Chapter 3

3

JONAH

I shuffle around the kitchen, preparing dinner as if lost in a fog.

What the hell is wrong with me? I'm usually a clear minded person. I have tasks to accomplish, I do them, I move on. But ever since the first second I took a good look at Brooke's face, it's like my brain is full of mist.

I could barely breathe while examining her ribs, my fingertips barely an eighth of an inch from the underside of her soft, full breast.

I've examined hundreds of women in all kinds of situations, and never had that reaction. Did I do anything wildly unprofessional? No. I was still totally focused on ensuring that Brooke was okay. Well, and making sure she didn't see the front of my jeans when I stood up.

But I've already been too familiar with the sweet little stranger on my couch. That's another thing… I've treated all kinds of people at my kitchen table, but it's never occurred to me to invite anyone to stay the night.

But I simply can't let her out of my sight. Of course I'm going to use the excuse of making sure she has all the help she needs, but in truth, I just can't stomach the thought of her going home, wherever that is.

Her eyes light up when I set a plate with three small burritos in front of her. Then I bring my own dinner over, along with a bottle of painkillers, sitting what I hope is a proper distance away.

Brooke directs her smile right at me, causing that cloudy foggy feeling to overtake me again. "This looks amazing. Thank you."

"Well, you need something you can eat one-handed without cutlery. The less you use your left side, the better."

She bursts out laughing, then grimaces as she nods. "Oh wow, I see what you mean. Definitely less left side movement. The bruising is settling in, I think."

"How about just one of the painkillers, then if you don't feel better in an hour you can have a second one?"

"Perfect." She swallows the pill, as I try not to stare at her inviting pink lips. "Having my own private doctor is pretty wild. I can't thank you enough, Jonah."

I've never accepted gratitude very well. It makes me feel…prickly. All I'm doing is my job. Although in this case, it feels much more personal.

"How about you thank me by picking a movie. And after dinner I'll make up the guest room for you." Brooke takes a few bites of her burrito as I set up the TV. "You shouldn't work for several days. Any stretching or lifting is going to slow your healing. I can call your workplace if you like, so that you don't get in trouble."

Damn, I love the way this woman smiles . "It's fine. I work for myself, actually."

"Doing what?"

"I draw maps."

I blink in surprise. "Interesting. Is that why you were sketching the river?"

"Yes. Sometimes it's tricky to come up with something completely random, so I use real world examples. I feel like it just makes things more authentic."

"Wait – they aren't real maps?"

"Sometimes, yes. I'm what they call an illustrative cartographer. I take a map and customize it for the client, like I get it to match the colors and style of a presentation, or make it look antique for a book jacket, or stylized for a travel memoir."

I swallow another bite of chicken burrito. "Sounds cool."

"But then I also make fantasy maps for novelists and gamers."

I adore that she's artsy. "I've never even heard of this kind of work. How did you end up doing it?"

Brooke instinctively shrugs, then instantly regrets it, judging by the look on her face. "I did some maps in high school for history class projects and realized I had a knack for it. Then I took some online courses, posted my portfolio online, and boom – somehow I have enough freelance work these days to hold down a tiny apartment."

"That's amazing." My hand reaches out to gently squeeze her knee before I can stop myself. "I'm so proud of you for making a job out of thin air."

"Yeah, I kind of did, right?" She laughs lightly. "I'm up here on a mini vacation to do some preliminary sketches for three projects where the authors all want posters designed featuring a map of their fantasy worlds. So I headed for the mountains."

Her face falls. "Except my sketchbook went down the river, with two days' worth of work in it."

"That sucks. I'm sorry – oh, shit, what about your phone?"

"It's in my car. The battery was getting low and I was going to need the map app to get back to the hotel. It would have been too tempting to take photos when I fell into the zone, so I left it behind."

Her lovely eyes roll. "And yet I managed to get distracted anyway, when I thought I heard an animal in the woods. I wasn't watching my footing…and boom, down I went. Such a klutz."

"Do you need your phone tonight to check in with anyone?" I ask. "Will anyone be worried about you?"

My heart nearly stops as I realize that "anyone" might be a boyfriend. I desperately need Brooke to be single. I need some time to figure out how to… I sigh inwardly. To what? Make this perfect angel of a girl fall in love with me? I have no idea if that's possible, but somehow, I need to try.

"No. I told a few friends that I was leaving for a week, but we don't check on each other or anything."

"What about your family?"

Something subtle tightens her expression. "I'm not close with them."

Ouch. I definitely don't need to mention that again. "Okay, last question and then the interrogation is over. Where do you live?"

She finishes her first burrito, then points to the plate. "These are amazing, by the way. I live in a little apartment over the fabric shop in a place called Mackton. That's a small town near?—"

"About half an hour from Oakton, right?"

"Yeah. You know it?"

"Not really know. Been through it a few times. Now, how about you pick a movie?"

Brooke narrows the selection down to a comedy or an action flick, then realizes that laughing too hard would be a bad idea. She settles on something where the British spy protagonist has some kind of super truck and a specialized weapon for every single occasion.

I just wish I had something in my mental arsenal for this occasion.

Perhaps I've been pushing it out of my mind the past several years, but I'm suddenly realizing just how truly lonely I've been. The odds of finding a woman who can handle life up here on the mountain are, as my grandfather used to say, "slim to diddly", but my experience tonight has ignited something deep within me.

Having Brooke in my home adds life to the place. More to the point, she adds life to me. It fills me with inexplicable joy to jump up and fetch her some ice cream. To set up the guest bedroom, and make sure she has everything she needs.

Caring for this incredible girl is what I've craved my entire life. It's not just the way I ache to touch her. The way I'm dying to kiss her. There's something more.

Maybe a lot more.