20. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Molly
I wake up to the sound of a shocking clattering noise coming from the kitchen.
At least the most incredible smell drifting through the cabin makes up for the rude awakening.
For a moment, I just lie there in Beau's massive bed, wrapped in flannel sheets that smell like him, listening to the domestic sounds of someone making breakfast.
And I bet he's not just heating up leftovers or pouring cereal. He'd be actually cooking . The kind that involves multiple pans and what sounds suspiciously like fresh fruit being chopped.
God, I love this man.
I pad to the kitchen in one of his shirts, my bare feet silent on the wide-plank floors, and stop dead in the doorway.
Beau stands at the stove in jeans and a t-shirt that clings to every muscle, his hair still damp from a shower. I must have slept well last night, because I hadn't heard a damn thing until the pan bashing that startled me awake.
Beau is flipping what appears to be the most perfect pancakes in the history of mankind. But that's not what makes my jaw drop.
It's the dining table he's set out already.
He's set it like we're dining at a five-star resort on some tropical island. There are plates, cloth napkins, actual silverware instead of the mismatched collection we usually use.
In the center sits a platter of fresh fruit—strawberries, blueberries, sliced oranges—arranged so artfully it's like it all belongs in a magazine. Beside the platter, a basket covered with a pristine white cloth sits beside glass pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
Right. So apparently my boyfriend is some kind of domestic wizard when he puts his mind to it.
"Morning, beautiful," he says without turning around, like he has some kind of sixth sense for when I'm watching him. "Sleep okay?"
"Beau..." I stare at the spread, then at him, then back at the table. "What is all this?"
"Ah. I couldn't sleep."
He turns, spatula in hand and tries to smile. Yikes. He does look tired, I hope he's okay. I know he can get at night, but I must have been so out to it after… well, what happened the moment we stepped inside the door last night.
"So I thought I'd make myself useful and cook you breakfast. It's your first day, after all."
My first day.
"Oh my God!" I slap my hand to my forehead and his eyes widen at my shock. "I completely forgot! I'm supposed to start work today and I don't even know what time and—"
"Hey." He's at my side in a heartbeat, cupping my face in his hands. "Breathe. Jamie said nine o'clock, and it's barely seven. You've got plenty of time, sweetheart."
"But I don't have work clothes, and I should probably—"
"You'll look perfect in whatever you wear," he interrupts, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Besides, it's Mountain Rescue, not a corporate office. Jeans and boots will be fine."
I take a deep breath, letting his calm confidence steady me. "Well, I guess so. Thanks for cooking for me… But why does it look like you're catering a small wedding?"
His cheeks actually flush pink beneath his beard. "Wanted to make sure my girl had a good meal before her first day at her new job."
My girl.
The casual possessiveness in his voice, combined with the thoughtful spread he's prepared, makes my heart do gymnastics in my chest.
"You didn't have to go to all this trouble," I say, but I'm already moving toward the table because everything smells incredible.
"Wasn't any trouble." He follows me, pulling out a chair like I'm royalty. "Besides, I may have liberated some of Betty's leftover pastries from the BBQ last night."
He lifts the cloth from the basket to reveal an assortment of croissants, muffins, and Betty's famous homemade cinnamon rolls. Somehow they're still warm.
"You smuggled pastries?" I laugh, settling into the chair he's holding. "That's very... tactical of you."
"Well… That's nice to hear. Years of military training had to be good for something," he says with a completely straight face, which makes me laugh harder.
The pancakes he serves are fluffy perfection, golden brown and still steaming. The fruit tastes like it was picked this morning, sweet and absolutely perfect. And the orange juice tastes like sunshine in a glass.
"This is incredible," I manage around a bite of what might be the best cinnamon roll in existence. "But you really didn't need to—"
"I wanted to," he says simply, settling across from me with his own plate. "You're starting a new chapter in your life. That deserves celebrating."
I watch him cut his pancakes, my chest getting tight with how much I love this man. How thoughtful he is. How he shows care through actions instead of just words.
I feel a delicious heat creep up my neck remembering how he claimed me last night. Pressing me against the door the moment we burst inside, bending me over that very counter, growling "mine" against my skin over and over again.
Then in the shower, on his knees, making me taste us together.
I've never experienced anything like this before.
