Mountain Sins

Mountain Sins features possessive men who don’t take no for an answer. They’re morally gray alphas with hearts of gold but are willing to do whatever it takes to claim their woman.

Please Note: Some titles in the series explore darker, more intense themes. Please see content warnings for more details.

Each novella is a standalone and can be read in any order.

BUY THE BOOK:

“If you like your love stories intense, gritty, and emotionally charged—with characters who grow, challenge, and ultimately heal each other—Bound in the Mountains will leave a mark on you. It did on me.”

— Amazon reviewer


"For such a short read, it was packed with excitement. The spice was oh, so good. I didn’t want it to end."

— Amazon reviewer

  • He came to collect a debt—but took her instead.

    Shyanne

    Brody came to collect what was owed by my brother—but took me instead. Every second with him is a battle between fear and desire. He’s dangerous, unrelenting, and terrifyingly magnetic. I don’t know how to trust him, and yet, my body betrays me at every glance, every touch. I don’t know if I’m falling for the man, the monster, or both. I can’t deny the pull he has over me, and ‌part of me…hopes he never lets go.

    Brody

    I came to settle a debt with her brother, but I found something I never expected—her. Shyanne is fire and defiance, everything I’ve ever wanted in one fierce, stubborn woman. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her, to make her mine. Even if it means exposing the man behind the monster.

  • instalove, age gap, mountain man, forced proximity, obsessed alpha, morally gray, sassy heroine, virgin, hurt/comfort, HEA

  • Please Note: Bound in the Mountains is slightly darker and more intense than my other mountain man books. The hero is unapologetically possessive and at times you may disagree with his actions. However, his motives are pure and beneath it all lies a heart of gold. I promise if you give Brody a chance, he won’t let you down in the end.

    This novella contains: explicit sexual content, profanity, captor/ captive, power imbalance, light coercion and dubcon, forced proximity under duress, reference to drug addiction and alcoholism, childhood trauma and abuse (off the page)

  • Brody

    “I gave you two months, Josh.”

    I drag out a chair and sit across from the man who still hasn’t paid what he owes me. Five grand in gambling debt—and not a single cent to show for it.

    “I want my money.”

    “Listen, Brody… man. I still don’t have it. If you could just give me, like, a few more—”

    I raise my hand—sharp, silent—cutting him off mid-stammer. He knows better than to keep talking.

    Leaning back, slow and deliberate, I lace my fingers behind my head like I’ve got nowhere else to be. Let him squirm.

    I take a slow look around the kitchen of Josh’s double-wide. It’s a goddamn disaster—sink full of crusted dishes, beer bottles scattered across the counters, trash spilling over onto the floor.

    The air reeks of stale beer, rotting food, and something sour beneath it all.

    Fucking disgusting.

    I narrow my gaze at Josh again.

    “You must not have taken me seriously when I told you what would happen if you didn’t pay me,” I say, voice low.

    Josh stares back at me, hesitant, weighing whether to speak or keep quiet.

    “Speak,” I grunt.

    “I heard you, Brody. Loud and clear.” He swallows hard. “I was down in Brightwood this past weekend—at the Lone Coyote. Had a real lucky night Friday, but things went sideways fast. Made a few bad calls… lost everything by the end.”
    His eyes flicker with panic, voice speeding up like he’s trying to outrun the consequences.
    “But listen—I can get your money back, I swear. I just need a little more time.”

    He watches me, desperate, like the right words might save him.

    A sudden knock echoes from the front door.

    I don’t move. Just flick my eyes toward Josh.

    “Expecting company?”

    He shifts in his seat. “M-my sister, Shyanne.”

    I nod toward the door. “Better not keep her fucking waiting, then.”

    Josh jumps from his seat and hurries to the front door, yanking it open and planting himself in the frame like a human barricade.

    “Listen, Shy, now’s not a good time—”

    “What’s the matter with you?” she snaps. “I told you this morning I was coming by after work. I brought you real food, not that microwave shit you live on.”

    Then I see her—the woman with the voice like warm whiskey. She barrels right past her brother, arms loaded with grocery bags, apparently unfazed by the tension in the room.

    She stops cold though, when she sees me sitting at the kitchen table. Her wide green eyes dart between me and her brother, suddenly reading the danger in the air.

