Page 74 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"Not really," I admit. "I thought I would, but... I like it here. I like the pace. The people. The way everyone knows everyone."
"The way everyone knows everyone's business, you mean," Chloe corrects with a laugh.
"That too," I grin. "It's actually kind of nice, having people care enough to be nosy."
"Just wait until you've been here long enough for Etta and Mabel to start planning your wedding," Maya warns. "Those two have opinions about everything."
"Maya," Sandra scolds, but she's smiling.
"What? I'm just preparing her. Remember what they did to poor Sean? Had our entire wedding planned before he even proposed."
"It was a beautiful wedding," Zoe points out.
"Because they have excellent taste. But still."
Under the table, Jamie's thumb strokes across my thigh, and when I glance at him, there's something soft and hopeful in his expression that makes my heart stutter.
"More wine?" he asks quietly, and I nod, needing something to do with my hands.
As he refills my glass, his fingers brush mine, and the simple contact sends electricity shooting up my arm. Even surrounded by his family, even in the middle of dinner conversation, my body responds to him like he's the only person in the room.
"Mrs. Striker, you'll have to give me your recipe for the lamb. It's incredible."
"Mom's secret is the garlic paste she rubs under the skin," Maya explains. "She guards that recipe like state secrets."
"But I'll share it with you," Sandra says, patting my hand. "Family recipe."
She winks at me and suddenly I'm fighting back tears for reasons I can't even name.
"Thank you," I manage, voice thick.
After dinner, while the women clear the table and argue good-naturedly about who's doing dishes, Jamie pulls me onto the back porch with two mugs of coffee and a huge slice of his mother's famous apple pie.
"Needed some air?" he asks, settling beside me on the porch swing.
"Needed you," I admit, curling into his side. "Your family is amazing. Thank you for bringing me here."
"They like you." He presses a kiss to my temple and I melt further into his warm, strong arms.
"And how do you feel about that?"
"Terrified," he says honestly. "Because it means they think you're staying."
I tilt my head to look at him. "And what do you think?"
"I think," he says carefully, "that I want you to stay more than I've ever wanted anything. But I also know you have a life in Chicago. A career. Things I can't compete with."
The vulnerability in his voice breaks something open in my chest.
"Jamie," I say softly, reaching up to cup his face. "What if I told you I don't want you to compete with Chicago? What if I told you that being here, with you, whether it's for three months or three years, feels more like home than anywhere I've ever lived?"
His eyes search mine, like he's looking for cracks in my conviction. "Brooke..."
"Yeah?"
"Let's get out of here. That dress has been driving me nuts all night."
Chapter Sixteen
