The last thing Ethan Thomas wanted was human companionship. He was completely happy standing alone at the window in his rented cabin looking over the lake which reflected layers of snow covered Montana mountains. The clean air and blissful silence had reduced his stress levels to zero. The fact that the only other living souls he encountered were the elk and deer in the forest didn’t hurt either. No one to sniff after his money or guilt him into providing for them. The mountain wildlife didn’t see him as a check book and no one in the nearby town of Greendale needed to know that he had ten figures behind his name.

Sure, if he searched deep inside himself, he would admit he was a tiny bit bored. Bored but not lonely. Having sold off the company he started after retiring from the Army Rangers, Ethan lacked direction. The first few months had been great, but now he was starting to get an itch to do something more than just look at the scenery. Problem was, he had no idea what he wanted to do. Something in the outdoors for sure. These mountains here had touched something inside him. But what? He had no idea.

Good thing he could take as long as he wanted to decide.

A chirp heralded an incoming call. As he pulled the smartphone from his pocket, his sister’s face filled the screen, smiling above the two taunting buttons.

Accept.

His thumb launched toward the Reject button instead. He’d hoped that here, in Whitebark National Forest, the cell phone signal would be weak enough that she couldn’t reach him. It appeared, with one wavering bar, that he had been incorrect. Jordan could reach him even here.

But she couldn’t know where he was. When he’d left home, he’d chosen a remote campground near a tiny forgotten town. No one could milk him for money here, not even his sister. Blood might be thicker than water, but it turned out that it was not thick enough to resist the lure of the dollar sign.

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he turned away from the window and continued to put away the latest purchase of fresh food he’d bought from the grocer in Greendale. The cabin was equipped with a wood stove and a small refrigerator, but no other kitchen appliance. Any cooking he hoped to do for himself on the days he didn’t feel like making the ten-minute drive into town would have to be done on the woodstove with the cast iron frying pan hanging from a sturdy hook on the wall, or on an open fire.

No toaster, microwave, coffee maker, not even an oven resided in the cabin whose kitchen area consisted of a short row of cabinets with minimal counter space surrounding the world’s smallest sink and a tiny four foot tall fridge. It was rustic simplicity at its best. During his time with the Rangers, he’d gone with far less. If the convenience of modern appliances was the price he had to pay for his solitude, he would pay it gladly. The cabin was equipped with modern plumbing, if not a modern kitchen, so he wasn’t entirely without comfort.

He popped the last, home-baked cookie into his mouth as he shut the fridge door. Still soft, the sweet taste of cinnamon and vanilla helped him to relax again. The campground owner, Ruby Burrows, seemed almost grandmotherly in her insistence of foisting the cookies on him every time he stopped in at the main log-sided lodge. Nearing eighty at his estimate, she moved slower than he did but filled his brief visits with chatter about the history of the campground she had owned with her late husband for the past fifty years. The campground seemed to have fallen into some disrepair, but Ruby, at her own methodical pace, seemed determined to fix every last imperfection. It was clear from the look on her face when she talked that she loved this place with every fiber of her being.

Ethan didn’t mind at all that he hadn’t been able to choose his cabin due to most of them being unfit for use. The disrepair meant that, during the tail end of the camping season as summer turned to fall, he would be uninterrupted in his newfound nature paradise. Heck, the cabins were insulated and he was considering staying the winter, too.

As he stepped out of his cabin, breathing in the crisp scent of pine needles, the blare of a radio and spinning of tires against gravel shattered his peace. Cringing, he turned to his left. A thin stand of white-bark pine trees separated him from the neighboring cabin, which he’d been assured was unoccupied. The one question he’d had for Ruby before he so much as reserved a cabin was whether or not he was likely to be disturbed while at Pinecrest Lodge. If not for the fact that he wanted to hide his wealth from the neighboring town, he would have rented out the entire camp.

Now he wished he had. This was more than a disturbance. This was an atrocity. The deep thrum of the bass hurtled through him causing a stabbing pain behind his right eye. Balling his fists, he turned toward the main lodge—the direction from whence the silver SUV visible through the tree line had emerged. Ethan refused to stay here with a hard-of-hearing hip hop fanatic. He would—

He had nowhere else to go, not if he meant to stay in Whitebark National Forest. Pinecrest Lodge was the only campground in this vast, ethereal wilderness that was suitable. It had taken weeks of research to settle upon this place as his perfect hideaway. Not to mention, this late in September, campgrounds were starting to close for the winter. Those that weren’t either didn’t have cabins or were full up with fall campers. He might not find another remote hideout even if he tried.

The radio cut off as the engine stopped. Blissful silence enfolded him as a slender brunette in shorts and a blouse exited the SUV. She didn’t seem to notice him as she rounded the hood to the far side.

Shorts and a blouse? At a campground? Clearly not someone who was prepared to spend time in a rustic cabin. Maybe she was just passing through and hadn’t been able to find a motel room. How long could she possibly intend to stay? It might only be for a night.

He’d ask Ruby before he rushed into any decisions. Pinecrest Lodge was the first place in a long time when the weights of the past and his wealth didn’t sit on his shoulders. Determined and hopeful that this new woman would vacate his peaceful hideaway before long, he strode out for the main lodge.

He gave the neighbor’s cabin a wide berth along the way.