    She drops the grocery bags onto the counter with a heavy thud, then whirls on her brother, eyes narrowing with frustration.

    “What did you do, Josh?”

    “It’s nothing, sis.” Josh forces a weak smile. “I appreciate you coming by, but… you really need to go. Now.”

    “I’m not leaving until someone tells me what the hell this is,” she snaps, voice sharp with defiance.

    Then she turns to me—and fuck, if my heart doesn’t forget how to beat.
    That look in her eyes. The flush in her cheeks. Full breasts straining against her thin t-shirt. The delicious curve of her hips as she squares off with me. Breathtaking.

    “What do you want with my brother?” she demands.

    I clear my throat.

    “Sit.”

    I nod toward the open chair across from me, my tone leaving no room for argument.

    She sinks into the chair, spine stiff, hands clasped tight in her lap, eyes shooting daggers across the table like she’s ready to cut me down where I sit.

    “Well?” she huffs.

    I let my gaze linger on her, voice low and measured.
    “Tell me, Shyanne… how have we never met before? Town this small—it’s damn near impossible, I’d imagine.”

    She blinks, caught off guard by the shift. Then, a faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

    “Tell me what you want with my brother… and I’ll tell you.”

    “Sassy thing, aren’t you?” I laugh, running a hand over my beard. “Alright. Your brother owes me five grand. I’m here to collect.”

    Shyanne shoots a sharp look at her brother, shock breaking across her face.
    “You’re still gambling?” She says, voice tight with disbelief. “I thought we were past this, Josh.”

    The hurt spreads through her expression like wildfire—pure, raw. You can see it clear as day—she loves him. She worries about him.

    “Now answer my question,” I demand, bringing her attention back to me.

    “I moved to Brightwood last year. I’m a sophomore at BU now. I’m just here for the summer, and working part-time at the Quik2Go.” She glances at her brother, guilt flickering across her face. “And apparently doing a lousy job of keeping him out of trouble.”

    Josh rolls his eyes and cracks his knuckles nervously.

    It all clicks into place.

    Jesus—she can’t be more than nineteen.

    No wonder I never noticed her before… she wasn’t exactly legal.

    But now, Shyanne is a grown woman in front of me—strong, brave, and defiant all at once. In my thirty-eight years on this earth, I’ve never met a woman who makes me feel like this. My veins feel like they’re on fire, flooded with life, need, and raw desperation to have her. Own her.

    “And why is it your job to keep your brother out of trouble?” I ask.

    “It’s not,” Josh cuts in, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.

    I shoot him a glare. “I asked your sister.” Then I lock eyes with Shyanne.

    “Just… the way it’s always been,” she says quietly. “Since our dad got locked up. And Mom…” Her voice falters. “She passed two years ago. Drug overdose.”

    Her gaze shifts to her brother, guilt flickering again. “I should’ve stayed here with you, Josh, instead of moving into Aunt Lilah’s house for the summer. I just… I hate this place.”

    She glances around the double-wide, sadness pulling at her features.

    Suddenly, her expression shifts—braver than before—and she turns her full attention to me.

    “Tell me your name,” she says.

    “Brody Callahan.”

    “Shit,” she mutters under her breath.

    I chuckle. “Something wrong?”

    “Figures,” she says, eyes narrowing. “I know exactly who you are. I’ve heard what people say about you in town.”

    “And what have you heard?”

    “You’re a cold, sadistic prick.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “And the people around you get hurt.”

    Josh rushes to his sister’s side, a hand landing on her shoulder.
    “Shyanne, stop. Brody… man, she doesn’t know what she’s—”

    She swats his hand away and springs up from the chair.
    “Don’t you dare, Josh. I know exactly what I’m saying. This is all your damn fault anyway, so don’t you start with me.”

    I watch her hands curl into fists at her sides.

    Most people know better than to talk to me like this.

    But her? She throws the truth at me like it's nothing, and I’m not used to that. Not from anyone.

    Especially not from a woman like her.

    “I’ll give you the money. Just give me a few days to get it from the bank,” she says.

    Before I can respond, Josh blurts out, “Really, Shy? You’d help me out? I promise I’ll pay you back.”
    He steps forward to hug her, but she shifts out of reach.

