Page 17 of Wrecked on the Mountain (Stone River Mountain #2)

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."

"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. Still am .

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.

He looks back at me, smirking.

"Come on, Doc. Time's wasting."

I climb on behind him, and immediately understand why this is either the best idea or the worst idea Jamie's ever had. The snowmobile seat forces me to press against his back, my arms wrapping around his waist to hold on.

Even through our heavy winter gear, I can feel the solid warmth of his body, the strength in his core.

"Hold tight," Jamie says over the engine noise, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

The garage door opens, revealing a world transformed by fresh snow. Everything is pristine white and sparkling in the morning sun, and the trail ahead of us winds up into the mountains like something out of a fantasy novel.

"You ready for this?" Jamie asks, revving the engine.

I tighten my arms around his waist and lean forward until my helmet touches his shoulder. "Let's go save someone."

The snowmobile lurches forward, and we're flying across the snow like we're riding lightning. The world blurs past in a rush of white and speed and pure adrenaline, and for the first time since I left Chicago, I feel completely, utterly alive.

With every turn, every jump, every moment when we catch air, Jamie navigates it all with the kind of confidence that makes me understand why his team trusts him with their lives.

"You okay back there?" he calls over the wind.

I lean forward until my mouth is near his ear. "This is incredible!"

I feel rather than hear his laugh, and when he takes the next turn, he leans into it just a little more than necessary, probably showing off for his captive audience.

Total show-off.

But as we race across the snow toward someone who needs our help, with the mountains rising around us like silent guardians, I can't bring myself to care.

Because this doesn't feel like walking into a sterile operating room with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

This is riding into the unknown in a completely different way.

I'm on the back of a fucking snowmobile , adrenaline pumping in my veins, the wind biting my cheeks, and Jamie's warmth pressed against me.

It still matters.

It still makes a difference.

But for the first time since I was nine years old, I don’t feel like I’m trying to keep a promise to a ghost.

I’m just… living.