Page 33 of Wrecked on the Mountain (Stone River Mountain #2)

Chapter Nineteen

Jamie

I lean against the doorframe of Chloe's bakery smiling.

Actually.

Not smiling… fucking beaming.

Because Brooke stands behind the counter of my sister's bakery like she's worked here her entire life, despite the fact that she doesn't work here at all.

She's wearing one of Chloe's vintage aprons, the one with tiny strawberries that my sister refuses to let anyone else touch because it's 'too delicate'.

Her hair is twisted into the usual messy bun, but today it's got a pencil stuck through it, and there's a streak of flour across her left cheek that she obviously hasn't noticed yet.

She's absolutely fucking perfect.

"Those maple scones are Chloe's specialty," Brooke tells Sheriff Cooper, sliding his usual order across the marble countertop. "Jamie says they're better than his mom's, but oh please don't tell her I said that."

Sam Cooper's weathered face breaks into a rare grin. The man who never cracks a smile for anyone is practically beaming at my girlfriend.

"Well, I'll be damned. You're fitting right in," he says, accepting his coffee and scone. "Jamie's lucky to have found you."

Found her.

Like she was meant to be here all along, just waiting for me to stumble across her.

Sheriff Cooper leaves and I stay watching Brooke chat with Mrs. Jenkins about her grandson's soccer season. It's then that I realize she's not just visiting Stone River anymore. She's woven herself into the fabric of this place so completely that I can't imagine it without her.

Which is exactly what scares the hell out of me.

"Morning, ladies," I say, finally pushing off the doorframe. "Are you planning on stealing my girlfriend all day, Chloe?"

My sister grins at me from behind the espresso machine, where she's creating some elaborate latte art for the tourists who just wandered in from the ski lodge.

"She's a natural," Chloe declares. "I'm thinking of offering her a job."

Brooke laughs, tapping at the screen as she processes the payment of yet another maple scone flying out the door. "I've got enough jobs, thanks. But Piper's going to die when she tastes these."

She gestures to the collection of treats she's assembled on the counter behind her. Cinnamon rolls the size of dinner plates, maple scones that could convert a diabetic, and those chocolate croissants Chloe makes that food bloggers drive for hours to taste.

"Jamie, try this," Brooke says, breaking off a piece of something that looks like it belongs in a Parisian café.

I open my mouth automatically, and she feeds me the pastry with the kind of casual intimacy that makes Mrs. Jenkins actually sigh and make heart eyes behind us.

The flavor hits my tongue like a bomb. Butter and honey and a decent whack of childhood mornings at the Striker residence. It's seriously good, but all I can focus on is the way Brooke's thumb brushes a crumb from my lower lip afterward.

"Good?" she asks.

"Perfect," I manage, though I'm not talking about the pastry anymore.

Chloe clears her throat pointedly. "Get a room, you two."

She's smiling when she says it, and I catch her shooting Brooke an approving look when she thinks I'm not watching.

My sister likes her. Hell, my whole family likes her. The entire town has basically adopted her as one of their own in the span of three weeks.

Which is why Piper's visit has me twisted in knots I can't untangle.

What if Brooke's best friend takes one look at this place and reminds her what she's giving up in Chicago? What if all those big-city opportunities start looking appealing again when she's confronted with someone from her old life?

What if I lose her just when I'm realizing I can't live without her?

"Speaking of Piper," Brooke says, carefully packing the bakery boxes. "I told her I'd pick her up from the airport on Friday. Her flight lands at two."

"I'll drive you," I say immediately. "That way you can talk without having to worry about the road conditions."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to."

Brooke's honey-brown eyes search my face like she's reading something I'm not ready to admit yet.

"Everything okay, Mountain Man?"

I force a smile, reaching over to wipe the flour streak from her cheek with my thumb. "Perfect. Just want to meet the famous Piper."

What I really want is one last perfect weekend before I have to share you.

Which is exactly why I've been planning a surprise all morning instead of working. But I need to get Brooke out of here before I can reveal what I've got in store for tonight.

Chloe eventually hands Brooke the final bakery box, tied with ribbon like it's going to appear in some lifestyle TV show.

"Tell your friend she's welcome here anytime," my sister says. "Any friend of Jamie's girlfriend is family."

"Come on," I say, taking the bakery boxes from her hands. "My sister doesn't get you all to herself."

