Page 29 of Wrecked on the Mountain

But it's what she's carrying that makes possessive heat flood my bloodstream.

The purple thermal mug.Mypurple thermal mug, gripped in hands covered bymyinsulated gloves.

She's using the gifts I left her. Wearing them. Carrying them around town like...

Like she belongs here.

Three mornings I've been up at sunrise on Cascade Ridge, watching the trail light up with the break of day like some lovesick idiot, waiting to see if she'd show.

She hasn't.

But she's been using my gifts, and that has to mean something.

"Jamie?" Charlie's voice cuts through my caveman thoughts. "You still with me, man?"

"Yeah," I manage, forcing myself to look away from Brooke long enough to focus on his face. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Charlie follows my gaze and his grin widens. "Ah. Dr. Shields looks nice today."

Nicedoesn't begin to cover it. She looks like everything I've been trying not to want. Like home and heat and the kind of woman who'd fight beside you instead of running when things get complicated.

Like the opposite of everything the woman who left me was.

I watch Chase hold the truck door for her, and the spike of jealousy that shoots through me is completely irrational. Chase is a good kid. Professional. Part of my team.

But the way he's looking at her, like she's some kind of miracle that wandered into our mountain town...

Back off, Morrison.

"She fits here," Charlie observes, still watching them approach. "Doesn't she? Odd for an out-of-towner to adapt so well, huh?"

He's right, and that terrifies me.

Because Rebecca never fit. Even when she was trying, even when she was wearing the right clothes and saying the right things, there was always something... forced about it.

Like she was playing a role instead of living her life.

But Brooke, walking across the festival grounds with that easy smile, stopping to admire Etta and Mabel's booth... she moves like she belongs here.

The way she leans in, genuinely interested as Mabel shows her those hand-knitted scarves. The gentle laugh that carries across the crowd when Etta says something that makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. The casual wave she gives to my sister at the bakery stall.

She's not performing small-town charm… she'sabsorbingit, reflecting it back in ways that feel authentic.

I make my way toward the team, Charlie falling into step beside me with that knowing grin that suggests he's enjoying my internal crisis way too much.

"Striker!" Beau calls out as we approach. "Please tell me you've got something more exciting planned than standing around watching everyone eat overpriced tacos."

Beau's leaning against the truck with his arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. But I know him well enough to recognize the look in his eyes.

He might complain about community events, but he's here.

Just like he was with me in Afghanistan, through those long nights when the mountains around us felt more like prison walls than the freedom they represented back home.

"About time you all showed up," I say, grinning at my team. "What took you so long?"

"Martha couldn't find the emergency radio batteries," Chase explains. "Then I knocked over an entire shelf trying to help her reach them."

"He created more work than he solved," Brooke adds with a bright little laugh that makes something warm unfurl in my chest.