    “This is the last time, Josh. I can’t keep doing this.”
    Her gaze snaps back to me.
    “So… do we have a deal?”

    I rise from my chair and close the distance between us.
    Josh retreats until his back hits the kitchen counter, but Shyanne—God, she holds her ground. And I swear my cock stirs against my zipper.

    “No,” I answer. “We don’t have a deal.”

    My gaze slides to Josh over her shoulder. “What kind of man lets his little sister settle his debt?”

    Then I reach out, brush my thumb along her jaw, and she doesn’t flinch.

    Fuck me.

    “You think this is about the money?” My voice drops into a growl. “I could burn ten grand and never feel it. This is about principle, sweetheart.”

    I brush her hair over her shoulder, letting my fingers trail, lingering against the soft line of her collarbone.

    “I won’t take your money,” I murmur. “But you… you feel like payment.”

BUY THE BOOK:

"Grace’s story spoke to a very specific part of me—the one that still wants to run into the woods, prove everyone wrong, and fall into the arms of a gruff stranger who sees me when no one else ever has."

— Amazon reviewer


"This is a story about reclaiming your identity, chasing peace, and surrendering to a connection that feels written in the stars."

— Amazon reviewer

  • She stumbled into his world during a storm. Now he’ll never let her go.

    Grace

    I came to the mountains to prove I wasn’t weak.
To find a sliver of independence after a lifetime of being told I wasn’t enough. Everyone wanted me to be something I’m not.
Smarter. Tougher. More like my sister. But all I wanted was to breathe. Then the storm hit.
And I ran into the arms of a man who shouldn’t exist.
Huge. Scarred. Silent. Savage. He cages me with his stare, breaks me open with his touch, and ruins me with the things he whispers in the dark. He says I’m his now. And the terrifying part? I think I want to be.

    Eric

    I’ve lived alone in these mountains for years.
Too damaged for the world. Too dangerous beyond solitude. But then she showed up.
Soaked from the rain. Soft as sin. Looking at me like I wasn’t a monster. She doesn’t belong here.
And I don’t deserve her. But I’m not letting her leave.
I don’t care if she thinks it’s too fast.
I don’t care if she’s scared. Because I know what she needs…and it’s me.

  • instalove, age gap, mountain man, forced proximity, obsessed alpha, ex-military, curvy heroine, virgin, hurt/comfort, HEA

  • explicit sexual content, profanity, captivity for safety, isolation, power imbalance

  • Grace

    I shouldn’t have come here alone.

    Not because it’s dangerous—not really—but because now I can’t pretend anymore. The woods are too quiet to lie to myself.

    I tug the zipper of my sleeping bag up to my chin and lie still, staring at the curved ceiling of my tent. It shudders every few seconds, the nylon sides twitching with each gust of wind. The forest groans around me, all creaking branches and shifting shadows, like the trees themselves are fucking watching.

    This was supposed to be empowering. Brave. Something to shove in my mother’s face the next time she calls me fragile or tells me I’ll never make it on my own if I don’t toughen up.

    You should be more like your sister.

    She always says, her voice clipped and polished like the heels she wears to court. 

    Hannah would never waste her time with silly books and daydreaming in the clouds.

    Yeah, well, Hannah also wouldn't cry herself to sleep night after night. She wouldn’t fantasize about a cabin in the woods and a man with rough hands who wants nothing more than to keep her safe and make her pregnant.

    God. I’m thinking about it all over again.

    I roll onto my side and squeeze my thighs together. It’s not even a real fantasy—it’s something I half-read in a steamy novel, something that made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t explain. I want someone who sees me. Who claims me. Not because I’m impressive or successful or perfect—but because I’m his.

    Pathetic.

    I reach for my flashlight, flick it on, and scan the inside of the tent. Books stacked neatly in the corner. My journal. It’s only night two and already I’m restless. I hiked four miles from the dirt road and set up my camp near the edge of the mountain, close enough to the river to hear it at night. I wanted peace. Space. Proof I can survive without anyone.

    So why do I feel like I’m not alone?

    The wind shifts, and I freeze. There it is again. The snap of a branch. The whisper of movement just outside the tent. Not an animal. Too slow. Too careful. But unmistakably predatory.

    My heart kicks up in my chest. I flick off the flashlight and hold my breath.

