Chapter 1

Chapter One

G rady

Bear’s paws click against the linoleum floor as we leave the vet’s office. He’s slower these days, his once-sleek black coat showing streaks of gray. I grip the bag of prescriptions in one hand and his leash in the other, my chest tightening as he stops to sniff a patch of grass just outside the door.

“C’mon, Bear,” I mutter. He looks up at me with those soulful eyes, and damn if it doesn’t feel like he understands every word I’m saying. “We’ve got a long day ahead.”

The vet’s words echo in my mind. A calmer routine will be good for him, Grady. Hell, Bear and I have spent years trekking through the woods, felling trees, and hauling logs. Asking him to slow down feels like cutting off his lifeline—and mine, too.

The bag rustles in my hand as I shove it into the truck’s glove box and then lift Bear into the truck. His movements are careful, calculated. Watching him hurts more than I’ll ever admit out loud. It’s been just the two of us since I came back to Devil’s Peak after my last deployment.

Lately, though, I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time for a change—for both of us.

The idea planted itself when Quinn, my sister, showed up on the mountain a few months ago to research the constellations around Devil’s Peak, and then answered a mail-order bride ad as part of a prank pulled by Ridge’s brother, Zane. I guess she couldn’t stand to stay with me and ole Bear more than a few weeks before being a mail-order bride sounded like a better deal–Ridge didn’t know Zane had taken out the ad on his behalf–not until my sister showed up on his doorstep with her suitcase and a smile. That woman has turned his world upside down since then, and now Ridge is happier than I’ve ever seen him. It’s been gnawing at me ever since. I can’t say I want what Ridge has exactly, but the thought of coming home to a quiet, steady presence—not a firecracker like my sister Quinn—doesn’t sound half bad.

I drive the few blocks to The Devil’s Brew, the local brewery, where Ridge and the rest of the guys are already waiting. The brewery’s neon sign buzzes faintly in the twilight, the scent of sawdust and hops wafting out when I push open the door. Ridge and Slate Warner, Liam, and Fox are at a booth, beers already in hand.

“Well, if it isn’t Grady Stevens,” Ridge drawls, his grin wide and wicked. “Finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

I grumble under my breath, sliding into the booth beside Liam. “Had to take Bear to the vet.”

“How’s the old boy?” Slate asks, his easy smile dimming just a touch.

“Slowing down,” I admit. “Got him on new meds, though.”

Liam raises his beer. “To Bear. The only soul who can stand this grouchy bastard.”

Fox chuckles. “Amen to that.”

I grunt, grabbing the beer Ridge slides across the table. The teasing is familiar, comfortable. These guys have been my family for years now, through deployments, losses, and more goodbyes than I care to count.

“You hear about the new teacher at the elementary school? Emma was talking about it last night–something about a city girl from Denver getting canned from her last teaching job for some rumor about–”

“Didn’t come here for the gossip,” Liam interrupts, then pulls on his IPA. Fox chuckles and nods in agreement.

“So, Grady,” Ridge starts, his tone far too casual. “You ever hear back from that ad you placed in Mountain Living Magazine ?”

The beer freezes halfway to my mouth. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Liam snorts. “Don’t play dumb, Grady. We all know about the ‘practical wife’ ad. ‘Hardworking, no-nonsense, and okay with living in the woods.’ Real romantic.”

I set my beer down with more force than necessary. “It’s practical. Not everything has to be about romance.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ridge says, his grin widening. “Except the part where you’re hoping she’ll fall in love with you over chopping firewood and feeding Bear.”

“She’s not falling in love with anyone,” I snap. “It’s not that kind of arrangement.”

Slate raises an eyebrow. “So you’re just gonna bring some poor woman out here, plop her in your cabin, and expect her to be happy without so much as a damn spark?”

“Exactly.” My tone leaves no room for argument.

Ridge whistles low. “You really are a cold-hearted bastard.” His eyes brim with amusement as he says the next part: “Hey, you got no judgement from me. The day Quinn showed up on my doorstep changed my life–she’s made me the happiest man on this damn mountain. We both want the same for you, bro.”

“Whatever,” I mutter, draining my beer. “Not all of us are looking for a fairy tale.”

The guys exchange looks but let it drop. I glance at my watch, eager to leave before they can dig deeper. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with whoever answered the ad. No need to have them ruin that, too.

Bear’s leash tightens in my hand as we step out of The Devil’s Brew. The late afternoon sun stretches long shadows over the quiet streets of town. The scent of pine and snow lingers in the crisp air, a reminder that winter is settling in for the long haul. I glance down at Bear, his tail wagging like he’s got somewhere important to be.

“Settle down, old man,” I mutter. “We’re going home.”

