Page 19 of Wrecked on the Mountain (Stone River Mountain #2)

While she's taking his vitals one final time, I coordinate with dispatch for a tow truck and make sure the accident scene is properly marked for other vehicles.

Professional. Efficient. Exactly the kind of operation that makes our team proud.

But I can't stop thinking about what Brooke said.

Too grumpy.

Like it was obvious. Like it was a fact of nature that someone like me doesn't get someone like her.

By the time we get Robert situated with Sheriff Cooper who arrives to take his statement and escort him back to town, the sun's starting to set behind the mountains.

Brooke's quiet on the ride back to the station, and I catch myself glancing back at her in the side mirror more than I should.

She's looking out at the landscape with that soft expression she gets sometimes, like behind those amazing, intelligent eyes, she's seeing something the rest of us miss.

When we pull into the garage, it's just after six PM, and the station is quiet except for the hum of the emergency monitoring equipment.

"Nice work out there, Doc," I say as we unload our gear. "That was... impressive."

She looks surprised by the compliment. "Just doing my job."

"No," I say, setting down the medical kit and turning to face her. "That was more than just doing your job. The way you handled Robert, kept him calm while getting all the information you needed... I've worked with a lot of medics over the years. Military and civilian. You're something else."

The way her cheeks flush at the praise makes something warm spread through my chest.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "That... means a lot, coming from you."

We head inside to do the paperwork, and I'm trying to figure out how to bring up what she said earlier without sounding like a complete asshole when she settles at the desk in the main office.

Fuck it.

I slam the door behind us, the sound echoing through the quiet station like a gunshot.

Brooke jolts in her chair, eyes wide. “What—”

“So,” I say slowly, prowling around the desk until I’m standing behind her like a shadow, my voice dropping to a rough, hungry edge. “You think I’m too grumpy, huh?”

I can see her stiffen, but there's something in her posture that tells me she knows exactly what game we're playing now.

"Jamie, I was just—"

"Just what?" I lean down, bracing my hands on either side of her chair, caging her in. My mouth is close enough to her ear that I can smell that citrusy perfume that's been driving me crazy for days. "Just giving poor Robert your honest assessment of my charming personality?"

She turns in her seat slowly, and the second our eyes meet, I see it… that spark. The dare in her grin. She's not apologetic. She’s lit a match and now she wants to see if I’ll burn.

“I was deflecting,” she murmurs, breath catching. “He thought we were married, and I—”

“And you immediately shot that down by telling him no woman in her right mind would marry my grumpy ass,” I finish with a smirk, straightening to full height. "Really did a number on my ego there, sweetheart."

She bites her lip, clearly fighting a smile. And fuck me, that little act of rebellion is only going to make this even sweeter.

"That's not what I meant."

"No?" I circle around to the front of the desk, leaning against it with my arms crossed, making a show of looking deeply offended. "Because it sounded like you were telling Robert that I'm some kind of impossible cave man who grunts at people and scares off potential wives."

"You do grunt at people," she points out, and now she's definitely trying not to laugh.

"I do not grunt."

"You absolutely grunt. This morning when Knox was teasing you about the bacon? Pure caveman grunt."

"That was not a grunt, that was an expression of masculine frustration."

"Uh-huh."

She stands up slowly, like she knows exactly what she's doing, and damn if she doesn't. As she rises, she shrugs out of her rescue jacket, letting it fall over the back of the chair.

Underneath the coat, her top is doing things to her figure that should be illegal in a professional setting. Tight across her chest, hugging her waist, the faint outline of a black bra teasing beneath the neckline.

She’s not just standing. She’s presenting .

My gaze drops and sweet hell, I couldn't stop it if I tried.

"And what would you call the sound you made when Chase broke the snowmobile engine?"

“That,” I growl, “was justified .”

"Sounded like a grunt to me."

She’s toying with me. Coy and confident, eyes sparkling with challenge. Like she knows she’s got her finger on the trigger and she’s daring me to pull it.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, voice low and tight.

“Maybe a little,” she says, tilting her head back to meet my gaze.

"Well then," I say, my voice dropping as I reach out to trace one finger along her jawline. “Since you think I’m such a grumpy bastard, maybe I should show you exactly what that looks like.”

Her breath hitches. A single flutter of her throat gives her away.

“Jamie—”

“You know what grumpy men do when pretty doctors call them too difficult to marry?” I drop my mouth to her ear, let my lips brush the shell of it as I speak. “We don’t just argue. We don’t debate.”

I graze her earlobe with my teeth and feel her shudder.

“We prove it.”

“Turn around, Brooke.”

Her eyes flash. “What?”

“You heard me.” I tighten my grip on her waist, voice gravel and command. “Turn around. Put your hands on that desk.”

The shock in her expression lasts all of a second. Then she turns, ever so slowly, until her palms are pressed to the desk surface and her ass is flush against my hips.

Her back arches, just enough to push that perfect ass up into me, and my vision explodes at the sight. That seductive curve. Those hips made for my hands.

The subtle tease of lace barely hidden beneath the waistband of her snow pants. The same lace I saw earlier. The one she knew I’d see. The one she wanted me to see.

“You wore these panties on purpose, didn’t you?” I murmur, sliding a hand down her spine and gripping one cheek through the tight fabric. “Bent over in the snow, knowing I’d be watching. Knowing exactly what they’d do to me.”

Her breath stutters somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and her fingers curl tighter against the desk, hips rocking against my groin.

“Tell me, Doc…” I lean in, lips brushing the shell of her ear, “you like being a naughty girl?”

She nods, barely, but it’s there.

“Because naughty girls,” I whisper, grazing my teeth along her jaw, “get punished.”

I rock my hips forward, grinding the full length of my cock against the round swell of her ass, and the sound she makes nearly undoes me.

“Still think I’m too grumpy?” I ask, voice dark and full of promise.

She glances over her shoulder, eyes molten, mouth parted.

"Yes."

Game fucking on.