9. Chapter Eight #2
"Is that why you do this? The rush?"
The question catches me off guard. "I don't do this often. Not anymore."
"But you could. Jamie made it clear they'd love to have you on the team."
I shrug, uncomfortable with her perception. "Got my reasons."
To my surprise, she doesn't press further. Just nods and says, "Fair enough."
We round a bend, and our headlights catch the reflection of taillights ahead. A dark SUV sits at a precarious angle, its front end dipped down the steep embankment, the only thing preventing a complete slide being a sturdy pine tree wedged against the bumper.
I pull up a safe distance away and kill the engine.
"Stay in the truck until I check it," I tell Molly, grabbing a flashlight from the center console.
The cold hits me as I step out. The wind has died down, but the temperature has dropped to single digits. Stars blanket the clear sky, and the moon casts enough light to see without the flashlight.
I approach the stranded vehicle carefully, testing each step on the icy ground.
A face appears in the SUV's rear window—a woman with panic-wide eyes. The back door opens just an inch.
"Oh, thank God," she calls. "Are you with Mountain Rescue?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answer, assessing the situation. "Everyone okay in there?"
"Yes, just scared. My husband tried to get out earlier and almost fell."
"Stay put. I'll stabilize the vehicle first."
I return to my truck, where Molly has ignored my instructions and is already gathering equipment from the back.
"What can I do?" she asks, no trace of fear in her voice now, just determination.
Part of me wants to tell her to get back in the truck. The smart part. But I've never been too smart. Not when it comes to Molly.
"Hold the flashlight. I need to see what I'm doing when I hook up the winch."
She nods, taking the heavy-duty light and following me back to the stranded vehicle, her borrowed boots crunching in the snow.
What follows is thirty minutes of methodical work. We secure the winch cable to the SUV's rear axle, set up stabilizing jacks, Molly shining the light exactly where I need it the entire time.
To my surprise, she's a quick study, anticipating what I'll need next, handing me tools, the correct tools, without being asked.
"Need the winch controller," I say at one point, and she's already extending it toward me.
The family watches from inside the vehicle—parents in the front, two kids in the back, all wide-eyed and tense.
"So this is what mountain men do for fun on a Friday night?" Molly jokes as I adjust the tension on the winch.
"Usually I just chop wood and brood into my whiskey glass silently," I deadpan, surprising myself again.
Her laugh echoes across the ridge, and I notice how the tension in the stranded family's faces eases slightly at the sound.
Finally, after careful maneuvering and a few tense moments, the SUV is back on solid ground, chains attached to the tires for the journey down the mountain.
The family piles out, relief making them effusive in their gratitude. The father pumps my hand, the mother hugs Molly, and the children stare up at me with a mixture of fear and awe.
"You two saved our vacation!" the mother exclaims. "How can we ever thank you?"
"Just drive carefully on the way down," I say. "Follow the main road, no shortcuts."
The father nods vigorously. "Absolutely. Thank you both so much." He glances between Molly and me with a smile. "You two make a good team. Been together long?"
Molly starts to respond, "Oh, we're not—"
"Not long enough."
Molly's neck snaps to look at me and the family piles back into their vehicle, now safely equipped for the descent. With final waves, they're gone, taillights disappearing around the bend.
Leaving Molly and me alone on the ridge.
The full moon hangs above us, making everything silver in light. From this vantage point, the valley below spreads out like a dark blanket scattered with the tiny lights of Stone River Mountain.
"Not long enough, huh?" Molly finally says, turning to face me. "Staking your claim on me, Mr. Grumpy?"
There's teasing in her voice, but something else too. A question she's dancing around.
I take a step toward her, drawn by something I can't explain but don't want to resist anymore.
Then I hesitate, Riley's face flashing in my mind.
Molly reads my hesitation perfectly. Her eyes soften as she moves closer, close enough that I can feel her warmth.
"I know what you're thinking about," she says quietly. "He doesn't own me. Not anymore. He never did, but especially not now."
I swallow as she moves closer, her scent absolutely heavenly. "He's still my brother."
"And I'm still me," she counters, eyes dropping to my lips. "Not a possession to be handed off or fought over. This—" she gestures between us "—has nothing to do with him. It's just us. You and me."
"You and me," I repeat, testing how it feels.
"Would that be so terrible?"
I search her face, looking for doubt, for hesitation, for any sign that this is a mistake. Instead, I find only clarity. Certainty. The same pull I've been fighting since she climbed into my truck at Betty's café.
"No," I say, closing the distance between us. "It wouldn't."
I pull off my gloves, needing to feel her skin when I touch her. My hand rises to her face, her skin so soft, so warm despite the freezing cold.
She leans into my touch like she's been waiting for it just as long as I have. Time seems to suspend, the moment stretching out like an indrawn breath.
And then I'm kissing her.
It starts gentle, a brush of lips, a question of my own.
But when she makes a small sound in the back of her throat and her hands grip the front of my jacket, something breaks loose inside me.
My arms wrap around her, lifting her slightly as the kiss deepens. My tongue lashes into her mouth as her body fits against mine, our mouths colliding in a way I never imagined they would.
For a man who's spent years building walls, it's terrifying how quickly she dismantles them. How easy it is to lose myself in the feel of her lips, the small sounds she makes, the way her fingers thread through my hair.
A brief flash of guilt cuts through the fog of desire. Riley's fiancé . But it dissolves the moment I pull back from the kiss and look at Molly's face, flushed and beautiful in the moonlight.
This isn't about him. It never was.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, she lets out a soft "Oh" that might be the most perfect sound I've ever heard.
I rest my forehead against hers, trying to make sense of the storm inside me.
"I've wanted to do that since you climbed into my truck tonight."
Her smile is slow, a little dazed. "Only since tonight?"
My laugh is low, surprising me again. "Well, maybe not. But that's a conversation for another time."
Above us, stars wheel in their ancient patterns. Below, the lights of town twinkle like earthbound reflections.
But here, on this ridge, there's only us…
Molly and me.
And something new and fragile and powerful building between us.