I hold the door open with my boot, balancing the bakery boxes while Brooke steps onto Main Street. The moment she's through the door, I stick my tongue out at Chloe like I'm twelve years old again.

My sister flips me off through the window, grinning.

"What was that about?" Brooke asks, catching my expression as the door swings shut behind us.

"Nothing. Just sibling stuff."

Brooke pulls her jacket tighter, but she's smiling as she takes in the bustling street scene.

We walk down Main Street hand in hand, and I watch every person we pass light up when they see Brooke.

Frank Barrett waves from the hardware store, calling out something about her axe wielding lessons.

Betty hollers from Bear Paw Café's window, reminding Brooke about the book club meeting on Thursday.

Even grumpy old guy on the park bench, who no one knows the name of, tips his hat when we pass the antique shop.

They don't just tolerate her anymore. They claim her.

She's not the temporary city doctor. She's Brooke. She's ours.

She's mine.

"Piper's going to absolutely die when she sees this place," Brooke says, practically bouncing as we walk. "I want to take her to that waterfall Chase keeps talking about, maybe Timber Tavern for dinner Friday night so she can meet everyone..."

I make a noncommittal sound while scrolling through my phone, trying to calculate drive times to the Cascade Mountain Resort. I've been planning all day. Two hours each way if the roads stay clear. Private spa suites overlooking the valley booked. Couples' massage packages locked in before dinner.

All of it worth every goddamn penny if it reminds Brooke what we have before her best friend starts asking questions about her future.

"...and I thought we could do that scenic drive you mentioned, the one that goes past all those old mining towns..."

"Mmhmm. Sounds perfect."

Brooke stops walking so abruptly I nearly trip over my own boots.

"Okay. What's going on?" She crosses her arms, studying my face with those intelligent eyes. "You're plotting something. I can tell because you get this little crease right here—" She reaches up to touch the spot between my eyebrows. "—when you're planning military-level logistics."

Busted.

I pocket my phone, but not before she catches a glimpse of the resort website.

"Can't a man research weekend activities for his girlfriend's visit?"

"Piper's visit," she corrects. "Activities for Piper, not activities for me."

I grin, because she knows me too well already and somehow that doesn't scare me the way it should.

"Actually..." I loop an arm around her waist and pull her closer. "I was thinking… we could use a getaway before she arrives."

Brooke's eyebrows shoot up. "A getaway? Jamie, we literally live in paradise. Where exactly would we go that's better than here?"

I steer her toward the bench with a stunning view of the entire valley, the one where tourists always stop to take selfies with the mountain range spread out like a postcard behind them.

"Sit," I say, pulling up the resort website on my phone. "And prepare to be impressed by my romantic planning skills."

She settles beside me, close enough that I can smell her vanilla perfume mixing with the lingering scent of Chloe's bakery on her clothes.

"Cascade Mountain Resort," I say, angling the phone so she can see the screen from the glare of the sun. "Private spa suites. Massages. Five-course dinners overlooking the valley. Hot springs under the stars."

The photos scroll past and I watch her melt. Luxury cabins with floor-to-ceiling windows, that expensive infinity pool that basically drops off into the mountains, spa treatments that look like something out of a Hollywood romcom.

"Jamie..." Brooke's voice goes soft. "This looks incredible. But it must cost—"

"Don't worry about the cost."

"I can't let you—"

"Yes, you can." I turn to face her fully, tucking a wisp of silky hair behind her ear. "Brooke, I want to do this. For us. Before your friend gets here and we're sharing you with someone else for the first time."

Something flickers across my face and I can't quite school it quick enough for her not to notice.

"You're nervous about Piper visiting."

It's not a question. And she looks pretty chuffed with herself right now for figuring it out.

I consider denying it, but what's the point? She sees right through me anyway.

"Fine. Maybe a little," I admit. "She's your best friend. Your connection to Chicago. What if she takes one look at this place and reminds you what you're missing back home?"

Brooke's hand finds mine and she squeezes them tight.

"Jamie Striker," she says, lifting my chin with her finger. "You think I don't know what I have here?"

"I think you're brilliant and accomplished and could have anything you want anywhere in the world."

"Right now, all you need to know, is that… I want you," she says simply. "I want this. In this exact moment. I want Sunday dinners with your family and watching the sunrise from your mountain deck."

I study her face, looking for any hint of uncertainty. All I find is that steady warmth that's been healing parts of me ever since she arrived.