He gives me a look, his ears twitching as if to say not yet.

We head down the sidewalk, the rhythmic thump of my boots echoing in the stillness. My mind drifts, the conversation with Ridge, Fox, and Liam replaying in my head. Their teasing about the mail-order bride ad doesn’t bother me—not really. I’m used to their ribbing. It’s the uncertainty gnawing at me. Tomorrow, my so-called bride shows up, and I don’t know what the hell to expect.

“Practical,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than Bear. “That’s all this is.”

Bear suddenly freezes, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air. His whole body tenses before he bolts forward, nearly yanking the leash from my grip.

“Damn it, Bear!” I shout, stumbling to keep up as he drags me toward the scent that’s caught his attention.

We round the corner, and that’s when I see her.

She’s standing outside The Whistling Pines Bakery, a box of cookies balanced on one arm as she digs through her purse. Her blonde hair catches the sunlight, glowing like a damn halo, and her smile when she sees my old sheepdog lumbering over— warm, easy—makes the tension in my chest loosen for the first time in months.

Bear has no such appreciation for subtlety. He barrels toward her, tail wagging like mad, and before I can stop him, he jumps, sending the box of cookies flying.

“Oh!” she yelps, stumbling back as a flurry of cookies scatters across the sidewalk.

“Shit,” I growl, jogging over. “Bear, sit!”

To my surprise, she laughs, the sound light and genuine as she crouches to pick up the mess. “Well, someone’s got a sweet tooth.”

Bear wags his bushy, black tail furiously, his guilty face buried in what’s left of a sugar cookie. I yank him back, muttering curses under my breath.

“I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “He’s not usually this...enthusiastic. He’s got a thing for the puppy cookies Ellie makes,” I mention the owner of the bakery, “she uses real bacon in them–he goes nuts for them.”

She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s fine. He’s adorable. I can’t be mad at that face.”

She stands, brushing crumbs off her coat, and I get a better look at her. Curves in all the right places, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and a smile that’s too damn genuine for someone who just had their cookies ruined by a rogue dog.

“These were for your kids, weren’t they?” I ask, noticing the box says Ms. Gerard’s First Grade Class.

She nods, her smile never wavering. “First day of school tomorrow. I thought cookies would be a nice icebreaker. But I think your dog had other plans.”

Bear whines, wagging his tail like he’s proud of himself.

“I’ll replace them,” I say quickly, not sure why I feel so desperate to fix this. “I can?—”

“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupts, her smile softening. “I can get more. And it’s nice to meet a friendly face—and a friendly dog—in a new town.”

“New in town?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just moved here last week. Needed a fresh start.”

Something about the way she says it makes me pause. There’s a quiet weight behind her words, like there’s a story she’s not ready to share.

“I’m Sarah,” she says, extending a hand.

“Grady,” I reply, taking her hand in mine. Her grip is firm but warm, and I can’t help noticing how small her hand feels in mine.

“And this troublemaker?” she asks, scratching behind Bear’s ears.

“Bear,” I say, my voice softening. “He’s usually better behaved, I swear.”

Her laugh bubbles up again, and damn if it doesn’t hit me like a punch to the gut. It’s been years since I’ve felt this kind of pull—this spark—and it scares the hell out of me.

“Well, Grady and Bear,” she says, stepping back. “It was nice meeting you. Try to keep this guy out of trouble.”

“I’ll do my best,” I mutter, watching as she turns and heads back into the bakery. Bear whines, his eyes following her until the door closes behind her.

For a moment, I stand there, staring after her like a damn fool. Then I shake my head, tugging Bear’s leash. “Come on,” I mutter. “We’ve got stuff to do.”

But as we walk away, I can’t stop replaying the sound of her laugh or the way her smile lit up the sidewalk.

Later, as I sit by the fire with a beer in hand, I still can’t shake the memory of Sarah. I stare into the flames, my thoughts tangled and restless.

She was sunshine. Sweet and warm in a way that felt too good to be real. And for a moment, I let myself wonder...what if? What if someone like her could settle for someone like me?

But the thought is gone as quickly as it came. Tomorrow, my bride arrives, and Sarah? She’s the kind of woman who deserves better than a grumpy lumberjack with a past he doesn’t like to talk about.

I take a long swig of beer, the bitterness grounding me.

Focus, Grady.

This isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And what I need is someone practical, steady. Someone who doesn’t make me feel like my world’s tilting off its axis with one damn smile.

But as I glance down at Bear, curled up by the fire, I can’t help but think of Sarah’s laugh and the way she scratched behind his ears like he was her own.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel the ache of something I thought I’d buried long ago. Something I don’t dare name.