Page 45 of Wrecked on the Mountain

"No promises," Jamie replies with his usual gruffness, but I catch the way his eyes find mine across the parking lot.

Like he's still thinking about that kiss. Like he's wondering if that radio had stayed silent for thirty seconds more, how he might’ve pinned me against the sink, carried me to his bed, and torn off my clothes with those rough, capable hands.

I was ready. Stillam.

My whole body is throbbing with it. My pussy is still wet.Still.

One kiss and I’m soaked, desperate, spiraling like a teenager in heat. The burn in my core is a wildfire, and all I want is for him to come back and finish what he started.

Chase claps Jamie on the shoulder, then pauses. "Dude, what happened to your hand?"

Jamie glances down at the bright red skin. I probably should've put a bandage over it, but you know… I was distracted.

"Cooking accident. Dr. Shields helped me."

"Ah." Chase's grin widens as he looks between us. "How convenient that our team medic was available for immediate consultation."

"Very convenient," Knox agrees with grin. "Almost like she was right there when it happened."

I can feel heat creeping up my neck, but Jamie just shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that suggests this conversation is beneath his notice.

"You two done gossiping like old ladies?" he asks. "Because we've got an actual emergency to deal with."

Knox and Chase exchange looks but don't push further, probably because Jamie's using his "don't fuck with me" voice that suggests the interrogation is over.

"Alright, alright," Chase says, holding up his hands in surrender. "We're going. Try to keep each other out of trouble."

They head toward their vehicles, but I catch Knox calling out as he gets in his truck: "By the way, Strike—nice job on the breakfast bacon. Could smell it from here."

Jamie flips him off, which only makes both men laugh harder as they drive away.

"Subtle," I mutter, adjusting my medical kit over my shoulder.

"They don't know anything," Jamie says, but he's grinning as we head toward the station. "They're just fishing."

"Right. And the fact that you smell like bacon grease and I look like I slept in my clothes has nothing to do with their suspicions."

"You look beautiful," he says simply, holding the door open for me. "But we should probably focus on the emergency call before Martha decides to lecture us about punctuality."

Inside the station, Martha's waiting with the kind of look that suggests she's fully aware we're both late and has opinions about why.

"Forest Service Road 15," she announces straight away, handing Jamie a tablet with incident details. "Single vehicle collision, driver conscious but trapped. Looks like they swerved to avoid a herd of deer and went off the embankment into a cluster of trees."

Jamie studies the information while I grab my medical kit and emergency supplies. "How far down the embankment?"

"About thirty feet. Accessible by foot, but we'll need to bring equipment for extraction. The good news is the driver's responsive and doesn't appear to have major injuries."

"The bad news?" I ask.

Martha's smile is pure mischief. "The location is only accessible by snowmobile. Hope you're ready for some adventure, Dr. Shields."

I look from Martha to Jamie, who's watching me with an expression that's part challenge, part anticipation, and entirely too attractive for my peace of mind.

"Snowmobile," I repeat slowly.

"Yep." Jamie's grin is absolutely predatory as he leads us through the doors and into the garage where we were last night, fixing the machines gleaming in front of my eyes. "Remember what I said about teaching you to ride one of these things?"

Jamie swings his leg over the snowmobile and starts the engine. The sound is incredible—a deep, throaty growl that reverberates through the garage.