Page 39 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"You want to come with me?" I ask impulsively. "Take your mind off things for a while?"
She looks surprised by the offer. "To work?"
"To fix Chase's latest disaster, yes. Might be interesting if you've never seen a snowmobile engine up close."
For a moment, she hesitates, and I think she's going to say no. Then she looks down at the photos in her lap, back up at me, and sighs.
"Sure. Why not. Just let me grab my jacket."
She disappears inside for a minute and comes back wearing a thick winter coat over a top that clings to her body. When she climbs into my truck, the coat falls open, and I catch a glimpse of the V-neck cutting low enough to show the soft swell of her breasts.
Amplebreasts.
The drive to the station takes fifteen minutes, and I spend most of it trying not to reach over and rest my hand on her thigh.
She's curled in the passenger seat, humming softly along to the radio like she doesn't realize she's doing it, and all I can think about is whether touching her would be crossing a line, or if that kiss earlier gives me the right to casual intimacy.
Casual intimacy? Who the hell am I?
The Mountain Rescue station at night is a different beast entirely. Emergency lighting makes everything a blue-white glow, and the banks of monitors tracking weather patterns, emergency frequencies, and GPS coordinates hum in the main hub.
This place is beautiful in a way most people wouldn't understand. All that technology working together to keep people safe… that's what my life is all about.
Brooke follows me inside and we find Knox hunched over one of the snowmobiles in the garage bay, tools scattered around him like surgical instruments. Chase sits nearby looking appropriately guilty, a coffee mug in his hands and grease streaked across his forehead.
"Well, well," Knox grins when he sees us walk in. "Brought backup, did you?"
"Brought someone who might actually know the difference between maintenance and sabotage," I reply, shooting Chase a look that makes him wince.
"It was an accident," Chase protests. "I was just trying to—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand. "Just... don't. Show me what you did."
While I examine the engine—which Chase has somehow managed to flood while simultaneously disconnecting half the electrical system—I'm aware of Brooke moving around the garage, asking Knox questions about the equipment, the rescue's he's done and how everything works together at night.
"This is so cool," she says, eyes glowing with excitement as she runs her fingers along the sleek body of the second snowmobile. Thenotfucked one. "How fast do they go?"
"Fast enough," Knox replies with a grin. "Jamie here can make these things fly across the snow like they're on rails. Does jumps on mounds of snow and all. Crazy bastard."
I glance up to find Brooke looking at me, and something warm unfurls in my chest. She's not just being polite. She actually thinks this is interesting.
"I'll teach you to ride one," I call out across the room. "After you get the hang of mountain driving, I'll take you to the best spot."
She beams so bright I feel like a fucking champion for bringing that look to her face. "I'd like that."
It takes an hour to fix Chase's mess, but having Brooke there makes the work go faster.
She hands me tools when I ask, asks intelligent questions about the engine mechanics, compares it to surgery one too many times, and doesn't flinch when I have to get creative with my language regarding Chase's mechanical skills.
"There," I finally say, wiping my hands on a rag as the engine purrs to life. I shoot a hard glare across to Chase who hasn't moved a fucking inch the entire time. "Try not to break it again before morning."
"No promises," Chase grins, but he looks relieved that he won't have to explain to the town council why we don't have operational rescue vehicles.
Knox claps me on the shoulder. "Thanks for coming in, Strike. We owe you one."
"I mean what I said. You owe me breakfast for a month," I correct. "Both of you."
The drive back to our cabins is quiet, comfortable in a way that surprises me. Brooke sits curled in the passenger seat, stillclutching that purple mug like a talisman, and I can feel some of the tension from earlier melting away.
