Page 56 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"Right," Knox snorts from where he's leaning against the high-top table, working on his third beer. "And I'm the King of England. You've been smiling for three straight days, Strike. It's unsettling."
"He's right. And we don't like it," Travis says, stroking his beard with one hand.
Another ball slides into the pocket, and I straighten, taking another sip of what might be the best beer I've ever tasted.
Everything tastes better when you're getting laid regularly by a woman who makes sounds like heaven itself is breaking open. It's like my whole body's tuned to a different frequency now. I feel more alive, more aware of every sensation that passes through it.
The smooth glide of cold beer down my throat, the freeing weight of the pool cue in my hands on a weeknight, the lingering ghost of Brooke's fingertips against my skin from this morning… all of it magnified into something almost unbearably good.
"You all need to shut the fuck up. Maybe I'm just in a good mood," I say, circling the table to find my next shot.
"Good mood," Travis repeats slowly, smirking. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Calling what?"
Knox and Beau exchange looks that make me want to throw something at both of their giant fucking heads.
"Nothing," Travis says innocently. "Just wondering how Dr. Shields is settling in. You know,professionallyspeaking."
The way he emphasizes "professionally" makes my jaw clench, but I force myself to stay casual.
"She's doing fine. Good instincts in the field. Did well the other day in a tight spot. We got ourselves a quick learner."
"Quick learner," Beau mutters under his breath and misses his shot by a mile. He steps back with the kind of irritation that makes his left eye twitch. He hates losing to me. I've been beating his ass at pool since we were on tour. "That's one way to put it."
I look up sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just seems like she's learning the ropes pretty fast. Integrating well with the team."
There's something in his tone that I don't like, but before I can call him on it, Knox jumps in.
"Speaking of integration," Knox says with a grin that spells trouble, "Betty mentioned Dr. Shields was asking about local hiking trails. Seemed real interested in the area."
"And Linda saw her at the general store buying actual groceries," Travis adds helpfully. "Not just the tourist stuff. Real food. Like she's planning to cook."
"Cook," I repeat flatly, picturing her in her kitchen in nothing but those sexy panties I peel off her with my teeth.
"In a kitchen," Knox clarifies. "You know, like people do when they're planning to stick around for a while."
The guys are having way too much fun with this, but underneath the teasing, there's something that makes my chest warm.
Because they're right.
Brookehasbeen settling in. Really settling in.
Three days ago, after we'd finished thoroughly desecrating my desk, she'd gone home to shower and change. I'd expected thingsto be awkward the next day. Maybe some professional distance while we figured out what the hell we were doing.
Instead, she'd shown up at the station with coffee and homemade breakfast burritos, kissed me good morning like it was the most natural thing in the world, and proceeded to charm the entire team while learning to operate our communication equipment.
That night, she'd come over while I was fixing a broken cabinet door and we'd ended up on my kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around my waist while I proved that horizontal surfaces weren't the only places I could make her scream my name.
Last night, she'd invited me to her cabin for dinner. Nothing fancy—just pasta and wine and Brooke in a sundress.
Asundress.
In Stone River Mountain.
The woman is perfect!
