Page 13 of Broken on the Mountain
Friends with benefits. Weekends only. No strings attached.
I repeat it in my mind again, like a new mantra I've suddenly decided to adopt.
But the thing is… I've never done anything like this in my entire life. But then again, I've done a lot of things unlike me lately.
I came to Stone River with a mission. To convince Brooke to take the head nurse position back in Chicago. Steal my best friend back from this mountain town and return to our perfectly planned lives.
Then I met Jamie Striker and the rescue team.
Then I watched their illustrious leader sweep my best friend off her feet.
Standing at that window in Timber Tavern the night Chase snuck up behind me, watching Jamie look at Brooke like she's everything he's been missing, watching her laugh in that free, unguarded way I'd never seen before.
Something cracked open inside me.
My lonely penthouse. My unfulfilled nursing career that I didn't even choose for myself. The endless society gatherings where Mother parades 'suitable' men in front of me like prize cattle.
Every boring conversation. Every fake smile. Every man who looked at my family's status instead ofme.
They're nothing like Chase.
Nothing.
He's genuine. Enthusiastic. He looks at me like I'm fascinating instead of just well-bred.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
"Wave," Chase says suddenly, lifting his free hand in a lazy salute toward someone across Main Street.
"What? Why? I don't know them."
"So? It's Stone River etiquette. You wave at everyone. Or Betty revokes your breakfast privileges."
"Well in Chicago, that’s how you get followed by a man named Doug who sells counterfeit cologne.” I squint across the street, but I can't even tell who he's waving at. "It seems like a lot of social obligation for before noon."
"Says the woman who probably schedules her smiles in the big city."
"I do not schedule my—" I stop, because he's not entirely wrong. "Okay, fine."
Chase throws back his head and laughs. "You're adorable."
I feel my cheeks heat as a black Labrador trots past with its owner.
"Morning, Morrison! See you at Timber for darts tonight!" The dog-walker says, tipping his head to me too.
Chase throws back another casual salute like he's the unofficial mayor of flannel and good vibes.
"So… like… do you know everyone in this town?"
"Pretty much. Guess it's the curse of being devastatingly charming."
I snort-laugh into my hot chocolate, which is both undignified and completely worth it for the way his eyes crinkle when he grins down at me.
Then he stops walking and turns to face me. "Christ, woman. Wait, you've got—"
He reaches out, and I swear time slows to a ridiculous crawl as his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, collecting a dot of whipped cream from my lip.
"There," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low gravel. His thumb lingers for half a heartbeat longer than necessary, and I'm pretty sure I've stopped breathing entirely.
