Abutting a steep slope, the large, rustic building with a rough-hewn stone base and three story high walls made of weathered logs nicely blended into its surroundings. Dotted with gables and balconies, the façade looked over an elegant circular driveway landscaped with tall ornamental grasses and colorful ground cover. In the distance, numerous mountaintops glistened in the sun.

Once she was out of the car, it didn't take long for a tall brunette in straight-legged jeans and a long-sleeved Henley to come out of the entry.

"I'd love to help you with that," offered the woman, flashing a smile as she bounded down the stairs in her round-toed boots and pointed at Ali's suitcase.

Prepared to refuse out of habit, a sharp pain in her wrist brought Ali back to reality. "Thank you," she said reluctantly, grimacing at her cast.

"No need. It's why I'm here," said the woman as she grabbed the suitcase, lifting it with ease. "Well, that and pretty much everything else. I'm Elizabeth McGhee, owner, general manager, and all-around problem solver at Pebble Creek. But you can call me Liz."

"Ali Barros," she said, hurrying to keep up. "Nice to meet you."

Liz didn't stop until they'd scaled the steps and entered the lodge, where she stepped behind a long reception desk. Tapping away at a computer, she quickly pulled up Ali's info. "Barros. Alejandra, right? You are going to be in room thirty-two, but if for any reason that isn't suitable, please let me know immediately. We're quite full, but I'll see what I can do," she said.

"Thanks again," Ali replied robotically, awed by her surroundings. The entrance hall was spacious and, like the outside, constructed of lightly varnished wood. It opened into a central sitting area, which had rows of windows on the far wall looking out on to a large lake. The soft glow of perfectly placed lighting and the rich blues of the fabrics on the floors and walls made the place feel inviting.

Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as she feared, but could she really handle the country life—and being away from work— for a whole month?

"Here's your key." Liz placed the plastic card on the counter and slid it toward her. "It'll open not only your room, but also the main entrance doors after-hours. We lock them to non-guests at nine for security reasons," she explained. "Now, feel free to come and go as you please, but we ask that if you do leave the property you sign out first." She tapped a clipboard resting on the counter at her elbow.

Ali furrowed her brow. "Is that really necessary?"

"I'm afraid so," Liz said with a no-nonsense nod. "Don't forget: we may have a resort like atmosphere, but this is a serious treatment facility. Our guests come here to get help with a variety of issues, and we need to be able to quickly locate any of them for their own safety."

"Right," Ali said.

"Thanks for understanding." Liz smiled. "And lastly, I have to ask you to give me all of your medications—including prescriptions and over-the-counter—as well as your cell phone."

Ali hugged her purse to her chest like a mother bear protecting her cub. "Why?"

"The meds are for licensing reasons. We have to monitor pharmaceutical usage the same way any clinic does." Sensing Ali's apprehension, she continued. "Don't worry. We've already gotten your scripts from your doctor in Manhattan so your dispense schedule is ready to go."

"As for the cell, we can't create a relaxing environment for our guests when they are constantly tempted with the irresistible distraction of being plugged in twenty-four/seven." She paused, allowing Ali time to absorb all the information. "Of course, I can't force you to give up your device, but if you're committed to being here and are willing to trust our methods, I recommend you follow the policy."

She sighed. "So I can't get in touch with anyone while I'm here?"

Liz reached under the counter and pulled out another phone.

"You can use this during your stay at Pebble Creek. It's locked so that you can only make or receive calls from approved numbers. We've preprogrammed it to include our administrative lines, and you can pick one or two numbers for the people you think you'll need the most support from in the next few weeks. Once you decide who that should be, just let any of our staff know, and they'll input them into the phone."

Ali opened her purse and pulled out her cell. Taking a last, longing look at the sleek device that was her life, she shut it off and slid it across the counter. In return, Liz handed over the temporary replacement.

It took her longer to fish out the cylinders containing the stronger opiates, sleeping pills, and anti-anxiety meds, taking care to slip out a single pain pill into the bottom of the bag.

"If you have a tablet or laptop, you'll notice we also don't have open Internet access," Liz said, returning to the scripted introduction after putting away the medication. "Our in-room entertainment, however, gives you a wide selection of choices, with the exception of news and general current events. Now, you're just in time for lunch, and if you'd like, I can take you directly into our dining area. Don't worry, I'll have your bag delivered to your room," she added with a wave of her hand.

Having flown across two time zones, Ali's body was already feeling like it was mid-afternoon and she was more than ready for food. To make sure she paid attention to it, her stomach gave an unceremonious grumble at that exact moment.

"That would be great," she said. Following Liz down a corridor, she soon heard the clatter of silverware and could smell the mouthwatering aroma of caramelized onions and garlic.