    Nothing.

    The silence swells around me, pressing against the thin walls of the tent like it wants in. I pull the sleeping bag tighter, my pulse roaring in my ears. I’m being fucking ridiculous. No one’s out here. That was just a deer. A raccoon, maybe.

    Still… I feel watched.

    And not in the scary movie, serial killer kind of way. It's worse than that. Slower. More deliberate. Like someone has all the time in the world to wait me out.

    I sit up fast, unzip the flap of the tent, and peek out.

    Pitch black.

    Clouds cover the stars, thick and heavy. Thunder rolls low and far away, distant enough that I could probably pretend I didn’t hear it. But the air feels damp. A storm is coming.

    “Just great.” I sigh and zip the tent closed again.

    Another crack in the woods, this time to the left.

    Okay. Screw this.

    I yank on my hoodie, pull on my boots, and grab my flashlight. I tell myself it’s just to check the perimeter. Just to ease the paranoia.

    But the second I step outside, the air hits me like a slap—wet, sharp, and way too cold for early summer. My breath fogs in front of me. The trees loom overhead like they’re leaning in to watch me closely.

    I shine the flashlight around the small clearing.

    Nothing.

    No eyes. No shadows. No people.

    But that doesn’t mean it's… nothing.

    I wrap my arms around myself and slowly circle the tent. My mind plays tricks on me—was that a boot print in the dirt? Is it mine? I can’t tell anymore. I’m too deep in my own head.

    And then the sky opens up.

    Rain slams down like a flipped switch. The wind howls, snapping my tent to one side, yanking a corner of the tarp loose. I lunge to grab it, but the flashlight slips from my hand and bounces away.

    Thunder cracks, so loud it shakes the ground.

    I don't even scream—I just dash into my tent, grab my shit and run.

    I don't think. I don’t stop to pick a direction. I just run. Straight into the trees.

    The rain blinds me. Mud sucks at my boots, and branches whip at my arms and face. I skid down a slope I can’t see, my ankle twisting painfully before I crash to my knees. I don’t even feel it.

    All I can feel is the panic in my chest, like something is chasing me. Like I’ve already been caught and just haven’t realized it yet.

    Then, through the darkness, a shape emerges.

    A cabin.

    A real one. Not my mind playing nasty tricks on me.

    It’s sturdy, with smoke curling faintly from the chimney and golden light glowing in the window. It's tucked deep in the trees, like it grew from the earth instead of being built.

    I don’t hesitate.

    I stumble up the steps, soaking and shivering, and pound on the door.

    No answer.

    I try the knob. It turns.

    Inside is dim, warm, and heavy with the scent of smoke. The fire crackles in the stone hearth. A soft throw blanket lies tossed across a tattered couch. A stack of logs waits near the wall, neat and precise.

    Someone lives here.

    But they’re not here right now.

    I slam the door shut behind me and sink to the floor, trembling.

    “I’m not weak,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my knees. “I’m not fucking weak.”

    But the cabin says otherwise. This doesn’t feel like freedom.

    It feels like I just stepped into another cage.

BUY THE BOOK:

“I adored this book, Raider is over the top at times, but it makes him so lovable.”

— Amazon reviewer

"If you're into gruff mountain men with hearts of gold, emotional healing, and love that feels like both lightning and safety."

— Amazon reviewer

  • Some bonds break you before they make you whole.

    Ainsley

    I’m on the trip my brother promised we’d take, the one he never got to make. But when my tire goes flat, I’m not prepared for what—or who—shows up. Raider. Dark, dangerous, and everything I didn’t know I needed, steps into my life like a storm. He doesn’t ask me to forget the past. He just wants me to stay. And even though I’m terrified, for the first time in a long time…I don’t have to be strong.

    Raider

    I’m a broken man, an ex-soldier hollowed out by years of past and pain. When I see her on the roadside, fierce and fragile all at once, something in me snaps awake. I do what I have to—trap her, keep her, hold her—because letting her go isn’t an option. But she’s already halfway gone, chasing a ghost. I can’t fix what’s broken, but I won’t stop trying to hold on to whatever’s left of her.

