Page 10 of Wrecked on the Mountain
Dr. Brooke Shields might be impressive on paper. Specialized medical degree. Trauma surgery fellowship. Publications in fancy journals.
But does she have what it takes to handle real mountain emergencies? To care about our people?
Stone River Mountain deserves the best. My people deserve someone who'll stay, who'll become part of the community—not just use us as a career sabbatical.
And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure they get exactly that.
You see, the things is… I've heard it all before.
I can handle myself just fine.
Rebecca, my ex-fiancé, said those exact words, right here on this mountain. Right before I found her acceptance letter from that LA marketing firm hidden between the couch cushions of our apartment.
Three days before our wedding.
Promises made. Promises broken.
She left me with a ring, a venue deposit, and a heart that's never quite healed right.
I won't make that mistake again.
Brooke steps closer to the fence, close enough that I can smell her shampoo, something expensive and citrusy that definitely didn't come from Linda's general store down on Main Street.
"You think you have me all figured out," Brooke says, and there's something vulnerable beneath the anger now. Something that makes my chest tighten in a way I don't like.
"I think you're exactly like every other city woman who comes up here looking for some kind of mountain magic," I reply, locking eyes with her. "And I think you'll be gone the minute something better comes along."
Because that's exactly what Rebecca did.
Brooke's expression softens, like she can hear something in my voice that I didn't mean to show.
For a moment, we just stand there, staring at each other through the fence slats. The morning sun catches the gold in her eyes, and I can see tiny freckles scattered across her nose.
She's beautiful. More beautiful than her file photo suggested. And there's something about the way she's looking at me now—like she sees past the asshole routine to whatever's underneath.
It makes me want to step closer.
It makes me want to prove her right.
It makes me want to do something phenomenally stupid.
So instead, I push back from the fence and grab my flannel from the deck railing.
"Well," I say, shrugging into the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned, "guess we'll find out. Mountain Rescue's a small operation. Tight-knit. We'll probably…cross pathsat some point."
I hide my amusement as she watches me button the flannel. I don't miss the way her eyes linger on my chest before I cover it up.
"Try not to cut your leg off before then," I say, nodding toward her abandoned axe. "The rescue team hates unnecessary callouts."
"I'll do my best."
I turn to head back toward my cabin, then pause and look over my shoulder.
"Oh, and Brooke?"
"Yeah?"
"When you meet the Mountain Rescue coordinator tomorrow?" I let myself grin, just a little. "Don't mention the wood-chopping thing. He's got a pretty low tolerance for incompetence."
