Page 35 of Wrecked on the Mountain (Stone River Mountain #2)

Chapter Twenty

Brooke

I stop breathing when Jamie opens the door to our suite at Cascade Springs Resort.

Not because I'm having some kind of medical emergency, but because this isn't a hotel room. This is a fucking fantasy made real.

Enormous windows stretch across the entire far wall, showcasing endless mountain terrain that looks like it's been painted by someone with a serious case of perfectionism.

Snow-dusted peaks roll toward the horizon in layers of purple and gold, and below us, Stone River spreads out with tiny twinkling lights.

But it's not just the view that makes my mouth fall open.

Jamie has arranged every detail with the kind of thought usually reserved for royal weddings or presidential visits.

A silver platter sits on the marble coffee table, overflowing with tiny chocolates, fresh berries, and bite-sized pastries that Chloe would swoon over. An ice bucket holds champagne, actual champagne, with crystal glasses already prepared with strawberries in the flutes.

Rose petals have been scattered across the king-size bed in the shape of a perfect heart.

Their sweet floral fragrance hits me like a love potion, completely intoxicating and rich.

It's the kind of scent that makes you want to dive face-first into thorny bush, not caring how badly it hurts because the smell is so divine.

"Jamie..." I breathe, setting down my overnight bag like it might contaminate the perfection. "This is... how did you even..."

He's standing in the doorway watching my reaction like it's the most important workplace performance review of his life, and there's something almost vulnerable in his expression.

"I hope it's not too much," he says gruffly, his button down shirt tight around tense muscles.

I spin around to face him, taking in the marble bathroom visible through open French doors. Oh my god. Even the bathroom is complete with a soaking tub that could fit three people.

This man planned this down to the shape of the rose petals.

No one has ever done anything like this for me. Ever.

"Are you kidding?" I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him with enough force to make him stumble backward. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Relief floods his face as his arms come around my waist, lifting me off the ground.

"The concierge said the strawberries were essential for proper champagne consumption," he admits with that grin that makes my stomach flip.

"The concierge was absolutely right." I'm laughing now, slightly breathless from the kiss and the sheer overwhelm of luxury I didn't even know existed in this world. "This is perfect. This is..."

I trail off because there aren't words for what this is. For the way Jamie's watching me like my happiness is his entire purpose in life. For how it feels to be spoiled like this, cherished like this, loved like this.

"You deserve perfect," he says simply, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You deserve all of this and more."

"Jamie, I just—" I shake my head in disbelief, looking around the penthouse. "When did I become someone who gets pampered like this?"

Jamie pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like he's trying to shield me from every harsh thing the world has ever thrown at me. This room is a pretty great way to do that.

His lips press against the top of my head, warm and reassuring.

"You've always been someone who deserves this." He murmurs the words into my hair, holding me so tightly I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek.

"It's just crazy, you know? I've spent the last fifteen years taking care of everyone else…

Patients, colleagues, medical school classmates who needed help with their thesis.

" I let out a shaky laugh that doesn't quite hide the exhaustion in my voice.

"Hell, I once spent my entire Christmas break rewriting someone's research proposal because they were having a 'creative crisis. '"

"I know you have, sweetheart."

I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against my cheek, but still, he just lets me talk, listening to every word.

"The funny thing is, I was actually proud of it for the longest time. Like being indispensable was some kind of superpower."

I shake my head, recalling all the effort it took to end up feeling so... defeated.

Like I had failed at life, like I was losing one too many patients under my care, each one of them digging deeper into the wound of that little nine-year-old girl who lost her hero.

"Turns out there's a difference between being helpful and being a human doormat with a medical degree," I say.

Jamie's arms tighten around me. "What changed?"

"I didn't have a choice. Before I accepted this job, or more to the point, was forced to accept this job, I was in danger of completely losing everything.

My work. My friends. My mind. " I clear my throat of the emotion suddenly evaporating from somewhere deep inside my body.

"My attending physician basically told me I was one mental breakdown away from being banned from ever practicing medicine again.

