Page 102 of Broken on the Mountain
"Ah yes. The mountains, wasn't it?" His tone suggests mountains rank somewhere between sewage treatment and jury duty. "I'm sure that was... rustic."
Rustic.
I think about Chase's apartment with the creaky floors and the secondhand furniture and the drawer he labeledWeekend Occupancy Only.I still can't believe he cleared that just for me.
I think about Fox Hollow Lodge, where we soaked in a hot tub under the stars and he told me about his sister and his mother and the parts of himself he keeps hidden from everyone else.
And the night at Lone Pine Lookout, where firelight guided us together and he made love to me like I was something precious.
"Very rustic," I say.
Maxwell guides me through the crowd, stopping every few feet to shake hands with someone important. A state senator. A tech CEO. The head of some foundation I'm supposed to care about.
I smile. I nod. I say the right things at the right times.
This is what you're good at,a voice whispers in my head.This is what you were trained for.
After another round of dull conversations where I smile and agreewaytoo quickly, a waiter offers champagne. I take a flute because my hands need something to do.
Across the ballroom, I catch sight of Mom holding court near the auction tables. She's wearing Chanel and pearls and the smile she reserves for people she needs something from.
When she spots me with Maxwell, her expression shifts. She smiles, actuallysmilesat me, the barest hint of pride flashing across her face.
Maxwell's hand settles at the small of my back, possessive in a way that makes my shoulders tense as he leads me away from a local politician and his wife.
"Piper, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of bidding on the Napa Valley wine country package," he says. "Thought we might enjoy a weekend away. Get to know each other better."
The presumption in his voice makes my teeth clench.
A weekend away? With him?!
I think about what I'd be doing right now if I were in Stone River.
Saturday night. Seven o'clock.
Chase would probably be just getting ready to go out. He'd be wearing those jeans that hug his ass and a crisp fresh flannel, probably the one I tell him always brings out the green in his eyes.
We'd head to Timber Tavern, where Charlie would have our usual booth ready and he would 'accidentally' send over extra fries.
Knox and Travis would show up, right on cue as always, probably with some ridiculous story about something that happened at the station this week. Jamie and Brooke might join us, and we'd all crowd into that booth that's definitely too small, laughing over burgers and beer that costs three dollars instead of thirty.
Later, Chase would walk me home through streets lit by fairy lights instead of chandeliers. He'd kiss me against the door of his apartment, all heat and hunger, then he'd take me inside and press me against the cold tiles of his shower, water streaming over us while he worships every inch of my body like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
Not because I'm elegant.
Not because I'm suitable.
Because I'mhis.
"Piper?"
Maxwell's voice cuts through the memory.
"Sorry, what?"
"I asked if you'd like to dance now." He's already steering me toward the floor, where couples sway to a string quartet playing something classical and boring.
I let him lead because fighting would draw attention.
