Page 37 of Wrecked on the Mountain (Stone River Mountain #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Jamie

I'm feeling like the king of the fucking world as I pull into the pickup zone at Stone River Regional Airport.

My truck is pristine—washed, waxed, and detailed like I'm about to transport royalty instead of Brooke's best friend from Chicago.

The interior smells like leather and the pine air freshener I strategically placed under the seat this morning.

I've stocked the center console with bottled water, snacks from Linda's general store, and even those fancy mints in a metal tin that Mom insists are "essential for making good first impressions. "

On the passenger seat sits a small bouquet of white roses from Mom's shop, wrapped in brown paper with a ribbon that matches the autumn leaves scattered across the mountains surrounding us.

This is it, I think, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror one more time. Time to show Piper what Brooke's got here.

After our perfect weekend at Cascade Springs Resort, I'm riding a wave of confidence that feels unshakeable. Brooke saw exactly what our life could look like if she forgets the three-month contract expiration and just stays forever.

With me.

I've given her luxury, romance, endless possibilities nestled in the most beautiful place on earth. She melted into every moment, from the couples massage to the champagne in the infinity pool.

She gets it now. She understands what we're building.

Right?

The automatic doors slide open and passengers start streaming out of the small but modern terminal. Stone River Regional isn't much compared to those big city places, but it's got character.

I spot Piper immediately, and damn, she's exactly what I expected.

Five-foot-six with perfectly styled blonde hair that's as straight as an arrow.

She's wearing a designer coat that's definitely not from Linda's general store.

Her boots have that expensive shine that says they've never seen actual mud, and she's pulling two pieces of matching luggage that look like they came straight from a high-end travel shop.

But it's not just the obvious city polish that marks her as Brooke's best friend.

It's the way she moves—confident, purposeful, scanning the crowd with the same intelligent assessment I've seen Brooke use. These women definitely trained together, probably survived residency by tag-teaming every challenge that came their way.

No wonder Brooke turned out so fierce.

I climb out of the truck and stride toward her, putting on my best "charming mountain man" energy. It's this front that made my sisters' friends giggle in high school, and usually gets me out of speeding tickets with female officers if I ever venture out of town.

"You must be Piper," I say, extending my hand with the confident smile that Mom always said would get me in trouble someday. "I'm Jamie. Welcome to Stone River Mountain."

"Jamie! Hi!"

Her eyes widen as she takes me in from head to toe. She's probably cataloging everything from my height to my old rescue jacket.

I can practically see her mental checklist: Tall? Check. Handsome? Check. Actually exists and isn't a serial killer? Check.

"Holy shit," she breathes, then catches herself. "I mean— wow . Brooke wasn't kidding about the mountain man aesthetic. You're huge."

I laugh, already liking her direct approach. "And she also mentioned you're not easily impressed, so I'll take that reaction as a good sign."

"I'm really not," Piper grins, shaking my hand with a firm grip that suggests she's dealt with plenty of men trying to intimidate her with overly aggressive handshakes. "But those are gorgeous flowers, and your truck looks so cool."

"My mom insisted on the flowers," I admit, reaching for her luggage. "Said it's proper manners for out-of-town guests."

"Your mom ?" Piper's eyebrows shoot up as I easily lift her designer suitcases like they weigh nothing. "Brooke, get your ass out here! This man's mother taught him to bring flowers for houseguests!"

That's when the game is up.

Brooke emerges from behind a pillar where she's insisted on hiding, saying it was part of the surprise but probably just wanting to watch this introduction unfold without interference.

She's wearing that burgundy sweater that makes her eyes look like liquid honey, and when she sees us together, her face breaks into the kind of radiant smile that could power the entire valley.

"Well, well, well… you two seem to be getting along," she says, practically bouncing as she approaches.

Piper drops her purse and sprints toward Brooke like she's charging into battle, letting out a squeal that could shatter glass.

"brOOKE!"

"PIPER!"

They collide in a hug and their voices hit frequencies I'm pretty sure are about to summon every dog within a five-mile radius.

I wince and take a step back, half-expecting Ranger to come bounding down the road looking for whatever distressed wildlife is making that noise.