  • instalove, age gap, mountain man, forced proximity, obsessed alpha, morally gray, ex-military, biker, curvy heroine, virgin, hurt/comfort, HEA

  • explicit sexual content, profanity, power imbalance, manipulation and control, emotional trauma, survivor’s guilt, grief related to the death of a sibling (on the page), fatal car accident (off the page)

  • Ainsley

    The road winds like a ribbon of shadow through the trees, endless and empty, and for the first time in hours, I exhale.

    Just me and the vast mountains.

    No texts. No questions. No carefully arranged smiles or plates of untouched food. 

    No—you should be home for this—or—he’d want us to be together. 

    No grief disguised as politeness and passed around like a goddamn casserole dish.

    Just asphalt, pine trees, and the sound of my brother’s voice echoing in my head.

    The Grand Canyon, Ains. One day we’re doing it. You and me. Just pack the truck and go.

    I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. My knuckles are white. My heart’s still trapped in that house—a thousand miles behind me. In his bedroom. In all the things I haven’t touched in a year.

    It’s been exactly three-hundred-sixty-five days.

    One year ago, a drunk driver ran a red light and tore Adam’s truck in half. 

    I was there. The passenger side. I walked away. He didn’t.

    They told me it was a miracle.

    It didn’t fucking feel like one.

    A slow breath fills my lungs. I roll the window down and let the air sting my skin, cold and sharp and real. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear him again, laughing. He always said I drove too tense. Loosen up, baby sis. Let the car move with you. She’s not out to get you.

    I force myself to unclench my shoulders and lean back, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in time with the music playing low through the speakers. He’d hate this playlist. Adam used to say emo music felt like being trapped in an elevator with someone else’s emotional breakdown on a loop.

    The corners of my mouth twitch, but it doesn’t quite become a smile.

    I pull the sleeves of my brother’s old university hoodie down over my hands as I drive, the fabric worn soft from years of use. Without thinking, I press my nose to the collar and breathe in. The scent—laundry soap, and that familiar cologne—hits me like a punch, twisting something deep inside. It makes my heart ache in a way only he ever could.

    If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend he’s still here.

    Almost.

    A sign blurs past. Grand Canyon—112 miles.

    I whisper, “Almost there, Adam.”

    And then everything lurches.

    The car dips hard to the right. There's a sickening thump-thump-thump of rubber slapping pavement, the entire frame jerking like it’s trying to buck me off. I grip the wheel tight, heart punching my ribs, and steer the car onto the narrow shoulder before the whole damn car tips into a shallow ditch.

    “Shit—shit—”

    The car shudders, then stops.

    I sit there for a full beat, chest heaving, staring straight ahead like maybe the world will reset if I don’t move. 

    Birds chirp. Trees sway. Somewhere, a hidden creek babbles like it’s laughing at me.

    Of course.

    Of course, the tire blows now, in the middle of nowhere, an hour from anything, on a trip I probably shouldn’t even be taking alone. But Adam taught me better than to sit and cry about it.

    So I don’t.

    I throw the gear into park and climb out. The wind hits me hard—sharp and biting, like the temperature just remembered it’s in the mountains. I walk around to the passenger side. Sure enough, the front tire is fucking toast. Shredded like something clawed through it.

    I crouch to check the sidewall. Then the tread.

    No puncture. Just worn down to hell. The kind of wear I should’ve noticed.

    “Nice job, genius,” I mutter under my breath. “Adam would be so proud.”

    He would, though. Even now. He’d just raise a brow and say, That’s why you carry a spare, sis.

    I pop the trunk and start pulling out the tools—jack, wrench, and the full-sized spare Adam swore I’d thank him for someday, instead of a shitty donut. 

    I don’t even think about calling anyone. No reception out here. It was spotty an hour ago, and now I’m lucky if my phone’s not just a very expensive paperweight.

    I start working immediately. My fingers are already going numb, and I’m kneeling on gravel, but it doesn’t matter. The motion is automatic, comforting in a strange way. 

    Adam drilled it into me, No sister of mine is gonna wait around for someone to save her. You save yourself first.

    So I do.

    Or I try.

    The bolts are stuck. Like welded-by-the-fucking-devil stuck.

    I grunt, throw my weight into the lug wrench, and feel it give a millimeter—then nothing. Again. Again. I hiss through my teeth as my palm splits open just a little, stinging in the cold air.