Apparently, working thirty-six hour shifts and refusing to take vacation days for three years straight is considered 'concerning behavior' in the medical community. "

"Imagine that," Jamie says dryly, his fingers threading through my hair.

I pull back to look around the penthouse again, taking in every carefully planned detail. The champagne chilling at the perfect temperature. The rose petals on the bed. The view over the private balcony.

It's all beautiful.

And he's done this… for me.

"I can't remember the last time someone took care of me with this level of thoughtful attention."

Actually, I can.

It was my dad, making me birthday donuts and pretending they were better than cake.

"Come here," Jamie says, moving toward the champagne setup. "Let me properly welcome you to Cascade Springs Resort."

He pops the cork, and of course Mr. Mountain Man knows how to open champagne without making a mess. He hands me a glass with a strawberry now bobbing in the golden bubbles.

The first sip is crisp, expensive, with a hint of sweetness from the fruit.

"To many more perfect weekends," he says, raising his glass, looking to me with those cutting blue eyes.

"To spoiling me rotten," I counter, clinking my crystal against his.

"Here, here."

We drink, and I wander across the plush carpet to the wall of windows, champagne making me warm from the inside as I take in the view. From this height, I can see the entire valley where I've built a life I never expected to want.

"So what's the plan, Mountain Daddy?" I ask, settling onto the couch and curling my legs under me. "Please tell me you've scheduled every moment of perfection."

His ears turn red at the nickname, but he's grinning as he joins me on the couch.

"Of course. We've got a couples massage in an hour," he says, checking his phone like he's coordinating a rescue operation. "Then a swim in the pool, then dinner prepared by a personal chef right back here on our private balcony."

"A personal chef," I repeat, shaking my head.

"Five courses, each with wine pairings. Locally sourced ingredients." He's trying to sound casual, but I can see the pride in his eyes. "I wanted you to see what Stone River has to offer."

What Stone River has to offer.

Huh. Maybe this isn't just a romantic getaway after all.

This is Jamie showing me what our life could look like if I stay. The luxury lifestyle we could build together in these mountains.

Well God help me, it's working.

I feed him a piece of chocolate from the silver platter, and when he catches my thumb between his lips, sucking gently, heat pools low in my belly.

"You're trying to ruin me for regular weekends, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," he says, not even trying to deny it. "Is it working?"

Instead of answering, I lean forward and kiss him, tasting chocolate and champagne. I reach for the front of his jeans, ready to show my appreciation properly, but Jamie jumps up like I've electrocuted him.

"Not yet!" His champagne glass sloshes everywhere. "We need to go!"

"Seriously?" I laugh as he pulls me to my feet.

He laughs and whisks me out of the penthouse, walking quickly until we're standing outside the spa's couples massage room, wrapped in the softest robes I've ever worn.

Of course… the massage room looks like something you'd find on a cruise ship.

Soft music plays from hidden speakers, essential oils perfume the air, and two massage tables are positioned side by side with enough space for the therapists to work their magic in-between.

"First time at Cascade Springs?" asks my masseuse, a woman named Frankie whose hands feel like they were specifically designed by the universe to work out tension.

"First time anywhere like this," I admit, face down in the headrest, already melting into complete relaxation.

And my God…

I haven't felt this loose in... years.

Possibly ever.

The last time I got a massage was during residency, when Piper dragged me to some discount place in Chicago that felt more like physical therapy than pampering.

This is different.

This is pure indulgence, every stroke of Frankie's hands designed to make me feel like a goddess.

From the table beside me, I hear Jamie grunt as his masseuse works on what sounds like some serious knots in his shoulders.

"You carry a lot of tension here," the man tells him with an accent I can't place. "Physical job?"

"Mountain rescue," Jamie replies, voice muffled by the headrest. "Lot of heavy lifting."

"And carrying beautiful women to safety," I add with a grin.

I hear Jamie's laugh rumble through his chest. "Just the one beautiful woman, lately."

Frankie chuckles. "You two seem very relaxed. Celebrating an anniversary?"

"Not yet," Jamie says, and his husky tone makes my pulse spike.

Not yet. Like it's inevitable. Like anniversaries celebrated like this are just a matter of time.