Chapter 1
Tessa
The smell hits me before the door even opens. Something between wet wood, mildew, and … Oh god, is that urine? Animal urine?
I jam the key into the ancient looking lock. It sets off a gazillion memories for me that make me slip into my child-self. All the times we arrived here at the cabin for vacation, my dad turning the lock with ease as I watched him open the door to what felt like an adventure waiting.
But not now, the lock actually turns, but the doorknob won’t budge.Shoving hard, I begin silently praying to the real estate gods. Finally, the door groans open half an inch before catching on something soft. Or furry.
A pair of glowing eyes blink back at me from the dark.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I stumble back down the rickety stairs — half slipping, half screaming as a raccoon launches itself from the entryway like a furry cannonball. It hits the porch railing, knocks over an old planter I forgot existed, and scurries into the overgrown weeds like it owns the place. Which, let’s be honest … it probably does.
Great. Day one and I’ve already beenevicted by a raccoon.
I stand with my hands on my hips. Now what? My heart is about to beat out of my chest. Damn, that was frightening. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or call a pest control service. Probably … all three.
My mom told me and did I listen? Hell no! She said it was probably beyondwhat I’d want to get into. Seems it’s another time she’s right. But she and dad can’t deal with this cabin. And they’ve promised me if I can get it ready and have a real estate broker sell it, I can put half the proceeds toward my student loans. That made me feel pretty optimistic about this project. I’m hoping there are no more surprises and … only one raccoon.
This place was supposed to be a quick in-and-out fix-up. A few coats of paint. Some elbow grease. A check from the buyer. Instead, I’m facing what appears to be a rodent rebellion.
"You okay there, Montgomery?"
The voice comes from over my shoulder. They know my name. A man’s voice … and he knows me?
I spin around. There he is. Liam Rowe. He’s shirtless and holding an axe. I guess he’s been chopping wood. Liam looks like he’s been plucked straight from a lumberjack fantasy calendar and dropped into my childhoodmemories.
He’s older now with even more defined muscles than I remember. He’s always been ‘older’ — too old for me. His hair peeks out of his ball cap and it still looks golden blond. Same stoic expression, but somehow different. Liam is not the much older boy next door I used to sneak glances at. He’s a real man now. And he’s looking right at me.
“Welcome back,” he adds, like we’re neighbors swapping casserole recipes. Evidently, Liam is not completely derailed by flying raccoons. Or, the fact that we haven’t seen each other in years. He’s just … ever friendly, unobtainable Liam.
I clear my throat, forcing my gaze upward. "Hey, Liam. Long time. Just … bonding with the local wildlife."
His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. "Looks like you made a strong first impression."
"That raccoon scared the crap out of me. I was just trying to open the door. I’m afraid he’s taken over our family’s cabin."
His eyebrows lift. “Hope not! You here for the summer?”
“Just long enough to whip this place into shape and find a buyer.”
“Well, I’m just next door if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Appreciate it.”
He gives me a slow nod, turns and heads back over to his property. I watch as he wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and splits another log. He’s still as sexy as ever. Between being surprised by the raccoon and my teen crush, my pulse is definitely in cardiac training mode. Apparently, he’s just being cordial and not into catching up with one another.
Still rattled, I head back to my SUV and rummage in the center console for a flashlight. The sun’s out, but something about that shadowy interior makes me want backup illumination. Just in case.
I step up to the porch again, this time with caution, and nudge the door fully open with my foot. The light switch isjust inside, and by some miracle, the electricity works. The dim overhead bulb flickers to life, casting yellow light across the room.
And the smell hits harder this time. I slap a hand over my nose. Inside, it's worse than I imagined. Mildew crawls up one corner wall, and a trail of scattered debris marks where the raccoons have come and gone. One of the sofa cushions has been chewed clean through, the stuffing puffed out like it exploded in protest. There's a gaping hole in the far wall, the one that used to lead to the laundry nook. My childhood home-away-from-home looks like a haunted woodland frat house for wildlife.
This isn’t just a clean-and-list job. This is a full-blown overhaul. I snap a few photos with my phone trying to get wide shots of the living room. I then take zoom-ins on the mess, texting them with a short caption to my parents.Made it. You’re not going to believe this place.
The quiet hum of the ceiling fan and a low buzz of insects outside make thewhole moment feel surreal. I retreat to the SUV, sink into the driver’s seat, and pull out the emergency donut I stashed in a paper bag from the gas station. Powdered sugar everywhere. I don’t even care. I wash it down with the lukewarm dregs of my coffee and stare at the front of the cabin, wondering how I’m supposed to do this alone.