    “Fuck.”

    I sit back on my heels and press my bleeding hand to my jeans. I’m not crying. Not from the pain. Not from the frustration.

    But suddenly I’m just so tired.

    Tired of being the strong one. The one who’s okay. 

    The one who smiles and says, I just need some air, when what she really means is, I don’t know how to breathe without him.

    The trees rustle behind me like they’re whispering secrets. The sun is starting to dip behind the mountains, throwing everything into that golden, dusky haze where things start to feel less real.

    I close my eyes.

    And pretend Adam is still here with me.

    Just for a moment.

    Just long enough to feel like I’m not entirely alone in this world.

BUY THE BOOK:

“It’s obsessive, it’s dangerous, and it’s intoxicating.”

— Amazon reviewer

“This is a story where passion tramples rules, where love is fierce enough to take risks, and where two broken people find something whole in each other.”

— Amazon reviewer

  • He told her he’d ruin her. Then he made sure no one else ever could.

    Bailey

    He’s my stepbrother. And yet, I can’t resist him. He’s burned through my walls, stripped away my fears, and left me craving every inch of him. Falling for him is reckless, forbidden… but maybe the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Because with Cash, giving him my heart might be the most dangerous choice I’ll ever make, and yet, it might just be worth the risk.

    Cash

    She’s off-limits and the only woman I’ve ever wanted. She sees right through me and makes me a better man. So I don’t care about the rules. I promised I’d ruin her… and I meant it. I’ll take her first, her only, leaving no doubt that no other man could ever have her. Every touch, every whisper, every stolen moment blurs the line between right and wrong, and I don’t care which side we fall on… as long as it’s with her.

  • instalove, mountain man, stepbrother, forbidden, forced proximity, shy virgin heroine, hurt/comfort, HEA

  • explicit sexual content, profanity, stepbrother (pseudo-incest), divorce and parental abandonment

  • Bailey

    “Sweetie, you’re going to fall in love with it too. I promise.”

    I roll my eyes at my mom, hefting my suitcase into the backseat with a thud.

    “I still can’t believe you’re moving to the mountains. My mother, of all people.”

    “Hawthorne is a beautiful town,” she says, all dreamy and defensive.

    “So it has nothing to do with the mysterious mountain man you just married?” I laugh.

    Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes at me, that knowing look tugging at the corner of her mouth.

    My mother—of all people—deserves happiness. After my father walked out on us when I was three, leaving her a single mom overnight, she carried the weight of our world on her shoulders without ever letting it crush her. Two jobs, night classes for her degree, still somehow making time for bedtime stories and those warm, sleepy snuggles that made me feel safe.

    That’s why her call last month blindsided me. Out of nowhere, she announced she’d gotten married—married—after a single weekend away for a work retreat. My sophisticated, fiercely independent mother had fallen for Travis, a brooding, broad-shouldered lumberjack from some tiny mountain town. And yet…I’ve never seen her look as radiant as she does now.

    So, we’re headed there today so she can begin her life with Travis in his secluded cabin in the woods.

    “I’m so happy you’re spending the summer with us before you head off to college. I still can’t believe it. My baby girl, all grown up.” She hauls me into a hug so tight my ribs protest.

    “I’m not going anywhere—if you don’t stop crushingme,” I gasp, half laughing, half wheezing.

    She releases me with a reluctant smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like she’s been doing since I was little.
    “I’m going to miss you, Bailey. So much. It’s always been you and me, kiddo, and now everything’s changing. But…I’m so excited for this next chapter.”

    “Me too, Mom.”

    She pulls me into a one-armed hug and presses a kiss to my cheek, the familiar scent of her perfume wrapping around me. We both turn for one last look at the house she raised me in. The place that held eighteen years of our life within its walls.

    The future feels wide-open and uncertain, but there’s a pull in my chest—a quiet knowing—that this will be a summer I’ll never forget.

    ***

    Two hours—and two very stiff legs—later, we finally roll up to Travis’s cabin.

    It’s exactly what you’d imagine. Rustic and charming, with a wide wraparound porch hugging its frame, and thick forest in every direction. My mom was right, it’s absolutely beautiful here.

    I step out of the car, stretching until my spine pops, and she follows suit.

