Page 57 of Wrecked on the Mountain

She knew exactly what she was doing to me, and we'd barely made it through the salad course before I had her bent over her dining room table, that dress bunched around her hips while she gasped my name into the candlelit air.

Yeah. I'm definitely floating.

"Earth to Jamie," Knox says, waving a hand in front of my face. "You're doing that grinning thing again."

"Shut up."

"Seriously, man," Travis says, moving to settle into one of the booth seats with his beer. "It's good to see you happy. Been a long time since you looked this... relaxed."

And that's exactly what I am.

For the first time in seven years, I'm not carrying tension in my shoulders, not waiting for the other shoe to drop, not wondering if I'm enough for someone.

Brooke makes me feel like I'm enough.

Like Stone River is enough.

Like the life I've built here isn't some consolation prize, but exactly what she wants.

"She's good for you," Knox continues, raising his beer in a mock toast. "Dr. Shields. She's different from... well, you know."

He trails off, but we all know what he was going to say.

Different from Rebecca.

"She is," I agree quietly.

Brooke doesn't look at our community like it's some quaint stepping stone to bigger and better things. She asks questions about our history, remembers people's names, shows genuine interest in the problems we're trying to solve.

And she's looking like she'll be a damn good addition to the rescue team, too.

Yesterday, she spent an hour talking to Frank Barrett about the best local suppliers for emergency medical equipment if she ever needed it. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to understand how we keep costs down while maintaining quality.

Rebecca would have been checking her phone the entire time.

"How long's her contract again?" Beau asks casually, lining up another shot.

"Three months," I say, and suddenly my beer tastes flat.

"Wow. So she'stemporarytemporary," Beau continues, not looking at me as he takes his shot. "Just passing through, really."

"Yep. Just three months," I repeat, the words sticking in my throat.

What I don't say is that I'm the one who insisted on it. When the board suggested six months or even a year for the new doctor position, I'd shot it down hard.

I was tired of these big city hotshots coming here, making everyone fall in love with them, then fucking off back to theirreal lives. I wanted three month contracts to see if they were a good fit, then we'd see what happened from there.

The irony isn't lost on me.

Brooke got the shortest contract in Mountain Rescue history because ofmytrust issues. Now I'm falling for her, and I've engineered my own heartbreak with bureaucratic efficiency.

Beau's shot misses the pocket by inches, but I barely notice because his words are echoing in my head like a fucking alarm bell.

Temporary. Just passing through.

"I dunno, man. I think Brooke's different. I don't think she's just passing through," I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I realize how stupid they sound.

Because what evidence do I have that she's staying? A few days of great sex and some grocery shopping? Isn't that whateveryonedoes?