Chapter 1

Chapter One

T essa

The sound hits me like a thunderclap. Metallic clanging, the rumble of a motor sputtering to life, and a low, gravelly curse that slices through the crisp morning air. My fingers freeze around the trowel I’m using to repot a fern, and I glare at the cabin next door, my peace and quiet obliterated for the third time this week.

“Are you kidding me?” I mutter, wiping my dirt-smudged hands on my jeans. This was supposed to be my fresh start—six months of tranquility, surrounded by the serenity of Devil’s Peak. Instead, I’ve landed next to Finn Taylor, the loudest man in existence, with his incessant mining equipment and that obnoxiously adorable dog of his.

I shove my trowel into the soil with more force than necessary and march toward the noise. Shep, his overgrown Australian Shepherd-Saint Bernard mix, bounds into my yard like he’s been waiting for me. His tail wags furiously, scattering loose dirt from my flowerbeds. I crouch down despite myself, scratching behind his floppy ears as he presses his massive head into my hands.

“Shep, you’re lucky you’re cute,” I mutter. He licks my cheek in response, his enthusiasm impossible to resist.

The clanging grows louder, followed by another low curse. I straighten, my annoyance rekindled as I head toward the source of my frustration.

Finn is shirtless, of course, because why wouldn’t he be? His broad, muscled back gleams with sweat as he leans over a hunk of machinery, wielding a wrench like it’s an extension of his arm. The sight is... distracting. Not that I’ll admit that out loud.

“Finn!” I call, stepping closer. He doesn’t hear me—or pretends not to—so I raise my voice. “Hey, mountain man!”

He finally turns, straightening to his full, towering height. His dark eyes lock onto mine, and his scowl deepens. “What do you want, Nurse Sunshine?”

I bristle at the nickname. “For you to stop ruining my mornings with all this noise! Some of us like a little peace and quiet, you know.”

Finn crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing in a way that’s almost mocking. “Peace and quiet, huh? Tell that to your damn rooster. That thing starts crowing before the sun’s even up.”

“That’s nature, not machinery!” I snap back. “And at least my rooster doesn’t smell like diesel fumes and wake the dead.”

He smirks, slow and infuriatingly smug. “You sure about that? Pretty sure I heard that thing in my nightmares last night.”

Shep trots up to Finn, tail wagging, clearly unbothered by the tension. Finn scratches behind his ears absently, his gaze still pinned on me. “Anyway, it’s not my fault you picked a cabin next to a miner.”

“I didn’t pick this cabin because of you,” I fire back. “And for the record, I didn’t realize it came with a neighbor who treats noise ordinances like a joke.”

Finn takes a slow step closer, his presence as overwhelming as the mountain itself. “You know, for someone who claims to like peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

I refuse to back down, even as my pulse betrays me with its quickened beat. “Maybe if you weren’t so loud, I wouldn’t have to.”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a rumble that makes my breath hitch. “You’re feisty, I’ll give you that. But maybe you should stop worrying about what I’m doing and focus on keeping your destroyed flowerbeds alive.”

I gape at him. “Excuse me? Your dog is the one who’s been digging them up!”

“Shep?” Finn looks down at the dog, who wags his tail innocently. “He’d never. Right, buddy?”

Shep barks, and I swear it’s in agreement with Finn. I throw up my hands, exasperated. “Unbelievable. You’re both impossible.”

Finn’s smirk deepens, and something about the glint in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying this far too much. “Welcome to Devil’s Peak, sweetheart.”

I stomp back toward my cabin, Shep trailing after me. When I glance back, Finn is still watching me, his expression unreadable. My stomach does a little flip, and I curse under my breath.

Inside my cabin, I try to distract myself with cleaning. It’s a futile effort, though, because my thoughts keep drifting back to Finn. It’s not just his grumpiness that gets under my skin—it’s the way he looks at me, like he sees straight through my defenses. Like he knows exactly how to rile me up and can’t resist doing it.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This wasn’t how I pictured my new life here. I’d hoped for quiet days filled with gardening and evenings curled up with a book. Instead, I’ve got a noisy neighbor with a devil-may-care attitude and a dog who’s charmed his way into my heart despite my best efforts.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I open it to find Shep sitting on the porch, a mangled flower in his mouth. Finn stands behind him, holding a wrench in one hand and a sheepish expression in the other.

“Shep wanted to apologize,” Finn says, his tone somewhere between serious and sarcastic.

I cross my arms, arching a brow. “Shep, huh? And what about you?”

Finn scratches the back of his neck, looking almost... nervous? “Figured I’d fix the squeaky hinge on your front gate. Consider it a peace offering.”

My resolve wavers. He’s infuriating, sure, but there’s something about the way he’s standing there—half grumpy, half sincere—that makes me soften. Just a little.

“Fine,” I say, stepping aside to let him in. “But only because Shep’s adorable.”

Finn chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that does things to my insides I’d rather not dwell on. He sets to work on the gate, and I watch from the porch, torn between annoyance and something I can’t quite name.

“By the way,” he says, not looking up from his task, “your rooster crowed at 4:30 this morning.”

“Maybe he was trying to wake you up so you could stop being a grump,” I retort. “Early bird catches the worm and all that.”

Finn smirks, and for a moment, I forget why I was ever mad at him. It’s infuriating and magnetic all at once.

Later that evening, I’m back in my garden, replanting the flowers Shep dug up. The sun sets behind the mountains, casting a golden glow over everything. I hear Finn’s voice, low and steady, as he talks to Shep. The sound carries on the breeze, and despite myself, I smile.

Maybe, just maybe, Devil’s Peak won’t be so bad after all.