by Devney Perry
This was our last showing of the afternoon. The first two homes we’d seen were in town. Both were nice, far better than this sixties monstrosity, but they were within twenty feet of a neighbor on each side.
I’d spent over a decade in apartment buildings and townhomes, sharing walls and public spaces with neighbors. I was ready to have some space.
“You’re sure you don’t want to look for something down along the lake?” Thea asked. “Something newer?”
“I just can’t afford any of those listings right now.” Only a few lakeside properties were on the market, and everything available was way outside of my budget.
Thanks for that, Adam. In a dick move, he’d contested our divorce, forcing me to spend a chunk of my savings on an expensive attorney.
So to stay within my price range, I’d have to purchase a house in the middle of Lark Cove or buy this one and do a complete renovation. The first choice was by far the easiest. But the latter option had its perks too.
This fifteen-acre property on the mountainside was gorgeous, and there was only one neighbor, a cabin about fifty yards away. It was close enough to run over in an emergency but far enough that I wouldn’t have to see them unless it was intentional.
“I do like it up here in the mountains.” Though Thea’s lakeside home was peaceful, there was something enchanting about being surrounded by hundred-year-old trees. The forest smelled rich and mossy with a hint of pine spice in the air.
“It’s a beautiful spot with your own hiking trail. You wouldn’t have to worry about setting up a home gym. Just climb this every day and you’d be in killer shape.”
“No kidding.” I was breathing harder than I ever had in a spin class.
We continued our hike, going up the steady incline behind the house that led to a ridge at the back of the property. My realtor had pointed us in this direction, encouraging us to hike to the top.
He was a good salesman, that one. The farther away from the house we walked, the more I was willing to buy it just so I’d have this as my backyard.
By the time we reached the final stretch of the trail, my thighs were burning. Sweat was beaded at my hairline and a drop rolled down my cleavage. I was comfortable in my cuffed boyfriend jeans and a casual T-shirt, but what I really should have worn was my gym attire.
“Almost there,” I told Thea as the trees opened up and the ridge came into view.
We pushed through the last twenty feet and smiled at one another as the trail leveled off, turning to run along the ridge. We followed it, stepping into an open meadow filled with spring wildflowers.
“Wow,” Thea whispered. “I’m starting to think a remodel is the way to go. Who cares what the house is like when you have this?” She held out her hands to the view.
“This is . . . unbelievable.”
From here, the towering mountains were visible in the distance. The one we’d just climbed was no more than an anthill in comparison. The valleys below were green and lush. The horizon went on and on for miles, and nearly the entire lake spread out behind our backs.
“Let’s keep going.” I took one step farther down the trail, but Thea grabbed my arm, holding me back.
“Wait,” she whispered, her eyes aimed ahead of us.
A momentary flash of panic hit. Is it a bear? I didn’t want to get eaten by a bear on my first real day in Montana. Slowly, I turned and followed her gaze, my feet ready to bolt at the sight of a grizzly.
But it wasn’t an animal that had caused her to freeze.
It was a man.
He was kneeling on the ground, about thirty feet in front of us. His head was bent and his eyes closed. His hands were pressed against his cheeks, his fingers straight as they steepled at the bridge of his nose.
Was he praying? Or meditating? Whatever he was doing, he was so consumed with it that he hadn’t noticed us down the trail.
His shaggy brown hair curled around his ears and at the back of his neck. His jaw was covered in a dark beard that tried its best to hide the fact that its owner was likely quite handsome. His green shirt was strung tight across his biceps and broad shoulders. It showcased the corded muscles of his back.
Even from a distance it was clear that he was the quintessential mountain man, big and brawny.
My first instinct was to get closer. I wanted to see what his face looked like if his hands dropped. I wanted to see the breeze play at the curled ends of his hair. But besides his rugged appeal, there was something else drawing me in. Something that made me want to wrap my arms around his narrow waist and promise him it would be okay.
He had a tragic allure, one that screamed sorrow and loss. I knew that pain all too well. Recognition hit me in a flash and I spun around, hurrying back in the direction we’d come.
That man was up here to grieve, and we’d just intruded on his private moment.
Thea was right by my side as I hustled to the trees, doing my best to keep my footsteps quiet. I held my breath until we disappeared into the safety of the forest. Neither of us spoke as we hiked down the trail, retreating to the house.
“I hope he didn’t hear us,” Thea said.
“Me too. Do you know who that is?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen him before, which is strange. I know almost everyone in Lark Cove. I bet he’s just visiting. We get a lot of tourists who come up and hike in the mountains.”
I nodded as my realtor spotted us. “What did you think? Nice spot, isn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful.” Except when I took in the house’s exterior, my face soured.
The house was a tribute to midcentury modern design with a plethora of windows and odd roof angles. It was as far from my traditional taste as you could get, and to renovate this into my forever home, I’d have to change everything.
My head ached just thinking about the construction bill.
“I can tell you the sellers are motivated on this one,” my realtor said. “It belongs to a brother and sister who each live out of state. It was a vacation home for their parents, who have since both passed. It’s been empty for about a year now.”
