By the time the one-story, long, rectangular log building that was the main lodge came into view, the back of Ethan’s neck still prickled with awareness. The woman in the cabin had certainly seen him as he’d passed, even though he’d tried to keep to the tree line. As long as she didn’t knock on his door and try to make friends, his life would continue as planned.

This was a campground, not a five-star resort. Considering that she’d worn high heels and a billowy blouse to the cabin, he didn’t think she’d last long. This was a place of practicality, survival. Artificiality belonged in the city.

Nevertheless, to make certain he wouldn’t be disturbed, he rounded the corner of the main lodge toward the front door. Wide glass windows peeked into a lobby with a stone fireplace on one wall. This is where Ruby checked in her guests. During his brief stay there, he’d also noticed trail maps, a larger map of the county, and an old school land-line telephone for guests to use if needed. The cabins didn’t contain phones, but since everyone nowadays carried a cell phone, Ethan doubted that communication was an issue, even up here with finicky cell signals.

Ethan was about to enter the main wooden door, cracked from the seasons and in need of a fresh coat of paint, when he spotted a ladder propped against the far corner of the building. His gaze followed the rungs to the top, where Ruby wearing gray sweatpants splattered with paintstains leaned her hip against the eaves while she struggled to remove a shingle with the hook of the hammer.

“Ruby!”

That woman was going to fall and break her hip! If not her head. He quickened his stride, reaching the bottom of the ladder as she set down the hammer on the slant of the roof and wiped her brow. She still didn’t hold onto the ladder properly.

“Is something the matter?”

“Are you trying to kill yourself? Come down from there! Slowly.”

The grooves in Ruby’s face deepened as she stomped down the ladder. Ethan held it steady, then stepped hastily back as she brandished the hammer and turned on him. “Don’t look at me and think I’m some helpless, frail old lady. I’ve been doing this since before you were born.”

“I’m sure you have, but without having someone to hold the ladder steady or some way of bracing yourself on the roof, you’re gambling with fate.”

She wagged the hammer through the air like it was her finger. “I need to patch up those broken shingles before the next rainfall or I’m going to be swimming in my kitchen.”

“I’ll do it,” he said on impulse.

The hostile look on her face melted away, replaced by hesitation. “You will?”

The spread of warmth in his chest at the thought of doing an honest day’s work again surprised him. Wasn’t the American dream to get rich so you didn’t have to do that kind of thing again? But ever since Ethan had sold his design for a backpack that contained all the essentials needed for a short camping trip and converted into a one-man tent, he had been at a loss. At first, the money and time to relax had been a weight off his shoulders. However, the high roller life grew stale once he’d realized how superficial it was. And now…

Maybe returning to hands-on work was exactly what he needed at the moment. He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll help.” He’d been the man of the house growing up, and knew how to fix everything from the roof to the kitchen sink.

“I can’t pay you.”

“I didn’t ask for payment. All I’ll ask is that you hold the ladder steady so I don’t fall.” He gave her a pointed look.

She nodded, her expression fierce. “After you replace that cluster of bad shingles, you can come in for some coffee and cookies.”

“That, I’ll accept.”

The distance between the roof and the ground precluded conversation, unless he’d like to shout his distaste for his new neighbor for the entire campground to hear. Using his strength to pry out the nails holding the shingles in place burned away his lingering annoyance. By the time he was finished, he felt as though he’d earned those cookies.

Although there were still shingles that needed to be put in place, he covered the section with a waterproof tarp and climbed down to Ruby once more. As he reached an easy conversation range, he rolled his shoulders and handed her the discarded shingles and hammer. “I did come for a reason, actually.”

“Oh?”

As she puttered away to dispose of the objects, he followed.

“What do you need?”

A sanity check? If his new neighbor continued to blast hip hop music, she would soon drive him insane.

“There’s a woman at the neighboring cabin.”

“Yes. This afternoon.” She led him to the back door and entered, making a beeline for the kitchen sink.

He followed to wash his hands at the same time as her. The tar residue coating them was dark and slightly sticky. “When I phoned asking if this campground would be occupied, you assured me that I would be your only client.”

With a mousy scrunch of her nose, she looked up at him in concern. “I’m terribly sorry, but it won’t be for long. I need the money. You don’t need to worry, she’ll only be staying the week.”

An entire week? He stifled a groan.

“You did say you intended to stay longer than that, didn’t you?”

“I hadn’t decided,” he answered between gritted teeth.

Adopting her grandmotherly attitude, Ruby ushered him into a seat at her round, wooden kitchen table. The worn wood, pockmarked and scratched in places, looked almost as old as she was. Not only was the main lodge the place where she greeted guests, but it also contained her personal home. He’d never been beyond this room, with its hodgepodge decorations of woodland animals and the checkered tile floor, but this kitchen held all the usual modern amenities.

As he sat, Ruby turned on the coffee maker and fixed a plate of cookies for the table. His gaze strayed to the fridge door, a chaotic mass of family photos, magnets, and letters. One notice near the top of the fridge caught his eye, new since he’d last been there. Greendale City Council Citation of Violations. Violations? Could that be why she was risking her neck up on the roof at her age?

When she caught him looking, she removed it and wedged it beneath the breadbox.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the grounds for a week.”

