Page 25 of Wrecked on the Mountain
That's the part that scares me most. The raw hunger I saw flash across his face before he caught himself. Before he switched back to being my boss, lecturing me about proper mountain gear.
He resumed being all grumpy and irritated, and of course, Istillfound that arousing.
Seriously, something about this man is making me want to bend over and let him do whatever he wants to me.
And I'veneverfelt that way before. Not with anyone.
This raw, highly-sexual need to surrender control completely. To a man I barely know but somehow trust with my body.
"Brooke," Piper says, and her voice has gone soft. "That's not just nice. That's... that's somebody falling for you."
"It's been three days!"
"Sometimes that's all it takes. Besides, didn't you spend your first day there ogling him through a fence while he chopped wood? Sounds like the attraction is mutual."
"I don't ogle."
"You absolutely ogle. I've seen you do it. Remember that firefighter at the hospital Christmas party? You stared at his ass for twenty minutes."
"That was medical research."
"Sure it was." I can hear her grinning through the phone. "So what are you going to do about Mountain Man?"
"His name is Jamie. And nothing. I'm going to do nothing. This is probably just... small-town hospitality. You don't get it… these mountain people are nice. They probably leave care packages for everyone."
"Uh-huh. And the hand-drawn map to his secret sunrise spot?"
"...Standard welcome package?"
"You are being an idiot," Piper continues. "This man, who by the way you described as looking like a lumberjack fantasy come to life, has noticed that you were cold and under-prepared. So he bought you expensive gear in your favorite color and shared something personal with you. That's not hospitality. That's courtship."
"Courtship." I snort. "What is this, 1850?"
"Fine. That's him wanting to get in your pants while also taking care of you. Which, might I add, is exactly what you need right now."
"I don't need anyone to take care of me."
"Brooke. Honey. You called me three months ago crying because you'd been living on vending machine food and hadn't slept more than four hours a night in weeks. When's the last time someone bought you something just because they wanted you to be comfortable?"
The question hits harder than it should.
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because..." I trail off, staring at the purple mug. "Because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be someone who gets thoughtful gifts. I'm the person who works sixteen-hour shifts and eats protein bars for dinner."
"Maybe it's time to try being her."
"Piper—"
"I'm serious. You've spent the last ten years taking care of everyone else. Maybe it's time to let someone take care of you for a change."
There's a long pause where I just breathe into the phone, looking at all the evidence of Jamie's thoughtfulness spread everywhere.
"So, you're going to see the sunrise, right?" Piper's voice takes on that mischievous tone I know too well.
"I don't know. Maybe."
