Page 85 of Wrecked on the Mountain
Jamie
I lean against the doorframe of Chloe's bakery smiling.
Actually.
Not smiling… fuckingbeaming.
Because Brooke stands behind the counter of my sister's bakery like she's worked here her entire life, despite the fact that she doesn't work here at all.
She's wearing one of Chloe's vintage aprons, the one with tiny strawberries that my sister refuses to let anyone else touch because it's 'too delicate'. Her hair is twisted into the usual messy bun, but today it's got a pencil stuck through it, and there's a streak of flour across her left cheek that she obviously hasn't noticed yet.
She's absolutely fucking perfect.
"Those maple scones are Chloe's specialty," Brooke tells Sheriff Cooper, sliding his usual order across the marblecountertop. "Jamie says they're better than his mom's, butoh pleasedon't tell her I said that."
Sam Cooper's weathered face breaks into a rare grin. The man who never cracks a smile for anyone is practically beaming at my girlfriend.
"Well, I'll be damned. You're fitting right in," he says, accepting his coffee and scone. "Jamie's lucky to have found you."
Found her.
Like she was meant to be here all along, just waiting for me to stumble across her.
Sheriff Cooper leaves and I stay watching Brooke chat with Mrs. Jenkins about her grandson's soccer season. It's then that I realize she's not just visiting Stone River anymore. She's woven herself into the fabric of this place so completely that I can't imagine it without her.
Which is exactly what scares the hell out of me.
"Morning, ladies," I say, finally pushing off the doorframe. "Are you planning on stealing my girlfriend all day, Chloe?"
My sister grins at me from behind the espresso machine, where she's creating some elaborate latte art for the tourists who just wandered in from the ski lodge.
"She's a natural," Chloe declares. "I'm thinking of offering her a job."
Brooke laughs, tapping at the screen as she processes the payment of yet another maple scone flying out the door. "I've got enough jobs, thanks. But Piper's going to die when she tastes these."
She gestures to the collection of treats she's assembled on the counter behind her. Cinnamon rolls the size of dinner plates, maple scones that could convert a diabetic, and those chocolate croissants Chloe makes that food bloggers drive for hours to taste.
"Jamie, try this," Brooke says, breaking off a piece of something that looks like it belongs in a Parisian café.
I open my mouth automatically, and she feeds me the pastry with the kind of casual intimacy that makes Mrs. Jenkins actually sigh and make heart eyes behind us.
The flavor hits my tongue like a bomb. Butter and honey and a decent whack of childhood mornings at the Striker residence. It's seriously good, but all I can focus on is the way Brooke's thumb brushes a crumb from my lower lip afterward.
"Good?" she asks.
"Perfect," I manage, though I'm not talking about the pastry anymore.
Chloe clears her throat pointedly. "Get a room, you two."
She's smiling when she says it, and I catch her shooting Brooke an approving look when she thinks I'm not watching.
My sister likes her. Hell, my whole family likes her. The entire town has basically adopted her as one of their own in the span of three weeks.
Which is why Piper's visit has me twisted in knots I can't untangle.
What if Brooke's best friend takes one look at this place and reminds her what she's giving up in Chicago? What if all those big-city opportunities start looking appealing again when she's confronted with someone from her old life?
What if I lose her just when I'm realizing I can't live without her?
