“If you’d read Aster Hollingsworth’s books, you’d know that those Alaskan mountains are apparentlyfullof big, tall, and buff mountain men.” She laughs. “That’s what we’rehopingyou’ll find, anyway.”
“You do, do you?” I muse. “Let me guess, that’s when I’ll be gettin’ a surprise visit from you two?”
“Of course! There’s no way we’re not seeing you forsix months.”Did I say I love my best friends?
“Let me get this straight, you two encouraged me to get that tarot card readingandto take this job so that I’d get the chance to ‘see my life with fresh eyes’ and now you’re telling me youalsowant me to be your mountain man matchmaker?”
“Nuh uh. Everyone who reads Aster’s books knows there’s onlyonematchmaker needed,” she replies.
“And who’s that?”
Alex sighs. “The mountain, of course.”
“Duh,” I reply wryly.A mountain?
“You really should read her books. You can get some tips on how to land a handsome mountain man to call your own.”
I roll my eyes but do it with a smile. “I’ll get right on that in between getting settled in a town where everyone likely knows everyone already and working at a new hospital with new people where I’m supposed to work out how to make it better for said townsfolk.”
“Pfft,” she scoffs. “That’s easy for you. Have youmetyou? You don’t have to worry about anything but being you. You’re cool, calm, and collected in a cute blonde, curvy package. Mark my words, you’re going to make moves and create waves in Timber Falls.Andif you just happen to meet a sexy, rugged, plaid-wearing mountain man to show you the ropes while you’re there, so be it.”
My eyes sting a little. “Damn, I miss you, A.”
“I miss you too, B. Even if ithasonly been four days, three hours, and twenty-two minutes.” I snort. “But Cate and I are always just a phone call or text message away. Remember that.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Not that you’re going to need to. You’ll become one of those small-town implants that arrive and never leave.”
“I–”
“And maybe that’s what you need, Blair.Maybethat’s what Starchild meant when she told you there was a fresh start onthe horizon.Maybe, you’re there, in Timber Falls, Alaska, for a reason.”
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t know yet. But something tells me you’re going to find out.
After chatting a little bit more, we say our goodbyes, and I take one last look at the town. Then I decide there’s no time like the present. I get back in my SUV and follow the GPS to the road leading up a breathtaking mountain that stands sentry over the town.
Ten minutes and a few scary moments later, I come across a seen-better-days sign on an old wooden gate that confirms I’m in the right place–Cooper Ranch.
Driving onto the property, a mix of excitement and trepidation churns in my stomach.
The lush green grass and scattered wildflowers amongst it paints a serene picture that’s a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the life I left behind in Rochester, Minnesota.
There are tall trees dispersed amongst smaller bushes, native plants that have honed their survival instincts over the years and weathered the storm of being on the mountain. When I see an older-looking house appear at the center of it all, I see that even that has a rustic charm that is as welcoming as it is homely.
The wooden exterior is half-painted, combining new with old but it looks sturdy, a testament to its years of standing strong against the elements. I can only imagine the stories its walls hold and the memories of generations past that echo through the halls. The love stories, the scandals, the births, marriages, and passing away of those who’ve gone before.
Parking my car, I step out and close the door behind me, taking a moment to soak in the beauty around me. The air is crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and earth. A sense of peace washes over me because in a lot of ways, this ranch reminds me of my childhood home.
Deep down, I’m still a country girl from Idaho who left the potato farm to go out into the big wide world and discover myself. That led me to Boston, then New York, then Rochester, Minnesota, which is where I’ve been based up until Uncle George’s surprising call.
But my heart will always be back on the farm. It’s why, when I was searching for accommodation in Timber Falls, I knew the guest cabin at Cooper Ranch would be a perfect fit for me.
I take a deep breath and walk toward the house, the wooden porch creaking under me as I climb the steps, my heart pounding with anticipation. As I raise my hand to knock on the door, I wonder who will greet me on the other side.
Before my knuckles can meet the wood, the door swings open and a tall man with rugged features—and yes, a plaid shirt and painted-on jeans–appears. His dark eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he offers me a warm welcoming smile. I stand there frozen for a moment as I take him in, not missing the small dimple that appears on the left side of his cheek as he extends his hand towards me.
