see if the bear is coming any closer, I slam my foot on the gas and drive off into the night, up the hill to Owen Morningstar’s cabin.

The roar dead ends with his gravel driveway. I can’t see much of the house, but it’s definitely bigger than the little rental cabin. All the lights are off, but there’s a truck in the driveway, so I hope he’s just asleep and not gone.

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