This passion. This thoughtfulness. This all-consuming love.
"So what's the plan for today?" I ask, trying to sound casual instead of completely overwhelmed by his sweetness.
"Dunno, really. Thought I'll drive you to work, then check on your car situation while you're getting oriented."
"Funny you mention the car..." I pause. "I've been thinking about mountain roads and winter weather lately. And maybe I should look into getting something more... appropriate for up here. Considering I'm staying and all. Maybe an SUV or—"
"No need." His response is immediate. "I'll drive you every day."
"Beau, that's sweet, but you can't chauffeur me around forever. What if you have work? Or want to do something else?"
"There's nothing else I'd rather do than make sure you get where you need to go safely." His gray eyes are completely serious and I could almost drop my fork. "I don't mind, Molly. I want to do it."
The conviction in his voice makes something flutter in my chest.
Because this isn't about control, not for Beau. It's about care. About him wanting to take care of me in every way possible.
"Okay," I say softly. "But only for now."
His shoulders relax like he'd been braced for an argument. "Alright. For now."
"But I'm buying you gas money."
"Like hell you are."
"Beau—"
"Molly." He reaches across the table to capture my hand. "Let me do this. Please."
The quiet plea in his voice makes me melt completely. "Okay. But at least let me cook breakfast next time."
"Deal," he says, bringing my hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Though I should probably warn you, the standards are pretty high now."
I snort. "Your standards? You made me pancakes and fresh orange juice. How am I supposed to compete with that?"
"Easy," he says with a grin that makes my toes curl. "Just be you."
***
The Mountain Rescue headquarters are buzzing with energy from the moment I step inside. There's endless radio chatter and ringing phones, and everywhere you go there is this kind of organized chaos that speaks of life-or-death importance.
Bang on nine o'clock, Jamie meets us at the entrance of the building, looking ridiculously put-together for this early in the morning.
"Morning," Jamie grins, shaking Beau's hand before turning to me. "Ready for the grand tour?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," I laugh, though my stomach has been doing nervous flips the entire drive down.
Beau's hand finds the small of my back, steady and reassuring.
"You'll be great," he whispers in my ear, then says louder, "Pick you up for lunch?"
"You don't have to—"
"Twelve-thirty," he says, like it's already decided. "I'll bring food."
Jamie raises an eyebrow at this exchange but doesn't comment. "Alright, let's get started."
The next two hours pass in a blur of information that doesn't help the feeling of in-over-my-head that's been consuming me ever since I stepped inside the building.
Jamie shows me everything—the communication systems, the database for tracking rescue operations, the coordination protocols with other agencies.
He introduces me to the team members I didn't meet at the BBQ yesterday, all of whom welcome me with the kind of genuine warmth that makes me feel instantly included.
"And this," Jamie says with obvious pride as we move into a smaller, more standard office looking area. "Is your workspace."
He leads me to a desk tucked into a corner with windows overlooking the mountains, and I have to bite back a gasp.
Someone has clearly put thought into making this space perfect.
There's an elegant glass apothecary jar filled with gourmet chocolates—dark chocolate sea salt caramels, raspberry truffles, and those little gold-wrapped Ferrero Rocher that I'm obsessed with.
How did they even know?
A sleek rose gold pen holder shaped like a geometric pineapple contains the most gorgeous collection of writing instruments I've ever seen.
There are gel pens that write like silk in metallic and pastel colors, a fountain pen with actual gold trim, and those clicky four-color pens that remind me of high school.
A tiny succulent garden sits by the window in a hand-painted ceramic planter, and there's a custom mouse pad featuring a gorgeous aerial shot of Stone River Mountain with arrows and bright dots to identify key points of the land surrounding us.
"This is..." I trail off, running my fingers over the smooth desktop. "This is gorgeous."
"Thought you'd like it," Jamie says, looking pleased. "Sienna mentioned you have a sweet tooth, so I stocked the candy jar. And Linda from the general store helped me pick out the pens."
"Jamie, this is just…"
My eyes pop wider. I can't believe it. I seriously have no words.
It's like the whole town has conspired to make my first day perfect. That's the kind of town I'm starting to be integrated into.
I feel it in my bones now… there just isn't a place like Stone River in the world.
"Thank you," I manage, my throat tight with emotion. "This is incredible."