"Jesus," I mutter, covering my ears. "Do all doctors greet each other like banshees, or is this a special Chicago thing?"

"He brought me flowers , Brooke," Piper announces, ignoring me and beaming at Brooke like this is breaking news. "Fresh flowers and a truck that's totally working for me on a small town vibe level."

The chit-chat that commences is unlike anything I've ever heard.

Words tumble over each other in rapid-fire succession.

First it's something about Chicago weather, then it's Brooke's hair looking amazing, our weekend plans, my shoulders apparently being "criminally broad," and that's all before the all important deep and meaningful about whether the altitude affects skincare routines.

I stand there holding luggage, watching this verbal tornado with genuine amazement.

How the hell do they breathe?

I open the passenger door for Piper, then circle to help Brooke into the middle seat, all the while they're still talking. The moment Brooke is settled against my side, her hand finds my thigh and my entire world feels right again.

This is what I've been working toward. Her two favorite people meeting and clicking immediately.

"So," I say, starting the engine with a rumble that echoes off the terminal building. "Ready for the grand tour?"

Piper claps her hands. "Yes, please!"

Brooke giggles like a little girl and I pull out of the airport, immediately starting my carefully planned route through Stone River's most impressive scenery.

The road winds through towering pines before opening onto the overlook that showcases the entire valley.

"Wowzers," Piper breathes, practically pressing her face to the window. "Brooke, you didn't tell me you were living in a movie set."

"Wait until you see Main Street," Brooke says, squeezing my leg. " So cute. And the café, and Timber Tavern, and—"

"And Fox Hollow Lodge," I add, glancing at Piper in the rearview mirror as we round the curve that reveals the luxury resort nestled against the mountainside. "Five-star accommodations if you ever want to come back for a longer visit."

The way Brooke lights up when I mention return visits makes my chest warm.

She wants Piper to love this place as much as I do. She wants her best friend to understand why she's falling for Stone River as hard as she's fallen for me.

Doesn't she?

"This is insane," Piper says, snapping photos through the window as we descend toward town. "How is this real? How are there not tourists crawling all over this place?"

"We like to keep it exclusive," I say with a grin. "You're lucky to be visiting in the fall. Winter usually keeps out the casual visitors. Only the serious mountain lovers stick around when the snow gets deep."

Brooke starts telling her about some of the missions we've had, about the helicopter and the snowmobiles. Piper is amazed at how different everything is, and when we drive through downtown, I point out each landmark like a proud tour guide.

"And that," I say, pulling up outside Bear Paw Café, "is where Betty Simmons, born and raised here, makes the best hot chocolate in the world. No joke."

"It's really good," Brooke confirms gleefully.

"Hot chocolate?" Piper perks up like I've just offered her designer drugs. "It's fifty degrees outside and I want hot chocolate. This place really is magical."

The café's front window glows with warm light, and through the glass I can see Betty bustling around behind the counter, probably already preparing some elaborate welcome drink for our out-of-town guest.

The woman has a sixth sense for new visitors, and it's the perfect first stop.

"Come on," Brooke says, reaching for the door handle. "You have to meet Betty. She's basically the unofficial mayor of everyone around here."

I'm about to follow them inside when my phone buzzes against my hip. Not the normal text message buzz either. The emergency ringtone that means Mountain Rescue needs me immediately.

Fuck.

"Striker," I answer, immediately recognizing Martha's voice crackling through the speaker.

"Jamie, we need you at the station. Multi-vehicle accident on the highway just out of town. State patrol is requesting our expertise for traffic control. Knox and Travis are already en route, but they say it's gonna be a lengthy delay and need more hands."

My stomach drops. That highway is notorious for winter accidents—black ice, sharp curves, and a hundred-foot drop-off that turns fender-benders into life-or-death situations.

But the sun is shining today.

Why can't people just drive safely?!

"I'll be right there," I say, slumping my shoulders at the thought of going into work today.

Through the café window, I can see Brooke and Piper already chatting with Betty, their heads together over what's probably the most elaborate hot chocolate presentation in café history.

Brooke's gesturing animatedly, clearly in full "show off my new home" mode, while Piper nods and asks questions like she's genuinely fascinated by small-town café dynamics.

Fucking perfect timing.