Page 16 of Broken on the Mountain
Soon, Chase climbs the spiral staircase ahead of me, muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he balances two steaming mugs without spilling a drop.
I watch him settle into the reading nook, all long limbs and infectious confidence, sunlight catching the green in his eyes.
Have I ever bagged someone this hot?
My sexual trophy case of past conquests suddenly looks pathetic. Corporate lawyers with soft hands don't compare to mountain rescue specialists with calluses andactualheroism.
The loft is everything a book lover's dream should be—a cozy nook with slanted ceilings, built-in bookshelves, and a window seat overlooking Main Street.
Chase settles beside me on the cushioned bench, close enough that our thighs press together, and opens the wildflower guide between us.
"'Finding your true north,'" he reads from the introduction, his voice taking on an exaggerated narrator tone, "'isn't just about navigation. It's about discovering the landscape that calls to your soul.'"
We trade a look that's half laugh, half something much more dangerous.
"That's very philosophical for a flower book," I say.
"Mountain wisdom. We're deep like that."
I lean against his shoulder to get a better look at the photographs, and his free arm comes around me automatically. I sink further into his warmth.
This feels too easy, too right. Like we've been doing this for years instead of…hours?
"Tell me about Chicago," he says, turning pages slowly. "What's a typical day like?"
I think about my actual life.
The 5 AM alarm, the protein smoothie I drink while reviewing patient charts, the constant scheduled social events that feel more like networking than fun.
"It's busy. Structured. My mother sends calendar invites for family dinners three weeks in advance."
"Calendar invites? For dinner?"
"You bet." I smile, but it matches the fake ones I see across the table at those family dinners. "With agenda items. Last month's theme was 'Suitable Marriage Prospects in Healthcare.'"
Chase's laugh rumbles through his chest. "Did you RSVP with feedback?"
"I suggested we table the discussion indefinitely."
His thumb rubs circles on my hip, and I have to concentrate on not melting into a puddle of hormones and bookshop-scented air.
"What about you?" I ask. "Something tells me quiet coffee and flower books aren't exactly a typical Chase Morrison day?"
He chuckles deeply, making my body bounce against his. "Nah, not exactly. During the week, it's equipment checks, training drills… hoping nobody needs rescuing but staying ready in case they do."
"Yeah, yeah. You're a professional hero. I get it."
His grin widens as we share a laugh. "Weekends are better though. Hanging with the guys. Jamie, Beau, whoever's around. We eat too much, drink beer, give each other shit about everything."
"Sounds exhausting."
His voice softens as he shrugs. "It's perfect. But I try to get out on the trails when I can. Staying connected to nature… it matters, you know? Reminds me why I'm here instead of…"
He trails off, but I catch the shadow that crosses his face.
"Instead of where?"
"Anywhere else." He turns another page of the wildflower guide, but his jaw tightens. "This place saved me. Gave me purpose when I needed it most."
