Page 43 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"How about I give you the real Stone River tour?" I offer, trying my hardest to smile. "Not the sanitized tourist version that ends at the community center and calls it a day."
Her entire face lights up, her smile making her eyes brighter. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Consider it an expanded version of my rescue services," I say, and the delighted laugh she gives me feels like a gold medal around my neck.
Without warning, she reaches across the center console and squeezes my thigh, her fingers warm through the denim. The gentle touch sends heat shooting straight to my already straining cock, and I have to bite back a groan.
"Thank you," she says softly, settling back but staying closer than before. Close enough that every breath I take is flavored with her.
I'm so fucked.
The road to Lone Pine Lookout winds through some of the most spectacular terrain in the county, and I find myself stealing glances at Molly as she takes it all in.
Dense stands of pine and fir line both sides of the narrow mountain road, their branches heavy with fresh snow that sparkles as we drive past in the morning sun.
Every few hundred yards, the forest opens to reveal glimpses of the valley below. Patches of meadow and farmland spread out like a quilt, bisected by the silver ribbon of Stone River running through the middle.
Molly has migrated closer to me without seeming to realize it. Every time I shift gears, my knuckles brush her knee, and each contact sends electricity racing up my arm.
"God, it's just so beautiful here," she breathes, pressing closer to the passenger window as we round a bend that reveals a stunning vista just off the road. "I mean, I knew the mountains were pretty from Sienna's pictures, but this is like... this is like something out of a fairy tale."
"Wait until you see the view from the top."
The road opens suddenly into a small parking area, revealing the weathered wooden railings of Lone Pine Lookout.
A single giant pine stands exactly where it has for the past century, its gnarled branches reaching toward the sky like arthritic fingers. The forest service has built a low stone retaining wall along the cliff edge, and rustic wooden benches face the panoramic view, making it the perfect place to show Molly everything.
I park near the trail head and kill the engine. We climb out and instantly the fresh mountain wind carries the scent of pine resin and snow, and somewhere in the distance, a red-tailed hawk cries as it circles from above.
It's beautiful, but all of that fades to background noise when I see Molly's reaction to the view.
She walks to the railing like she's in a trance, her soft pink lips parted in wonder, one hand pressed to her chest like she's trying to contain her heart.
The entire Stone River valley spreads out below us in a breathtaking panorama that never gets old.
"No matter how many times I've seen it, it's still picture perfect every time."
"It really is. I wish I had my phone," Molly smiles, not taking her eyes off the view. "It's so perfect."
I follow her gaze to the rolling hills covered in pristine snow, how they stretch to the horizon, broken only by dark swaths of forest and the meandering curves of the river.
Stone River Mountain's township nestles in the heart of it all like a jewel in a setting, smoke rising from dozens of chimneys, the church steeple catching the morning light. Tiny figures move along the cleared streets, cars no bigger than matchboxes navigating between buildings that look like they belong in a miniature Christmas village.
"Oh my God," she whispers, gripping the railing so hard her knuckles are white. "Beau, this is... I don't even have words."
I move to stand behind her, close enough that when the wind picks up, strands of her hair catch against my face, carrying that intoxicating scent that's becoming as essential to me as oxygen. Close enough that if I leaned forward just a few inches, I could press my lips to the curve of her neck where her pulse flutters like a trapped butterfly.
"That's the whole valley," I say, my voice coming out lower and rougher than usual. "Every light you see down there represents someone's home, someone's life, someone's dreams."
I point over her shoulder toward the cluster of buildings that make up the town center.
"I grew up with military in my blood, so I understood what it meant to protect, to serve for the people of this country. But I never really understood what that meant until I came here."
She leans back, and suddenly she's pressed against my chest, all soft curves and gentle warmth.
I breathe her in, my arms come up to bracket her against the railing, caging her in without quite touching. I have to fightevery primitive instinct I possess not to wrap them around her completely and never let go.
"Show me," she says, tilting her head back to look at me. "Show me what you've built."
