Page 18 of Broken on the Mountain
Chase tucks a tiny purple bloom behind my ear, then pulls out his phone to snap a selfie.
"For the evidence file," he says, but his cheeks go pink when he realizes how sentimental that sounds.
"Evidence of what?"
"That Piper Whitman knows how to have fun."
We lie back on the blanket, shoulder to shoulder, watching clouds drift across an impossibly blue sky.
This could be a life, I think suddenly.
Not just a weekend escape, but an actual life. Friday afternoon drives to meadows. Impromptu picnics. A man who carries gummy bears and compass bookmarks and looks at me like I'm something precious.
But then reality crashes in like ice water.
This isn't my life.
This is a weekend fantasy. A temporary escape from calendar invites and charity galas and parents who've already chosen my entire future.
Even if I come back on weekends, this will never truly be mine. I'll always be the outsider. The city girl playing dress-up in borrowed flannels and pretending I know the difference between lupines and fireweed.
"Dinner at Timber?" Chase asks, shouldering his backpack.
His smile is pure sunshine, and I'm already addicted to being the reason for it.
"Burgers are looking good," I say, echoing Charlie's promise from earlier.
Soon, I'll board a plane back to Chicago. Back to my penthouse and twelve-hour shifts and the suffocating weight of my parents' ridiculous expectations.
Chase will go back to rescuing people who belong here. People who understand mountain life and don't need compass bookmarks because they already know their 'true north'.
We head down the trail laughing about something ridiculous, I can't even remember what. All I know is my mind is a million miles from Chicago, from calendar invites and suitable marriage prospects and the life waiting for me back home.
And these feelings… this dangerous, terrifying warmth blooming in my chest… it will fade like wildflowers at the end of summer.
No catching feelings.
I need to remember that.
Before I do something stupid.
Like fall for a man I can never truly have.
Chapter Five
Chase
Timber Tavern is alive tonight, and after the day I've had with Piper, I'm practically floating through the door.
The room glows with hundreds of fairy lights strung across rough-hewn beams, the massive stone fireplace crackling with flames that send heat roaring across well-worn leather booths.
I take off my coat and help Piper out of hers, hanging them on the rack by the door. The jukebox hums something low and soulful in the corner, barely loud enough to be heard over the laughter coming from the direction of the dartboard, and the sharp crack of pool balls connecting.
This place is home.
Not my apartment where I'm mostly alone, buthere.
Where Charlie knows my order before I sit down, where the guys razz me about everything from my hiking boots to my taste in music, where Sunday nights feel like the family dinners I never had.
