Page 13 of Rescued By the Mountain Man

"Aspen, down," I command.

"It's fine," Jade says, already stroking the dog's fur. "She's keeping me warm."

I shake my head, returning to the kitchen. "You've turned my working dog into a lap dog in forty-eight hours."

"It's my superpower," she calls back. "Corrupting perfectly good rescue animals."

I find myself smiling as I pull out eggs and the few fresh vegetables I have left. I’ll have to go into town soon.The domesticity of the moment doesn't escape me—making breakfast for a beautiful woman while morning sun streams through the windows. It's been years since I've experienced anything like this.

"Can I help?" Jade asks, attempting to stand.

"Stay put. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," she argues, but settles back down.

"Closest thing for fifty miles at the moment."

I scramble eggs with peppers and onions, toast the last of my bread, and brew coffee strong enough to stand a spoon in. When I bring a plate over to Jade, Aspen immediately sits up, nose twitching hopefully.

"Don't even think about it," I tell her. "You've already had breakfast."

Jade laughs, the sound warming the cabin more effectively than the fire. "She's got the puppy-dog eyes down to a science."

"Six years of practice," I reply, fetching my own breakfast. I hesitate for a moment, then sit beside her on the couch rather than retreating to my usual chair. Aspen, now squeezed between us, looks absolutely delighted with this arrangement.

We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes. I'm acutely aware of Jade beside me—the subtle scent of her skin, the way she hums appreciatively at the first sip of coffee, the occasional brush of her arm against mine as she eats.

"This is really good," she says, raising her fork. "I thought mountain men survived on jerky and pine cones."

"Only on special occasions."

She laughs again, warming my body in a way that I thought was no longer possible.

"So," she says, setting her empty plate aside. "What's the plan for today?"

"SAR confirmed roads will be cleared by afternoon. I'd imagine Carlson will send someone up for you as soon as they can."

"Oh." Her expression falls slightly. "Right."

"I’ll have to go into the office. Need to debrief, file the incident report."

"Incident report. Is that what I am?" There's a teasing note in her voice, but something vulnerable underneath.

I look at her directly. "You know you're more than that."

Her gaze holds mine, searching. "Am I?"

Aspen chooses this moment to flop dramatically across both our laps, forcing us closer together. Jade giggles, scratching the dog's belly.

"She's not subtle, is she?" she says.

"Never has been." I find myself smiling again. It's becoming a habit around her.

We spend the morning like this—talking easily, sharing space. I change Jade's bandages, our breaths mingling as I lean close. She tells me stories about her most ridiculous ski students; I counter with tales of bizarre rescue missions. Aspen shuttles between us, bringing toys to Jade as offerings, then looking to me for approval, as if ensuring I know she's still loyal.

When Jade attempts to stand unassisted and wavers, I'm there instantly, steadying her. Her hand grips my forearm, fingers pressing into muscle.

"I've got you," I say.

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