Page 12 of Broken on the Mountain
"You like it here," Chase assumes, side-eyeing me.
I nod. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you look like you just got your eyesight back," Chase says, grinning at whatever expression I'm wearing.
"It's just..." I gesture helplessly at everything. "Beautiful. Like a mountain bear just wandered down the mountains and threw up rainbows everywhere."
"Wait until you see it during tourist season." He laughs, that warm sound that makes my stomach flip. "Less bear vomit. Less magical."
"How so?"
"Well, consider it more like a parking lot with mountain views."
"Please don't ruin my fantasy."
"What fantasy is that?"
I take another sip of Betty's liquid heaven, thinking about my life back home. About my stale penthouse apartment, the time-sucking daily commute to work, the constant pressure from my parents to livetheirlife.
I take a long deep breath and sigh.
"That places like this actually exist. That people live here and wake up to..." I wave at the mountains. "Thisview."
"Every day." He stops walking and studies me. "You really don't get out much, do you?"
"Hey, I get out plenty."
Just usually to places with valet parking and wine lists longer than my arm.
"See that building with the blue shutters?" Chase points to a charming storefront with a hand-painted sign readingMountain Memories Antiques. "Used to be a taxidermy shop called 'Stuff This.' The owner, Earl, would sit outside with his latest creation… usually a raccoon holding a tiny fishing pole or something equally disturbing."
I nearly choke on my hot chocolate. "You're kidding."
"Dead serious. And yes, that pun was intended." His eyes crinkle with that gorgeous smile of his. "But I missed the golden era by about six months. Now it's all vintage teacups and doilies, which is apparently better for property values or some shit."
"And what happened to Earl?"
"Retired to Florida. Left behind a legacy of traumatized tourists and one very angry moose head that nobody wanted to buy." Chase crouches down and points toward the mountains, going all dramatic as he whispers, "Legend has it, it's still up there somewhere, plotting its revenge."
I'm laughing so hard I have to stop walking. There's something magnetic about the way this man tells stories. He makes this place come alive with his enthusiasm.
"You've only been here two years and you already have all the town folklore memorized?"
"The team at the Rescue Station are a walking historical society. You should meet them one day."
I get a whiff of his cologne on the cool gush of wind that passes and the smell alone makes me want to press my face against his neck.
Get it together, Whitman. You literally just signed a napkin contract thirty minutes ago.
But my body hasn't gotten the memo about keeping things casual. When he leans over to point out something across the street, his voice rumbles against my ear and suddenly, it's like I've forgotten how sidewalks work.
No wonder Brooke fell in love here. No wonder she never wanted to come back to Chicago.
"I've met them briefly, but I'd love to hang out one weekend."
Chase smiles, and my stomach does that stupid fluttery thing again.
What am I doing?