Which explained the musty smell and the recent price drop.
“Can I think about it?” I asked him.
“Of course. Take all the time you need.”
Thea gave me a reassuring smile, then got into the back of the car. I took one last look at the house, frowned again, then turned toward the trail we’d come down.
Find some peace. I sent my silent wish to the man on top of the mountain.
Pushing the stranger from my mind, I went to the other side of the car and got in the passenger seat. We drove down the long gravel driveway, then took yet another gravel road, this one wider and more traveled, that led back to the highway. With a wave good-bye from Thea’s front yard, I promised my realtor I’d be in touch soon.
“How’d it go?” Logan asked the minute we came inside. Camila was crying as he rocked her in his arms and Collin was bawling into his leg.
“Uh, it was good,” Thea said, eyeing her children. “What’s going on here?”
Logan blew out a long breath and handed the baby over. “These two have gone on a nap strike. While I was trying to get Camila down, Collin climbed out of his crib. He started crying and woke her up. It’s been chaos ever since. Charlie escaped to her fort when the wailing started.”
Thea laughed, then nuzzled Camila’s cheek. “Come on, baby. Let’s go cuddle.”
Now that both arms were free, Logan picked up Collin and settled him on a hip. Collin rested his head on his dad’s shoulder and his eyelids sagged.
“So did you find a place?” Logan asked, swaying his sleepy boy side to side.
I sighed. “There are options. Nothing is perfect, but I guess it never is. I was actually thinking about driving by them all again. Would you mind if I borrowed the Suburban?”
“Not at all.” He led me to the kitchen and swiped keys off the counter, tossing them over. Then, as he headed toward Coll
in’s room, I went outside and to the garage.
It took me the entire trip through town to get used to driving a vehicle two times the size of my Mini Cooper, but by the time I headed up the gravel road toward the mountain home, I’d gotten the hang of it.
The moment I parked under the tall canopy of trees, my gut began screaming, “This one! This one!” When I’d driven past the two homes in town, the only reaction I’d had was one burp.
I got out and surveyed the area again. This house might be hideous, but the location was serenity incarnate. I would have peace here. I would have quiet. I would—
A pained roar from across the trees startled me, and I looked toward the neighboring property. The moment my eyes landed on the log cabin nestled between tree trunks, a loud shout filled the air. “Fuck!”
I flinched again, then froze, listening for another sound. It didn’t come. Was someone hurt? Should I go check?
There was a path between this house and theirs, so I took it, hurrying in case someone’s life was at stake. I rushed right past ferns and forest bushes to the steps leading to the cabin’s front door. Without delay, I pounded on the wooden face since there wasn’t a doorbell. “Hello?”
Angry footsteps thudded on the floor. The entire porch shook and I backed up a step. My fist was still lifted when the door whipped open and none other than the man from the ridge appeared in its frame.
“What?” he snapped, planting his hands on his hips.
“I, uh . . .” Any other words I’d planned to speak fell away.
This man was even more handsome than I’d expected. He was tall, standing at least six inches above my five seven. His nose was maybe the most perfect nose I’d ever seen, straight with a strong bridge set perfectly in the center of his high cheekbones. But it was his eyes that swayed me sideways.
They weren’t green or brown or gold, but this incredible swirl of all three. The ring around the edge was like melted chocolate.
I hadn’t been with anyone since my ex-husband and I had separated over two years ago. A rush of desire, one I hadn’t felt in a long time, rolled down my body. It pooled between my legs, curling in my belly as I raked my eyes over this man’s thick chest and flat stomach.
The man’s eyes flared as he looked me up and down. He tried to cover it up with annoyance, but there was lust in his darkening eyes.
“What?” he barked, louder this time.
I came unstuck, breathing again as I forced my eyes away from his soft lips. He had an old rag wrapped around one of his hands and blood was soaking through.
“I heard a crash so I thought I’d come over to see if everything was okay. Are you hurt?” I reached for him, but he jerked back.
“Fine,” he grumbled. And with that, he spun around on his brown boots, stomped inside and shut the door.
“Seriously?” I whispered.
I gave him a moment to come back and be neighborly. I got nothing in return.
“Nice to meet you!” I waved at the closed door. “My name is Piper Campbell, in case you were wondering.”
Nothing.
“I’m thinking about buying the place next door.”
Still nothing.
“Great talk, uh . . .” I searched the porch, landing on a red and white cooler by the railing. KAINE was written on the handle in block letters. “See you around, Kaine.”
My crazy was starting to show, so I turned around and walked back to the Suburban. The minute I hopped up into the driver’s seat, I pulled out my phone from my handbag and dialed my realtor.
“Hi, it’s Piper. I’ve given it some thought and made my decision.” My eyes stayed glued to the cabin across the way. “I want the mountain house. It’s just what I need.”
Some peace. The quiet forest. A project to throw myself into headfirst.
And maybe a hot, sweaty fling with my grouchy, soon-to-be-next-door neighbor.
He had no-strings-attached sex written all over his handsome face.
“Goddamn, son of a bitch, motherfucker!”
The hammer I’d just smashed into my knuckle fell out of my grip, dropping right onto my toe.
