Page 7 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “That house is . . . there are no words.”

She giggled. “I’ve never seen a house so dedicated to a decade.”

“Ugh. Have you ever seen such hideous carpet? It was like the designer looked at an orange creamsicle and said, ‘How can I turn this into a paisley shag?’ ”

“Exactly.” She laughed again. “I can’t get over those yellow cabinets in the kitchen. And that wallpaper? Lime green stripes should never be paired with beige.”

I looked over my shoulder to the house and grimaced. It was an old-style rancher with three bedrooms, each needing a complete overhaul to bring them into this decade. Did I have it in me to take on such a large project?

This was our last showing of the afternoon. The first two homes we’d seen were in town. Both were nice, far better than this sixties monstrosity, but they were within twenty feet of a neighbor on each side.

I’d spent over a decade in apartment buildings and townhomes, sharing walls and public spaces with neighbors. I was ready to have some space.

“You’re sure you don’t want to look for something down along the lake?” Thea asked. “Something newer?”

“I just can’t afford any of those listings right now.” Only a few lakeside properties were on the market, and everything available was way outside of my budget.

Thanks for that, Adam. In a dick move, he’d contested our divorce, forcing me to spend a chunk of my savings on an expensive attorney.

So to stay within my price range, I’d have to purchase a house in the middle of Lark Cove or buy this one and do a complete renovation. The first choice was by far the easiest. But the latter option had its perks too.

This fifteen-acre property on the mountainside was gorgeous, and there was only one neighbor, a cabin about fifty yards away. It was close enough to run over in an emergency but far enough that I wouldn’t have to see them unless it was intentional.

“I do like it up here in the mountains.” Though Thea’s lakeside home was peaceful, there was something enchanting about being surrounded by hundred-year-old trees. The forest smelled rich and mossy with a hint of pine spice in the air.

“It’s a beautiful spot with your own hiking trail. You wouldn’t have to worry about setting up a home gym. Just climb this every day and you’d be in killer shape.”

“No kidding.” I was breathing harder than I ever had in a spin class.

We continued our hike, going up the steady incline behind the house that led to a ridge at the back of the property. My realtor had pointed us in this direction, encouraging us to hike to the top.

He was a good salesman, that one. The farther away from the house we walked, the more I was willing to buy it just so I’d have this as my backyard.

By the time we reached the final stretch of the trail, my thighs were burning. Sweat was beaded at my hairline and a drop rolled down my cleavage. I was comfortable in my cuffed boyfriend jeans and a casual T-shirt, but what I really should have worn was my gym attire.

“Almost there,” I told Thea as the trees opened up and the ridge came into view.

We pushed through the last twenty feet and smiled at one another as the trail leveled off, turning to run along the ridge. We followed it, stepping into an open meadow filled with spring wildflowers.

“Wow,” Thea whispered. “I’m starting to think a remodel is the way to go. Who cares what the house is like when you have this?” She held out her hands to the view.

“This is . . . unbelievable.”

From here, the towering mountains were visible in the distance. The one we’d just climbed was no more than an anthill in comparison. The valleys below were green and lush. The horizon went on and on for miles, and nearly the entire lake spread out behind our backs.

“Let’s keep going.” I took one step farther down the trail, but Thea grabbed my arm, holding me back.

“Wait,” she whispered, her eyes aimed ahead of us.

A momentary flash of panic hit. Is it a bear? I didn’t want to get eaten by a bear on my first real day in Montana. Slowly, I turned and followed her gaze, my feet ready to bolt at the sight of a grizzly.

But it wasn’t an animal that had caused her to freeze.

It was a man.

He was kneeling on the ground, about thirty feet in front of us. His head was bent and his eyes closed. His hands were pressed against his cheeks, his fingers straight as they steepled at the bridge of his nose.

Was he praying? Or meditating? Whatever he was doing, he was so consumed with it that he hadn’t noticed us down the trail.