    Then, the front door swings open.

    A man steps out, and I know instantly this has to be Travis. My mother wasn’t exaggerating. He’s built like a damn tank, broad shoulders filling the doorway as if the cabin itself has to make room for him.

    Before I can say anything, she’s running toward him. He comes down the steps in long, sure strides, and she leaps straight into his arms like a scene from a movie.

    He kisses her deeply, and when they finally pull apart—breathless—the way they look at each other like no one else exists steals the air from my lungs.

    For a moment, I wonder if this is what true love really looks like… and I pray it lasts. My mother doesn’t deserve another heartbreak, not after what my father did to us.

    But even as I watch them, so obviously wrapped up in each other, I can’t quite believe in it. If love like that were real, my dad wouldn’t have walked away. Right.

    My mother finally turns back to me with a laugh, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh! Travis, this is my lovely daughter, Bailey.”

    He steps forward and extends his hand—massive, warm, and steady when I take it.

    “Bailey, I’m happy to finally meet you,” he says, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “From the way Cheryl talks about you, I feel like I practically know you already.”

    “It’s nice to finally meet you too. And I could say the same.” I wink at my mother.

    Travis turns back to her. “So listen, Cash is home early from his hunting trip. I didn’t expect him back so soon, which means we’ll need to rethink sleeping arrangements.”

    My mother’s face instantly flames, and a look of pure shock overtakes her features. Her hands shoot up to her cheeks, and she glances at me. “How could I have forgotten to tell you!? Between packing and putting in my retirement—”

    “Mom, slow down. Tell me what?”

    “Travis has a son. Bailey…you have a stepbrother.”

    I stare at her, disbelief pinching my chest. I get that she’s been swamped with everything, but how could she forget something that important?

    My mind starts spinning. What’s he like? How old is he? I’ve always been an only child. I have no clue how to navigate having a sibling, let alone a stepbrother.

    “Welcome to the mountain, sis.” A deep voice comes from behind us, low and teasing, the word sis dragging in a way that makes my stomach lurch. We all turn, and there he is, standing on the porch like a younger version of Travis.

    Devastatingly handsome, all tattooed muscle and easy confidence.

    He steps off the porch, sauntering toward us, and pulls my mom into a hug. When she pulls back, she says, “Cash, it’s so good to see you again. I’d like you to meet my daughter, Bailey.”

    He turns to me—bright, piercing blue eyes locking onto mine—and for a split second, I forget how to speak. There’s no possible way this is my stepbrother. 

    Not this man. 

    Nope. 

    No way. 

    And I definitely shouldn’t be aching in places I shouldn’t.

    “Earth to Bailey,” my mom says, snapping me back.

    “Oh…right. Hi…um…me…Bailey.” My words tumble out, clumsy and breathless.

    “What a pretty name…Bailey.” Cash grins, then pulls me into his arms. I inhale, caught up in his scent, and for a dizzying moment, it feels like I’m seeing the sun, the moon, and the stars all at once.

    What the hell is happening?

    He steps back, and I sway on my feet, trying to find my balance.

    “You alright?” he asks, voice low, smooth.

    “Yeah…sorry. Crazy long car ride,” I murmur, pretending to stretch all over again, hoping I look casual.

    I back away toward the car and start yanking my suitcase from the backseat. Suddenly, Cash is beside me, taking it from my hands.

    “Let me,” he says.

    “Thank you.” I offer an awkward smile and turn to my mother. “So…what’s the deal with the sleeping arrangements?”

    Before she can answer, Cash interrupts. “Bailey can stay with me in my cabin. I’m looking forward to getting to know my new stepsister this summer.”

    I gawk at him. He did not just say we’d be sharing his cabin for the next two months.

    “I’m sure you two would appreciate some much needed privacy,” he adds, turning to me. “Bailey, you don’t mind, right?”

    He wasn’t wrong. And really…was I going to be so selfish as to deny my mom that? After everything she’s done for me—always there, always giving—this is the least I can do.

    I glance at my mom, glowing, in love. “Yeah. It’s no problem.” She catches my gaze, and we share a knowing look.

    I’d do anything for her—including sharing a cabin with my ridiculously hot, off-limits stepbrother for the summer.

    I mean…what’s the worst that could happen, right?