Page 44 of Wrecked on the Mountain

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, tongue sliding along mine in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes my entire body throb with awareness. There’s nothing polite about it now. This is a promise.

A warning.

That when we finally give in… it’s going to wreck us both.

Jamie makes a low, desperate sound and starts to move, pressing me back against the edge of the counter, his hips brushing mine, one hand slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, trailing heat across bare skin—

"Dispatch to Striker—do you copy?"

The radio crackles to life on the counter and we both freeze.

Jamie's forehead drops to mine, and we’re both breathing hard, like we just ran full tilt through a blizzard.

"Motherf—" Jamie mutters, but cuts himself off, jaw clenched tight as the radio squawks again.

"Mountain Rescue, we have a situation. Vehicle accident, medical assistance required. Repeat, medical assistance required."

Jamie pulls back, reaching for the radio with his uninjured hand. "Yeah. This is Striker."

"We need you and the medical team mobilized now."

I watch Jamie's entire demeanor shift into professional mode, and it's incredibly attractive. Gone is the man singing Taylor Swift and making breakfast. Gone is the man who just kissed me like I'm not the only one feeling… whateverthisis.

This is Jamie Striker, Mountain Rescue Coordinator, and he's all business.

"Copy that. En route in fifteen." He clips the radio to his belt and looks at me. "Duty calls."

"Right," I say, suddenly remembering that I'm still in yesterday's clothes and probably look like I've been sleeping on a couch. "I should get ready for—"

"Brooke. Wait." Jamie's hand catches my wrist as I start to move away. "You ready to be a real doctor today?"

There's a challenge in his voice, but also something warmer. Like he's testing me but unlike that first day at the rescue station, today he looks like he's hoping I'll pass.

"I'm ready," I say firmly, grabbing my coat from where I left it draped over a chair. "But what about your hand?"

"It's fine. I can drive with one hand."

He moves toward the kitchen island and grabs a piece of bacon from a plate that somehow survived the grease explosion. He tosses the bacon my way and I catch it reflexively, taking a bite of what might be the most perfectly crispy bacon I've ever tasted. It's smoky and salty and exactly what I need after waking up confused and panicked and utterly kissed.

Even in the middle of an emergency, after injuring himself because of my early morning freak-out, Jamie Striker is making sure I don't go to work hungry.

The man is going to be the death of me.

Twenty minutes later, I'm pulling into the Mountain Rescue parking lot just as Knox and Chase are loading their gear into their personal vehicles.

"Well, well," Chase grins as I get out of my car. "Look who's running late. That's not like you, Doc."

"Traffic," I lie, hoping my cheeks aren't as red as they feel.

Knox checks his watch with theatrical effect. "Traffic at nine AM on a Tuesday. In Stone River Mountain where there are exactly ten trucks on the road at any one time.Right. That's definitely a thing that happens."

"Where's Strike?" Chase asks, looking around the parking lot. "Don't tell me Mr. Punctuality is late too."

Before I can answer, Jamie's truck pulls in, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling at the perfect timing.

We planned to arrive separately, making it as if we didn't spend the night together and share bacon grease burns this morning.

"Shift change," Knox announces as Jamie approaches. "You two are officially on the clock. Try not to let the town burn down while we get some sleep."