Over the past week since he’d arrived at Pinecrest Lodge, he’d managed to become friendly enough with the owners and patrons of the Greendale Family Diner in town as well as the local sheriff, Jake Lincoln, to glean a bit of gossip. Ruby’s plight was known in town. Over the past several years since her husband had died, the campground had fallen into a state of slow decline. Ruby wasn’t quick or skilled enough to keep up with the work of the campgrounds, and yet she seemingly didn’t attract enough business to hire someone to help. He couldn’t begrudge her the income from another tenant, even if he didn’t much like the idea of spending a week alongside the new arrival. Once again, he stifled the urge to buy out the entire campground for the duration of his stay.

“I’ll survive,” he said, his voice gruff.

If he couldn’t reveal his fortune, he could at least help her with the repairs she needed. It wasn’t as though he was doing anything while staying at the campground and he liked Ruby. She seemed like a kind and genuine old lady; before she knew of his money, of course. If she found out about his bulging bank account she’d probably turn into a money-grubbing viper just like everyone else. So, no matter how badly he wanted to help her financially he’d just have to stick to helping her by doing odd jobs. It would feel good to work again and it would keep him too busy to be disturbed by his new neighbor.

Standing, he stretched his hands over his head. “Why don’t I head back to my cabin and change my clothes before I get started replacing those shingles?”

“But the coffee is almost ready. And you haven’t had any cookies!”

“I’ll drink the coffee when I get back. I won’t be long.” He snagged a cookie off the plate with a smile. “One for the road.”

He stuffed it into his mouth as he strode out the door.

* * *

As Ethan pulled the plainest shirt in his closet over his head, he glared at the drawn, blue plaid curtains in the bedroom. The window in that room faced his new neighbor and he’d shut the curtains the moment he’d returned. Out of sight, out of mind.

Except… that wasn’t true at all. The drawn curtains themselves, diminishing the daylight and cutting off the view of the thin line of trees and cabin beyond, reminded him that he had an annoying new neighbor to contend with for the next week. At least he could look forward to spending that week anywhere except for his cabin. Surely Ruby had more than a single roof for him to fix.

He tucked his wallet into a drawer and stuffed the cabin key into his pocket, ready to leave, when a rustle caught his attention.

What was that?

Dang it, that faint scratching and snuffling sounded like it was coming from his garbage can! The animals hereabout usually only investigated the trash at night, hence why he’d thought it safe enough to leave it next to his cabin until later. Ruby kept a dumpster around the side of the main lodge, fenced with chain link to keep away night prowlers.

Was it a raccoon? A bear?

On his way out of the cabin, he grabbed a shotgun and loaded it with rock salt. He didn’t want to harm the animal, only frighten it away. His military training took over, his heartbeat steadying to match his breathing as he rounded the side of the cabin, gun at the ready.

He kept his finger on the trigger as he approached his overturned trash can cautiously, his focus zeroed in on the can to the exclusion of everything else—

“No! Don’t shoot Wookie!”

Ethan barely pulled the barrel of the gun toward the air before a woman launched herself at him. Despite her slim build, her body connected with him solidly and he lost his balance. The gun went off, shooting rock salt into the air as they both tumbled to the ground. The shotgun slid four feet away, out of reach.

The wind was knocked out of him. His ears rang. He fought to catch his breath as he stared up at the blue sky. The unusual weight on his chest was oddly soft and smelled faintly of lemons and vanilla.

His annoying new neighbor.

A shockingly pretty woman up close, with her hair highlighted and her pert mouth accented with gloss. Apparently beauty did not bring common sense. He doubted rock salt would kill her, but at close range, it might injure her badly. And she couldn’t have known that he’d loaded his gun with something less lethal than a bullet. What had she been thinking? He fought to rise onto his elbows.

A furry beige animal waddled from out of the garbage. Its long hair fell into its eyes, obscuring its darker, squashed face beneath. It looked like a cross between a skunk and a beaver, with about ten times the amount of hair. He’d never seen anything like it. Was it some kind of mutation?

Not seeming to realize the danger, the woman got to her feet, wobbling on her black pumps.

He scrambled to his feet after her, pushing her behind him. “Get back. It might be rabid.”

He reached for the shotgun.

She pushed out from behind him, racing to the creature and scooping it into her arms. “Wookie! Thank goodness.”

His words must have just then registered. She frowned at him and then said, “Wookie isn’t rabid, she’s a sweetheart. See?” She thrust the animal against his chest, into his arms.

When he stared at the animal in his arms blankly, the woman said in a slow, drawn-out voice as if she were speaking to an idiot, “Wookie is my dog.”

This mass of fur was a dog? As the pet’s lips parted and out rolled her perfectly pink tongue, the enormous mass of hair tilted to expose a squashed, black face. The hair mostly sprouted from the ears. Wookie’s big, brown eyes caught his for a second, trusting and yes — friendly. But he wasn’t going to be fooled by a cute face with friendly eyes. Especially not one that belonged to the music blaring, high heel wearing neighbor.

He thrust the animal back into her arms. Gruffly, he mumbled, “Be more careful the next time you see someone with a gun. You both could have been killed.”

Turning, he pointed his gun at the ground, then walked to his cabin. He shut himself inside, where he busied himself unloading and cleaning out the barrel until she returned to her cabin.

The next week couldn’t go by fast enough.