Page 86 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"Speaking of Piper," Brooke says, carefully packing the bakery boxes. "I told her I'd pick her up from the airport on Friday. Her flight lands at two."
"I'll drive you," I say immediately. "That way you can talk without having to worry about the road conditions."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
Brooke's honey-brown eyes search my face like she's reading something I'm not ready to admit yet.
"Everything okay, Mountain Man?"
I force a smile, reaching over to wipe the flour streak from her cheek with my thumb. "Perfect. Just want to meet the famous Piper."
What I really want is one last perfect weekend before I have to share you.
Which is exactly why I've been planning a surprise all morning instead of working. But I need to get Brooke out of here before I can reveal what I've got in store for tonight.
Chloe eventually hands Brooke the final bakery box, tied with ribbon like it's going to appear in some lifestyle TV show.
"Tell your friend she's welcome here anytime," my sister says. "Any friend of Jamie's girlfriend is family."
"Come on," I say, taking the bakery boxes from her hands. "My sister doesn't get you all to herself."
I hold the door open with my boot, balancing the bakery boxes while Brooke steps onto Main Street. The moment she's through the door, I stick my tongue out at Chloe like I'm twelve years old again.
My sister flips me off through the window, grinning.
"What was that about?" Brooke asks, catching my expression as the door swings shut behind us.
"Nothing. Just sibling stuff."
Brooke pulls her jacket tighter, but she's smiling as she takes in the bustling street scene.
We walk down Main Street hand in hand, and I watch every person we pass light up when they see Brooke.
Frank Barrett waves from the hardware store, calling out something about her axe wielding lessons. Betty hollers from Bear Paw Café's window, reminding Brooke about the book club meeting on Thursday. Even grumpy old guy on the park bench,who no one knows the name of, tips his hat when we pass the antique shop.
They don't just tolerate her anymore. Theyclaimher.
She's not the temporary city doctor. She's Brooke. She's ours.
She's mine.
"Piper's going to absolutely die when she sees this place," Brooke says, practically bouncing as we walk. "I want to take her to that waterfall Chase keeps talking about, maybe Timber Tavern for dinner Friday night so she can meet everyone..."
I make a noncommittal sound while scrolling through my phone, trying to calculate drive times to the Cascade Mountain Resort. I've been planning all day. Two hours each way if the roads stay clear. Private spa suites overlooking the valley booked. Couples' massage packages locked in before dinner.
All of it worth every goddamn penny if it reminds Brooke what we have before her best friend starts asking questions about her future.
"...and I thought we could do that scenic drive you mentioned, the one that goes past all those old mining towns..."
"Mmhmm. Sounds perfect."
Brooke stops walking so abruptly I nearly trip over my own boots.
"Okay. What's going on?" She crosses her arms, studying my face with those intelligent eyes. "You're plotting something. I can tell because you get this little crease right here—" She reaches up to touch the spot between my eyebrows. "—when you're planning military-level logistics."
Busted.
