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“Spicious.”

I gave him a crooked half smile. “Yeah, that’s the word.”

He hummed thoughtfully and glanced over his shoulder at the older couple fading from view up the street. “Mr. La Rue walks by the park every day. If Rhys is there, he stops to say hello.”

“Who’s Rhys?”

“My camp counselor.” Emmett’s annoyed tone begged me to keep up. “He’s a teenager. Like fourteen or fifteen. His grandpa tells good stories and gives good ’vice. He says you should think outside in a box. I don’t get it, though. What’s so great about sitting in a box?”

I chuckled as I gathered our napkins. “The expression is ‘Think outside of the box.’ ”

“What does that mean?”

“Be creative. Look for new solutions. Instead of going down the same path, try something different.”

“Is that why you moved here?” he asked astutely. “ ’Cause you wanted to be somewhere different?”

“I—yeah. That’s part of it. But mostly for my job.”

Emmett stared into space pensively. “I’m glad you came here. I like it.”

“Good. C’mon, let’s get goin’ and⁠—”

“Do you think Mom would let me stay with you?”

Shit.

I tossed the napkins into a nearby bin and set my hand on his shoulder. “Your mom loves you, Em. We’ll have lots of time together, and when you get home⁠—”

“She might go back to rehab.” He picked up the cup of melted ice cream, threw it into the trash, and skulked toward my truck.

My heart sank. I knew better than to speak on my sister’s behalf. Yes, Emmett deserved more than empty promises. And on the other hand, Misty deserved a second chance. Or a third one.

I was just the uncle in the middle. But I couldn’t help thinking that seven years old was too young to know the word rehab.

CHAPTER 3

WAYLON

Mill Depot’s headquarters was a contemporary building at the forest’s edge two blocks from the mill. The original plans had called for it to be closer to the mill to easily transport product, but parking and logistics had needed to be considered. In the end, the two properties were adjacent with a copse of trees in between to discourage shoppers from accidentally wandering into the lumberyard and having to wrangle with a crusty logger.

Not that the Wood Hollow loggers were a bad bunch. Not at all. They’d been generally pretty easy to work with, albeit a mite suspicious of a newcomer. See, in their minds, I was a whole other breed. A mountain man.

“Totally different,” Beau had insisted. “You’re an outsider, and the best way to fix that is to get involved.”

Yeah…no, thanks.

Beau was a giant at six foot five, bearded, tatted, and built like a barge. He had an intimidating presence, but the dude was too goofy to be scary.

Same with Dirk, Micah, Ted, Kirby, Casey, and Lyle—to name a few. A smart man would think twice before crossing any of them, but they were good people, easy to work with.

The only one who was truly scary was Viggo, also known as Big V. He was even bigger than Beau and had a scowl that could make a black bear run for cover. In a twist, he was married to Dexter (the donut guy) who, in addition to being incredibly handsome, was one of the nicest people I’d met. I’d seen the couple on Main Street pushing their daughter in a stroller and yeah…Viggo was a mushy family man. It was kind of sweet.

Beau was right about one thing. Wood Hollow was nothing like the Shenandoah mountain town where I’d grown up. Not to say one was better than the other. They were different. The mountains were huge while the Four Forest area was like an outpost in comparison. The funny thing was that there was a lot more opportunity here. More jobs and better pay. I was here for the money, not to make friends.

A year from now, the Richmond branch of Mill Depot would open and if I proved myself in Wood Hollow, I’d transfer without a hitch. I hoped so, anyway.

That wasn’t as simple as it seemed. I was more of a logger than an admin guy.