Page 50 of Grumpy on the Mountain

The way he says it, the weight behind those words, makes my chest tight. He's not talking about the town or the restaurant.

He's talking about me.

After lunch, we walk slowly back to the truck, and I'm reluctant for this perfect day to end. The afternoon sun is warm on my face, and Beau's hand is warm in mine, and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of green chili mac and cheese and pure happiness.

We're almost to the truck when Beau suddenly stops, tugging gently on my hand.

"Let's just go this way for a minute," he says, nodding toward a small storefront with "Mountain Electronics" painted on the window.

"Why are we going in there?" I ask, confused.

"You'll see."

The store is small but surprisingly well-stocked for an isolated mountain community that doesn't look like it's set up for the modern world.

I follow Beau, past the latest phones, the sleekest laptops and tablets, all of them displayed behind glass cases. A young guy with hipster glasses and a carefully groomed beard approaches us immediately.

"Hey, man. What can I do for you?"

"Need a phone," Beau says grumpily. "Top of the line. Whatever's newest and in stock."

I look around confused, wondering why we're here. Does his phone not work? It seemed fine when Mountain Rescue called last night.

"Looking to upgrade?" The young guy asks, pulling out a sleek display model. "This one just came in yesterday. Brand new. All the latest features."

"Not for me," Beau says, his eyes finding mine. "For her."

My eyes widen. "Beau, no. You don't need to—"

"You said you threw your phone out the window. Few days ago, when your car broke down."

I stare at him, completely speechless.

He remembered that? A throwaway comment I made in Betty's café when I was having a complete breakdown?

"I can't let you buy me a phone," I protest. "They're expensive, and I don't even know how I'd pay you back—"

"It's a gift," he says firmly. "No paying back required."

His voice is so matter-of-fact, right to the point as if this is a completely normal thing to do.

"But—"

"Molly." His voice is gentle but brooking no argument. "Let me do this."

The guy behind the counter is watching our exchange with delight, like he's witnessing the most romantic thing he's ever seen.

"You'd be getting the newest iPhone," he offers helpfully. "Just came in yesterday. All the bells and whistles."

My mouth opens as I try to argue, but thirty minutes later, I'm walking out of the store with a brand new phone. It's sleek and beautiful and completely unnecessary, and I can't stop staring at it.

"This is too much," I say for the hundredth time as Beau snatches it from my grasp and programs his number into my contacts.

"It's a phone," he says dismissively. "Everyone needs a phone."

"Not everyone needs a phone that can run NASA. One of the older ones would have been fine, Beau."

He snorts, a sound that might be laughter. "Not for you it wouldn't."