Page 9 of Broken on the Mountain
"Rule one," Piper announces, ignoring me completely. "Weekends Only."
"For clarification purposes," I interrupt, pointing my fork at her, "is that Chicago time? Or Stone River time? Because time zones matter, Whitman."
She stares at me with a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth.
"Stone River time. So Monday through Friday, you do…" She waves a hand vaguely in my direction. "Mountain man hero things. I do nurse things back in Chicago."
"Got it." I nod gravely. "Hero things. Saving kittens from trees. Resolving bar fights. The usual."
Her smile widens, warming me more than the hot chocolate. "Exactly. Rule two: No strings." She writes it with a decisive flourish. Then pauses, her pen hovering. "Except honesty," she adds, softer now. "No ghosting. That's just cruel. If it stops being fun, we say so."
The casualness of her words lands like a punch. Once again, it's'No strings. Temporary. Disposable.'
But this woman is too goddamn beautiful to pass up a chance at changing all of that.
"Deal," I say, holding my nerve. "No ghosting, Chicago."
Even when you realize I'm not enough.
She writes 'HONESTY' in all caps and underlines it twice.
"Rule three: Keep it fun and low drama. There’s enough of that in my life already." She taps the pen against the napkin. "Consider this just… recreational cardio."
A bark of laughter escapes me. "Recreational cardio? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"Fine. Rule four," I counter, leaning in. Her perfume wraps around me, spurring me on. "Public flirting permitted."
"Agreed. And lastly, rule five," Piper adds, pen hovering. "No catching feelings. This is purely physical."
"Wouldn’t dream of it, Chicago."
Lie. The biggest lie I’ve told since I said ‘I’m fine’ after Mom’s postcard.
Piper chuckles and slides the napkin toward me. "Perfect. Sign here, Mountain Man."
I take the pen and scribble my name with a flourish. Before handing it back, I hover the pen over the dot on the 'i' in her signature.Piper Whitman.
I turn the two dots into a tiny cute hearts and slide the napkin back.
She doesn't say anything, just stares at the hearts until a sudden crash shatters the moment.
Over by the kitchen door, the teenager Betty hired last week juggles a wobbling tower of dirty plates. They teeter, gravity winning the battle until I’m out of the booth without thinking.
"Whoa there, Sam," I say, easily taking half the load from his trembling arms. "Need a hand?"
My hand shoots out, steadying the top plates just before the whole stack avalanches onto the floor.
The poor kid blushes as the entire café watches on. "Thanks, Chase. Slippery fingers."
"No problem." I dump the plates onto the wait station counter. "Try balancing them like this next time."
I quickly rearrange the remaining stack into a more stable formation, removing the forks and spoons layered between the plates and putting everything off balance.
"Center the heaviest plates, light stuff on top. Build a solid base."
Sam nods, eyes wide with gratitude. "Got it. Solid base. Thanks man."