The dining area was on a mezzanine level and overlooked an open-air terrace. Chandeliers made of antlers hung overhead, and a long wooden bar stood adjacent to the entry. The opposite wall was lined with a splendid buffet and partly open to the kitchen in the rear. Chefs in crisp white jackets scurried back and forth, replenishing the chafing dishes and carafes. There were a dozen or so round tables with five chairs each scattered throughout the space. Liz led Ali to one in the middle where four guests were chatting.

"Everyone, this is Ali," Liz broke in. "She'll be with us for a few weeks. I hope you can make her feel welcome."

If she'd been in a cartoon, Ali would have certainly heard crickets right about then. "Don't all talk at once," Liz quipped, doing her best to ease the tension, but the faces of the three women and one man stayed cautiously reserved.

It actually didn't bother her because Ali wasn't quite up to forced pleasantries. A young man with a poncho hanging on his broad shoulders pushed his Jackie O sunglasses over his wiry black hair, looking like he was about to say something, but Ali pre-empted him. "I'm going to get some food," she said. "Excuse me."

Leaving the group behind, she hurried to the buffet tables and grabbed a plate. The assortment—hot and cold salads, pastas, meats, cakes, and pies—was impressive, but it was her first time navigating a self-serve line with the cast. As soon as she tried to pick up the tongs with her right hand, Ali knew she was in trouble. Her cast made it nearly impossible to get a firm grip on the utensil, but holding the plate in her injured hand was an even greater task. She'd also have to find something she could eat with just a fork, so anything needing cutting was a no-go.

Passing containers of roast chicken and pork chops, she settled on the baked ziti. The smell was already making her mouth water as she clumsily scooped the pasta onto her plate, but there was still the matter of getting something to drink. Various juices and sodas were available from nearby fountain machines, but maneuvering that obstacle and then juggling everything back to the table seemed impossible. She was contemplating making two trips when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"What can I get ya? You look like the mimosa type, but there's no booze 'ere. I know, 'cause I've asked," the petite blonde from her table said in an unexpected Cockney accent.

"No, thanks. I'm good," Ali said, trying to dismiss her, but the woman shook her platinum Cleopatra bob and held up an empty glass.

"I'm 'ere anyway. Don't ya worry; I won't make it a habit."

Ali sighed and scanned the options. "Fine. I guess I'll have an iced tea."

"The name's Wylda, by the way," her companion said after she had grabbed their drinks and they headed back to the table. "The old girl is Harriet, the uppity bird is Sheridan, and the bloke whose makeup is better than all of ours combined is Pete."

Ali looked around the packed dining room, considering her options. "Do you always sit together?"

"Pretty much," Wylda responded.

"Why?" she blurted out.

Wylda glanced back over her shoulder. "What do ya mean, why?"

Ali was perplexed by her curious stare. "I mean, is there assigned seating in here?"

"Naw, we just like each other, is all," she said. "Well, most of us."

"Oh." Ali lowered her gaze as they arrived at the table and took a seat next to the older woman, Harriet. Jamming her fork into the pasta, she picked up three pieces at once and stuck them in her mouth.

"You don't look too happy to be here," Sheridan commented, her voice the opposite of Wylda's. If the former reminded Ali of a chirpy parakeet from London's East End, then the latter was like an exotic feline from Mumbai.

She chewed and swallowed before responding. "And you are? Happy to be here, I mean."

Sheridan glared at her from behind a curtain of thick, black hair. "Not all of us came by force."

Ali gripped her fork harder than necessary. "And why would you think I did?"

Sheridan shrugged. "No reason."

Is it that obvious? Ali already disliked this stranger for noticing, but bit her lip to keep from saying something she'd regret later. Instead, she turned her attention back to eating. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could go hide in her room.

Something under the table brushed against her leg, and when she looked down, a pair of sparkling eyes looked back. Tugging on the bejeweled leash attached to the tiny white terrier, Harriet scolded the animal. "Marv, be a good boy and leave her in peace. Sorry, my dear, but he gets excited around new people," the older woman said as she patted Ali's shoulder with a wrinkled hand.

The act wasn't malicious, but Ali winced as a sharp pain radiated up her arm. Liz probably wouldn't have her back on the schedule until dinnertime, but thankfully, she was prepared. Rummaging through the bottom of her purse, Ali found the contraband and popped it in her mouth.

"Here less than an hour and breaking rules already?" 

Because all eyes around the table had been on her, Wylda's question was inevitable. Not that it made it less intrusive.

"I'm not an addict, if that's what you're thinking," Ali snapped.

Pete squeezed his lips together. "Uh-huh."

