Page 97 of Wrecked on the Mountain
"And that," I say, pulling up outside Bear Paw Café, "is where Betty Simmons, born and raised here, makes the best hot chocolate in the world. No joke."
"It'sreallygood," Brooke confirms gleefully.
"Hot chocolate?" Piper perks up like I've just offered her designer drugs. "It's fifty degrees outside and I want hot chocolate. This place really is magical."
The café's front window glows with warm light, and through the glass I can see Betty bustling around behind the counter, probably already preparing some elaborate welcome drink for our out-of-town guest.
The woman has a sixth sense for new visitors, and it's the perfect first stop.
"Come on," Brooke says, reaching for the door handle. "You have to meet Betty. She's basically the unofficial mayor of everyone around here."
I'm about to follow them inside when my phone buzzes against my hip. Not the normal text message buzz either. The emergency ringtone that means Mountain Rescue needs me immediately.
Fuck.
"Striker," I answer, immediately recognizing Martha's voice crackling through the speaker.
"Jamie, we need you at the station. Multi-vehicle accident on the highway just out of town. State patrol is requesting our expertise for traffic control. Knox and Travis are already en route, but they say it's gonna be a lengthy delay and need more hands."
My stomach drops. That highway is notorious for winter accidents—black ice, sharp curves, and a hundred-foot drop-off that turns fender-benders into life-or-death situations.
But the sun is shining today.
Why can't people just drive safely?!
"I'll be right there," I say, slumping my shoulders at the thought of going into work today.
Through the café window, I can see Brooke and Piper already chatting with Betty, their heads together over what's probably the most elaborate hot chocolate presentation in café history.
Brooke's gesturing animatedly, clearly in full "show off my new home" mode, while Piper nods and asks questions like she's genuinely fascinated by small-town café dynamics.
Fucking perfect timing.
Everything was going exactly according to plan. Piper was charmed, Brooke was glowing, and I was successfully proving that Stone River offers everything a sophisticated woman could want.
Now I have to abandon them to handle someone else's emergency.
I climb out of the truck and head toward the café door, rehearsing my apology. Professional responsibility always comes first in my line of work.
Brooke knows that, understands it, respects it.
It's one of the things I love about her.
The bell above the door chimes as I push inside, and three female faces turn toward me with matching expressions of curiosity.
"Let me guess," Brooke says immediately, reading my expression with the accuracy of someone who's spent years in emergency medicine. "Rescue call?"
"Multi-vehicle accident," I confirm, hating the way disappointment flickers across her face. "I'm sorry, I could—"
"Go," she interrupts, already waving me off. "We'll be fine exploring on our own for a few hours."
But I can see the frustration in her eyes. She understands, but she doesn't like it. Neither do I.
"This sucks," I say honestly, glancing between them. "Sorry, Piper. I wanted to show you around personally, introduce you to everyone—"
"Don't worry about us," Piper says, settling onto a stool, a menu flapping in her hands. "Work comes first, right Brooke? It's fine, Jamie. We're used to this, right Brooke?"
Used to this.
