Page 42 of Wrecked on the Mountain
Piper would have a fit if she heard this. She's Tay-Tay's biggest fan.
Me? Not so much.
Even less now.
The man is completely tone-deaf and doesn't care even a little bit.
I stretch, working out the kinks from sleeping on a couch for the first time since, well… I don't know when. I rub my eyes and glance toward the windows. The sun is hitting the fresh snow outside, making everything glisten like a winter wonderland, and—
Oh shit.
The sun.
Therisensun.
The sunrise we were supposed to watch together at his special spot!
"FUCK!" I bolt upright, the blanket falling to the floor as I scramble off the couch like the leather is on fire. "Jamie! WE MISSED IT! We missed—"
A tremendous crash comes from the kitchen, followed by a string of profanity that would make a sailor proud.
"MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A—"
The sound of metal hitting the floor followed by Jamie's roar of pain cuts through my panic spiral like a chainsaw.
I'm off the couch and running toward the kitchen before my brain fully processes what's happening. When I round the corner, Jamie is clutching his left hand against his chest, the cast iron skillet lying upside down on the floor in a puddle of hot oil, and bacon scattered everywhere like some kind of breakfast crime scene.
"Oh my God, Jamie!" I rush to his side, my medical training kicking in immediately. "Under the water. Now."
Jamie moves to the sink, running cold water over his hand while bacon grease spreads across the floor in a puddle of culinary chaos.
I dodge the oil and meet him at the sink. "Let me see."
"It's fine," he grumbles, but he doesn't pull away when I gently take his hand to examine the burn. "Just startled me when you started swearing like a fucking trucker."
The burn is on the back of his hand, angry red but not severe. Second-degree at worst. I turn on the cold water and guide his hand under the stream, using my other hand to check for blistering.
"Sorry," I say, focusing on his injury. "I just realized we missed the sunrise and I panicked."
I look up to meet his eyes, and he's watching me with that soft expression that makes my heart do stupid things. Even with bacon grease on his thermal shirt and his hair sticking up from sleep, he's devastatingly handsome.
"Sorry for what?" Jamie asks, his voice rough around the edges. "Cursing like a trooper or missing an early wake-up call?"
I glance up at him, and he's watching me with that infuriating smirk that makes my pulse do stupid things.
"Both?"
He huffs a soft laugh, the kind that rumbles in his chest and slides under my skin. "I came out first thing and you were dead to the world. I didn’t have the heart to wake you."
"You should’ve. I said I’d go with you."
He shrugs, his eyes dropping to where my fingers are still wrapped around his hand. "You looked peaceful. Didn’t seem right to drag you out of a warm blanket just so we could go freeze our asses off on a cliffside."
I glance away, trying to hide the way my heart is now launching itself against my ribcage. "Still. I wanted to go."
"I know," he says quietly. "There’ll be a sunrise tomorrow. And the next day."
I smile because it's like he’s already hoping I’ll still be here for the next one. Maybe even the one after that. That's the kind of belief that makes my tummy all warm and gooey inside, much like it did when I was at the festival yesterday, chatting with the locals and enjoying being part of their way of life.
