Chapter 2
Jake
I shouldn’t go back.
That’s the first thought I have after I walk away from her food truck.
I don’t go back. I don’t hover. I especially don’t check on women I just met because they make good cinnamon buns and their smile makes my heart stop.
I head to my office, grateful for the heat.
I look over some contracts, read a few emails, and do whatever I can to get the curvy fireball I just met out of my head.
When I can’t take it any longer, I grab my phone and call Dean.
I saw him earlier with Harper at her bookstore, watching my exchange with Madison.
He answers on the third ring.
"Yeah?" he says.
There’s chewing. Loud chewing.
"You’re eating," I say.
"Mmm."
"Is that—"
"Cinnamon bun."
Of course it is.
"Gross," I mutter.
Dean chuckles. "This is my second. So damn good. Harper told her we just got engaged and she gifted us a dozen."
"So you had the balls to pop the question after all, huh?"
"And she said ‘yes’. I can’t believe how lucky I am," he replies.
"Congratulations man, that’s great news. What are you doing to celebrate?"
"A bottle of champagne and some nice steaks are waiting on us at home. We’re about to leave. Or we were, but Harper’s been over there chatting Madison up for the last twenty minutes. Again."
My jaw tightens.
"Chatting about what?"
"Her truck. Her recipes. Her marketing strategy. Apparently she quit some big job to chase her dream. Harper likes her. Got her to agree to plug in to the heavy-duty outlet I installed outside. Said her generator was almost out of fuel."
I lean against my office window and look down the street. Madison’s truck is glowing warm against the snow. She’s inside, filming something on her phone, gesturing animatedly.
Wild dark hair tied back with a bandana. Curves that should be illegal. Blue eyes the color of a frozen mountain lake.
Not soft. Not fragile. Confident. Stubborn.
"You’re staring, aren’t you?" Dean says.
"I’m assessing the weather."
"Of course." I can hear his grin.
I could’ve been out with those girls right now. Normally I would’ve gone. Today, I didn’t even consider it.
I exhale slowly. "You staying in town long?"
"Not much longer. Roads are turning bad."
"Yeah."
"She booked a room in Heart River," Dean adds casually. "Told Harper she was heading down this evening."
I look toward the mountain road. Looks like it’s about to start icing under the fresh layer.
I push away from the window and grab my keys.
"I’ll swing back by and talk to her. Unofficial town welcoming committee and all."
Dean laughs outright. "Right. Because you’re very civic-minded."
"Shut up."
"Just saying. You didn’t look like you were thinking about infrastructure when you spoke to her earlier."
I don’t respond to that. Because when I took that first bite—
Her whole face lit up. Pride. Anticipation. Hope.
Like my opinion mattered. And I liked that too much.
Dean lowers his voice slightly. "She seems like good people, Jake."
"I’ll make sure she has somewhere safe to stay tonight. And congrats again man, couldn’t be happier for you."
I hang up before he can say anything else.
Snow thickens as I cross the street. By the time I reach her truck again, the storm has committed. A Winter Storm Warning alert buzzes on my phone.
She’s outside now, stacking trays, stubborn written all over her posture.
"You planning to outrun a Montana blizzard in that cupcake-mobile?" I call over the wind.
She turns immediately.
"It’s a food truck."
"It’s about to be a snow globe."
She narrows her eyes at me.
"I’ll be fine."
"Road closes soon," I say evenly. "You can argue with me now, or thank me later. I’ve got an extra room. You’re welcome to it. No strings attached." I step back, giving her space.
Dean and Harper see us as they are locking up the bookstore.
"Madison," Harper says gently as she steps forward, "Jake’s place is safe and comfortable. If I didn’t have Dean dragging me home right now to celebrate, that’s where I’d be asking to stay."
Dean nods once. "Road’s icing fast. Fifteen minutes, maybe less."
"I’ll take the couch," I say evenly. "You can lock the bedroom door. This isn’t a move. It’s weather."
Another gust rocks the truck.
She looks at the road. Then at her truck. Then at me.
I don’t push.
I know what it looks like: a guy offering a place to stay in the middle of a storm. I also know what that road turns into when ice sets in.
I’ve seen the wreckage. I won’t see it again.
"Please, Madison," I say quietly. Not forceful. Not demanding. Just honest.
The wind howls between the buildings, carrying fresh snow across the street. The road is almost gone now.
She exhales slowly.
"One night," she says. "Until the roads clear."
Relief hits harder than it should.
I nod once. No grin. No victory.
"Grab what you need."
She moves toward her truck, and I let myself breathe again.
Dean nods once and guides Harper toward his truck. They pull away fast. Smart.
Madison moves quickly after that, grabbing a bag, her phone and charger, a laptop case, and—of course—a cooler.
"What’s in the cooler?" I ask.
"Inventory."
Of course it is. I take her cooler from her without asking. She starts to protest.
"I’ve got it," I say. Because I do.
The wind hits her hard as we move toward my truck, and without thinking, I shift my body slightly in front of hers. Blocking the worst of it. Automatic. Instinct. Not something I think about. Not something I question.
I help her into the passenger seat. Shut the door. Circle to my side. By the time I start the engine, the street is nearly invisible.
She looks out the window once, watching her truck disappear behind falling snow. I pull the truck forward. Not down the mountain. Up. Toward my place.
I don’t bring women there. Ever. I don’t blur lines. I don’t complicate my life. But the storm’s closing fast. And there is no version of tonight where I let Madison drive that road alone. Not after what happened to Dad.
The snow thickens. Wind howls across the windshield. Beside me, she grips her bag like it contains national secrets. I glance at her once.
Wild dark hair. Bandana slipping slightly. Eyes bright with defiance and nerves and something else.
I think I’m in trouble.