"You might as well admit it," Sheridan chimed in. "Because the shrink won't clear you until you do. But even if it's something else, it can't be worse than what brought any of us here. I mean, you can't trust a word she says." Sheridan nodded toward Wylda. "Pete will shag anything with a pulse, and this one thinks her husband was reincarnated as her dog."

Noticing Sheridan didn't mention why she was there, but not wanting to show anything resembling interest, Ali forcefully zipped up her purse. "Not that it's any of your business, but the pills are for my wrist and so is the physical therapy I'm here for."

Sheridan huffed and rolled her eyes, while Pete shook his head. "No one comes to Pebble Creek just for physio," he said, crossing his arms.

"I guess I'm the first, then." Ali pushed her chair backward in an attempt to leave.

"Honey, I'm Black and gay, so I'm pretty sure I win the prize for biggest fish out of water here. If anyone has a legitimate reason to be all up in arms, it would be me." He wagged a well-manicured finger at her and drew his lips into a dissatisfied scowl, making Ali regret ever engaging in the conversation.

After a split second of wide-eyed stares, Pete erupted into laughter and reached across the table to pat her hand. "Got you good," he said with a grin. "Welcome to Wonderland. Alice thought she fell down a rabbit hole, but that girl had never been to Pebble Creek Lodge."

He may have thought it was funny, but she was tired and in pain—neither of which helped Ali appreciate the humor in the situation. "What do we do with these?" She stood and nodded toward her half-empty dishes.

"Leave 'em. They have people for that," Wylda answered, holding up a compact mirror and reapplying her cherry-red lipstick.

"I'll walk out with you," Harriet said as she also got up. "Marv needs to do his business."

Ali would have preferred to go alone, but she didn't object. Allowing the older woman and her dog to lead the way, she followed them back to the reception desk. When she stopped to ask for directions to her room, Liz also handed her a printed schedule.

"You'll have individual and group counseling sessions at least twice a week. There are also specific times for your tailored physical therapy. Both are only offered on weekdays, so you can take this weekend to just relax and get acquainted. Otherwise, I would suggest making use of many of our optional activities, including our spa—"

"Thank you," Ali cut her off. If the handful of guests she'd met was the best introduction Liz could offer to her mountainside retreat, she'd seen enough. She didn't need to hear any more about what Pebble Creek had to offer because it was now clear she wouldn't be staying long enough to partake in any of it. The first thing she needed right now was a nap, but afterward, she was going to book the next flight back to New York. She'd call the family lawyer on Monday, and they'd just have to figure out a way she could keep her job without all this added hassle.

Heading toward the corridor leading to her room, Ali passed the entrance again. Harriet and Marv were just on their way back up the stone steps when the old woman somehow lost her grip on the dog's leash. The tiny animal immediately turned and ran off in the other direction.

Ali stopped, frozen to the spot while she stared helplessly as a black truck drove up the driveway. The dog and vehicle were on an unmistakable collision course until the truck slammed on its brakes in the nick of time, skidding to a halt on the packed-dirt road and sending a large cloud of dust into the air. At the bottom of the steps, Harriet threw her hands up in relief. Ali also exhaled the breath she'd been holding as the dog pranced around the pickup's front tire, oblivious to nearly getting run over.

The truck's driver rushed out and rounded the hood before crouching down to scoop up the tiny dog. Holding Marv against his chest with one hand, he stroked the pup between the ears with the other. A dark cowboy hat shielded his face, but Ali already knew what was underneath. As he stood up again, she finally saw the same stubble-covered square jaw, taut from the near miss and piercing eyes that had enchanted her back on the road here.

The serious expression suited him, but when Marv squirmed up to lick his face, the cowboy broke into a huge smile, revealing perfectly straight teeth and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. After he handed the dog over to Harriet, the tiny woman displayed her thanks by embracing her hero. When she let go, he respectfully tipped his hat, unwittingly flexing his biceps under a tight T-shirt.

Ali had never been so glad to see someone ditch the flannel so fast.

"Mmm-hmm."

The unmistakable sound of satisfaction came from behind her, making Ali jump. She'd been so engrossed in what was happening outside, she hadn't heard Pete approach.

"That right there is perfection," he whispered as he stopped behind her. "I don't know about you, but I'd ride that stallion any day of the week and twice on Sundays."

By the way she felt herself getting all tingly and hot, Ali couldn't deny that she agreed with the hilarious—but not at all untrue—observation. And who knew? Maybe there was a reason to stick around for a bit longer, after all.

Author's note: What did you think of the start of this story? I wanted to give you a full introduction to Ali and just a teeny bit of a glimpse at her LI by posting four chapters all at once, but from now on, I'll be posting one chapter per week until the book is complete. For the rest of August, updates will be on Tuesdays and then from September onward, new chapters will post on Fridays! Happy reading!! xoxox