Chapter 5 #2
Travis follows, eyeing our burgers with the intensity of a sommelier judging wine. "Burger-to-bun ratio looks solid tonight. Charlie's glaze application is the best I've ever seen."
"Get your own," I say, slapping Knox's hand away from my plate.
He somehow manages to steal three fries anyway. "So, Morrison, you finally stopped pretending you're not domesticated."
"I'm not domesticated."
Seriously, I'm not.
I literally ate cereal out of the box for dinner three nights last week. And I used a rescue rope as a belt yesterday because I couldn't find my actual belt.
Travis steals a pickle from the now communal plate. "You bought her a compass bookmark today."
Piper chokes on her drink. "How does everyone already know that?"
Knox pipes up, shrugging his shoulders. "Etta told Mabel, who told Martha, who told literally everyone at the station. When Jamie found out, he pissed his pants he laughed so hard."
Piper flashes a wide-eyed look my way.
"Welcome to Stone River," I mutter. "Population: two thousand nosy people and one bartender who knows everything."
"I resent that," Charlie calls from behind the bar, not even looking up. "Almost everything."
Travis snorts. "Evening, Charlie. You hear this joker labeled his Tupperware? I saw it with my own eyes at lunch the other day."
Piper's laugh bubbles over, and she leans into my shoulder. "You know… back home, my mother usually schedules my social life. Here, I'm starting to think Charlie holds that role."
Charlie appears as if summoned, setting down two huge beers for the guys. "Perhaps. But I'm cheaper than any fancy city schmuck, and my fries are better too."
"True. My mom prefers 'suitable suitors' to burgers," Piper says, voice light but edged with something sharp. "I've always said she's allergic to fun."
I slide my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Then we'll be your antihistamine."
Knox fake-gags. "Gross."
Travis raises his beer. "To antihistamine heroes!"
We all drink, and I beam across the table to Piper.
This is my pack. My place.
And having Piper here, laughing with my friends, fitting into the chaos like she was always meant to be part of it… it's everything.
But that 'suitable suitor' comment nips back at me.
Would I ever qualify? Mountain rescue specialist with a failed military record and a studio apartment doesn't exactly scream country club approved.
I'm not in that world. Never have been, never will be.
Isn't that why Mom left? Packed up Lily and moved to Germany in the hope to find a man who could give them more? Better schools, better opportunities, a better life than some kid working construction jobs could provide.
I wasn't enough then.
Why would I be enough now?
Piper's laughing at something Travis said, her hand resting on my thigh casually. Like I belong in her orbit.
But I don't.
She's designer coats and trust funds and a nursing degree from some fancy university I couldn't even afford to tour. I'm second-hand flannel and a military discharge that still burns like shame in my chest.
Her parents probably summer in the Hamptons.
I bring gummy bears to work because they remind me of playing with my sister.
This weekend thing? It's perfect for her. No commitment, no expectations, no having to explain to Mommy and Daddy why she's slumming it with a rescue tech who washed out of basic training.
Just fun.
Temporary.
Enough for now.
But never enough to stay.
Then Piper steals my pickle, grins like it's the best thing she's ever tasted, and all my insecurities quiet down again.
She chose me this weekend.
That's enough.
It has to be.
"Dance with me," Piper says suddenly, eyes bright with Charlie's cocktails.
"You want to dance? Here?" I gesture toward the jukebox, which is currently playing something twangy and upbeat.
"Scared, Morrison?"
Piper waggles her brows at me. Knox and Travis exchange looks that promise endless future torment back at the station this week.
"Fuck," I groan, sliding a hand down my face.
But before I can redirect toward the dart board or pool table, or some other safer territory where I can pretend to be cool, Piper rises onto her toes, fists my shirt in both hands, and kisses me like the entire room doesn't exist.
Around us, the tavern erupts.
Hollers and whistles and Knox's dramatic gasp of "Oh my God, I see her tongue!" fill the air. Charlie rings a little bell from behind the bar like it's New Year's Eve.
But I don't hear any of it.
All I register is Piper's mouth. Warm and whiskey-sweet. Her fingers twisted in my flannel. The way she melts against me like she's been doing this her whole life.
