Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“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.
Chapter Two
Finn
The Devil’s Brew smells like sawdust and cheap whiskey, just the way I like it. The heavy oak beams overhead creak every now and then, a reminder of how old this place is—like everything else in Devil’s Peak.
I take a swig of beer and glare at the knot of my so-called friends sitting around the scarred wooden table. Barron, my best-friend from the military, is visiting from Copper Mountain. He’s a burly lumberjack with arms like tree trunks and when he laughs hard his massive shoulders shake. King, his cocky cowboy brother, grins like he’s waiting to add fuel to the fire. Liam leans back in his chair, boots propped up on the edge of the table, while Slate and Zane swap stories about the last brawl that almost got them banned from here.
Grady, my best friend in Devil’s Peak, is the only one pretending to listen to me with anything close to sympathy, though his smirk betrays him.
“So let me get this straight,” King drawls, tipping his hat back with one finger. “Your new neighbor is a curvy little nurse with a sassy mouth, and you’re mad about it?”
“I’m mad about her chickens,” I snap, slamming my bottle down harder than I mean to. The table shudders, and Barron’s beer sloshes over the edge of his pint.
“The chickens?” Barron chokes out between guffaws.
“Yes, the damn chickens,” I growl. “Every morning at the crack of dawn—squawking like the world’s ending. If I don’t strangle that rooster soon, I’ll lose my mind.”
Fox snorts, wiping at his mouth. “You’re already halfway there, old man.”
I shoot him a look that would make lesser men sweat, but Fox just leans forward, his grin widening. “Don’t think we didn’t notice the part you’re trying to gloss over.”
“What part?” I ask, though I already regret it.
“The part where she’s got you all twisted up,” Slate says, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on, Finn. You can’t fool us. You’re always grumpy, but this is a whole new level.”
“She complains about everything,” I bite out, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck. “Loud mining equipment, Shep digging up her flowerbeds—”
“Shep’s got good taste,” King interrupts, smirking. “You ever think he likes her because she’s, you know, not an insufferable hermit?”
The table erupts into laughter, and I glare at every last one of them. “She’s impossible,” I insist. “Always meddling, always judging people who actually work for a living.”
“Uh-huh,” Grady says, his voice dripping with skepticism. “And how much of your time at work is spent thinking about her?”
“I don’t—” I start, but Slate cuts me off with a low whistle.
“Busted,” he says, tipping his beer in my direction.
I groan, raking a hand through my hair. “You’re all idiots.”
“She’s got you whipped already,” Zane says, shaking his head. “Poor bastard doesn’t even know it.”
“She’s nothing but a nuisance,” I say, though the words feel hollow.
Grady raises a brow. “A nuisance you can’t stop staring at, apparently.”
“I’m not—” I start, but the image of Tessa flashes in my mind: the way her eyes light up when she’s furious, how her curves fill out those jeans she wears when she’s gardening. I shake my head and scowl.
“She’s… just my neighbor,” I mutter.
“Sure,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “And the sky’s pink.”
Barron leans forward, his grin downright wolfish. “Let me guess—she’s sweet. Curvy. Pretty. And she gives as good as she gets when you argue.”