“Shit!” I chucked the chisel in my throbbing hand across the shop. It crashed into a stack of wooden dowels along the wall, rattling them before falling to the ground.
The noise outside was driving me insane, and I couldn’t fucking concentrate.
I’d been in the middle of carving a notch into a maple board. The table I’d designed used various notches and grooves to fit together. Not only because they were sturdy but because they lent detail to this particular piece’s unique design. It was like a puzzle and each piece had to be made with precision.
This particular board had ten notches. Right as I’d been about to finish the last, a loud crash had boomed outside and made me flinch. The hammer I’d just raised came down at the wrong angle, moving too fast. It hit the end of my chisel, sending it too deep into the wood before skidding off and bashing my thumb’s knuckle.
Not only did my hand hurt, now I’d have to remake this piece and the nine other notches I’d just spent an hour carving.
I was already behind on this project because my client had changed their mind on the type of wood three times. By the time they’d finally settled on maple, my supplier had been on back order. I was in a rush to finish this table by the deadline, and mistakes would only set me back further.
I’d been making stupid mistakes like this for a week, all because of the fucking noise.
All because of my fucking neighbor.
It had been a month since that woman had shown up on my doorstep. I’d spent two days after her arrival dreading the idea of company up here. I’d gotten used to living up here alone. Even before my former neighbors had passed, they hadn’t been here much. So when she’d stayed away for weeks, I’d figured she’d given up.
I’d relaxed, glad I wouldn’t have to share this mountainside.
Then a week ago, right as the May flowers had begun to bloom, an Airstream had backed into her driveway.
After that, a construction crew had arrived. They’d been making noise ever since, starting at dawn and ending after dark.
Another crash sounded outside, forcing me up from my stool.
“Fuck, I give up.” I’d have to come back late tonight and pray I could focus.
I bent and picked up the hammer by my boot, taking it to my workbench, where each tool had its rightful place on the plethora of hooks and shelves. I hung up the hammer, then went to retrieve the chisel. It got placed in a drawer, third spot from the left.
My tools were priceless. I treated them arguably better than I treated myself. But along with my hands, they kept me fed.
When I’d finished trade school, I’d made the decision to invest in the highest-quality tools on the market. Like a painter used brushes and oils to craft beauty, I used calipers and carvers. Planes and spokeshaves. Files and rasps. They were all top-of-the-line. And my power tools, the saws and shapers and presses, were worth more combined than my truck.
To use them all effectively, I had to concentrate. To concentrate, I required silence.
Three years ago, that construction crew could have made all the noise in the world and it wouldn’t have bothered me. Back then, my shop had been in the middle of an industrial park. Traffic would continuously whiz by. Visitors from nearby businesses would stop by to bullshit and drink my strong coffee. I used to work with rock and roll turned up to eleven.
That was before.
Now, the only sounds I allowed in my shop were those from my power tools. I tolerated the forest’s noise but would close the overhead door if the wind blew too loudly in the trees or the birds chirped obnoxiously.
I’d grown accustomed to quiet.
If they couldn’t keep it down next door, I was going to lose my goddamn mind.
Maybe I already had.
What the fuck was she doing over there anyway? She had five guys over there, destroying the place. She was living in an Ai
rstream with the generator kicking on and off at all hours. Was she trying to make my life a living hell?
Since work was out of the question, I shut off the lights to the shop and locked the door. No one ever came up here and I hadn’t locked up in ages. But that woman and her minions made me nervous, and I’d decided last week not to take the chance that my tools would find themselves in the bed of someone else’s truck.
Who knew what kind of people she’d hired? Or what kind of person she was? She obviously didn’t have any boundaries. She’d come marching over to my property without an invitation last month. Then when I’d sent her as clear a get fucking lost message as you could get, she’d shouted at me through the door I’d slammed in her face.
Who did that?
“I’m not crazy,” I muttered as I walked up the small path that led to my house. “She’s the crazy one.”
My neighbor. The thought irritated me to no end. I hadn’t bothered to get to know the previous owners. They’d been an older couple who’d come and gone for vacations, never once bothering to introduce themselves. Just how I liked it.
But then there was this one. What was her name?
Piper. Piper Campbell. God, even her name annoyed me.
Why? I wasn’t sure. Probably because of how quickly Piper had gotten under my skin.
I glanced down at my palm. The scab that had reminded me of her for a month was nearly gone now. The day she’d come over, I’d just sliced a gash in my hand.
I was peeling an apple that afternoon, trying to remove the skin in one long spiral. It was something my mom had always been able to do. I was half asleep from too little sleep for too many years, and after a long hike that morning, my muscles were weak. The knife slipped, cutting deep into the fleshy part of my palm.
After throwing the knife and the apple across the room, I scrambled for a rag. The cut bled like a bastard, and I was trying to staunch the flow when Piper knocked on my door.
One look at her and the pain in my hand vanished. Her chestnut hair was long and full, parted in a perfectly straight line down the middle. It hung past her shoulders in thick, silky strands. Her deep-set eyes were the color of my favorite dark-roast wood stain.