When she finally pulls back, her lipstick is smudged and her smile is pure sunshine.
My heart does full golden retriever zoomies in my chest.
I want her in my bed tonight.
I file this moment away under proof she chooses me, then gently tuck it into the future I'm not allowed to plan yet because of our stupid rules.
"Okay, okay, okay…" Knox fans himself with a menu. "I need a moment. That was beautiful."
"Get a room," Travis deadpans, throwing back the remainder of his beer.
Charlie leans against the bar, arms crossed. "That counts as mushy. You heard what I said, lovebirds. Jukebox slow dance is now mandatory."
"Fine," I say, standing and offering Piper my hand. "But I'm picking the song."
I feed quarters into the jukebox and scroll until I find something slow and sweet.
Eventually, I find an old country ballad about mountain roads and coming home.
I listened to it endlessly while training to achieve my dream of becoming a proud soldier.
A dream that never happened because I was too scared. Too afraid to push past the hard bits.
When I turn back, Piper's already swaying, eyes half-closed, completely unselfconscious.
Tipsy, but still… utterly beautiful.
I pull her close, hands settling at her waist, and she rests her cheek against my chest.
We sway together while the tavern pretends not to watch. Knox whispers something to Travis. Charlie polishes glasses with a smile, singing along to the words.
This is what belonging feels like.
Not just being part of the rescue team or the town, but being chosen by someone who sees you. Sees you, and decides you're worth keeping.
Ask her to come home with you, idiot. Take her back, make her scream your name again.
But I’m not the guy who drags a woman home and hopes for the best. Last night… that was all her. The sight of seeing her best friend happy, I know us being together was a case of right place, right time.
I could be brave and ask. I could throw her over my shoulder and carry her up the fire escape myself, stripping my clothes off and making her laugh with my endless antics all over again.
Or I could be careful and keep her.
Because that's what I normally do. The safe thing.
The song ends too soon.
Piper shivers slightly, and I realize the fire's warmth doesn't reach the dance floor. Without thinking, I shrug off my jacket and settle it around her shoulders.
She burrows into it immediately, pulling the collar up to her nose and inhaling.
"Mmmmm… Smells like you," she murmurs, a slight slur on her lips.
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Really good."
We say our goodbyes, with Knox promising to never let me live this down, then we're outside in the cool mountain air, stars scattered across the dark sky.
I lace my fingers through Piper's, tucking our joined hands into my jacket pocket.
"Thanks for today. It was perfect," she says softly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Your friends are great. Charlie's burgers are life-changing. And that kiss…" She trails off, cheeks pink.
"The kiss was all you, Chicago."
"I know. I'm very bold when I've had whiskey."
We walk slowly, taking the long route back to Brooke's cabin where she's staying. Neither of us mentions that we could go to my place instead. That she could stay with me again.
Maybe she doesn't want that. Maybe when she leaves all of this will be forgotten.
The rules hang between us like invisible walls.
But Friends With Benefits means exactly that, right? We can spend the night together. I can have her in my bed. I can tell her how amazing she is, and that I never want her to leave.
But my hand is in hers, and she's wearing my jacket, and I'm already planning what we'll do tomorrow before she has to leave.
Maybe the sunrise hike to Lookout Point, or the farmers market, or just coffee and lazy morning conversation.
At her door, she turns to face me, still wrapped in my jacket.
"See you in the morning, Mountain Man?"
I look at her, trying to read her expression. Does she want this to end? Or does she want more too?
I cup her face in both hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "Wouldn't miss it."
The kiss is slower this time. Deeper. Tasting like honey and chocolate and promises neither of us is allowed to make.
When we finally break apart, she's breathless and beautiful and dammit, I want to ask her to stay. Not just for tonight, but forever. To forget Chicago. To build something real instead of pretending weekends might be enough.
But I don't.
Because I'm not enough for someone like her.
I'm the guy who labels Tupperware and brings gummy bears to work and gets teased for being the team's pushover.
She's sophisticated. Brilliant. From a world where I don't belong.
So I kiss her forehead, watch her slip inside, and walk home alone.