Page 8 of My Secret Santa Mason

It was a charming little gem nestled right in the middle of Silver Ridge, just a short walk from the main street’s hustle and bustle. It was the kind of place you might see on a postcard, with its pale blue clapboard siding, white trim, and a sloping roof that gave it a cozy, welcoming appearance. A small covered front porch stretched across the front, and a pair of rocking chairs sat next to the front door, complete with hanging flower baskets that added a splash of color when the weather was warmer.

When I saw this place for the first time, I fell in love right away.

I pushed the cheerful red door open, stepped into the bright living room, and crossed the hardwood floors that had seen so many feet come and go. I added a couple of logs to the fireplace and stoked a fire until it crackled happily. Once it was warm, I sat down on the plush gray sofa and opened my laptop.

I started uploading the photos I’d taken, editing some of them to get the colors just right, to really set the mood.

While I worked, Mason’s face flashed before me. His gruff demeanor, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through me. It was maddening and thrilling all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind howling in your ears. I tried to brush it off, telling myself it was just a passing attraction. Mason wasn’t someone who even liked being in town. It wasn’t like I was going to run into him again. Besides, he was rude and obtuse and that was every reason todislike him.

The glow of my laptop cast a soft light around the room, joined by the warm light of the fire. I posted the pictures on my social media, typing out a quick caption about the event. My family and friends back in Denver would see this.

Until now, I’d flown below the radar, not posting, not reacting to others’ posts, not doing anything that would draw attention to me.

I’d felt like such an idiot, not knowing what everyone else had known, still believing in trusting when the rest of the world had known I’d been a fool.

But now, I’d been away long enough and it was time for me to put myself out there again. I had to stop hiding.

After all, I wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong.

The likes and comments started rolling in almost immediately, people praising the decorations, the food, the sense of togetherness.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was building something again, piece by piece. It wasn’t just about running away anymore. It was about finding my way back, creating a life that was mine. And maybe, just maybe, figuring out why a man like Mason Thompson had me so damn intrigued.

After I hit Post, I glanced out of the window at the snow falling softly outside, covering everything in a perfect, pristine blanket. It was beautiful out there. Nothing like the messy life I’d left behind. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Change.

That was what I’d needed, and that was what I’d found.

What could possibly go wrong in a town like Silver Ridge?

4

MASON

Ikicked the snow off my boots, slamming the cabin door shut behind me. The cold wasn’t what had my blood boiling—it was this goddamn Secret Santa bullshit. Rae had somehow managed to put my name in the drawing, and now I was stuck finding a gift for Cami.

Of all people,shehad to be the name I’d drawn.

I’d already chewed Rae out about nominating me, but Tanner just stood there, arms crossed, daring me to make a bigger scene than I already had. He had Rae’s back, always, and I wasn’t about to fight him on that. But damn it, I wanted nothing to do with this.

Cami. Jesus Christ. She was the last person I needed to get closer to. From the second I laid eyes on her at the diner, I knew she was trouble. Not the kind that got you killed—not directly, anyway—but the kind that got under your skin, made you think about things you had no business thinking about. She was beautiful, but not in the fragile, delicate way you’d expect. She had this strength about her, a kind of fire in her eyes thatdrew me in like a moth to a flame. And God, I wanted to touch that fire.

I dropped my rifle on the kitchen table and stared at it like maybe it could shoot away the thoughts in my head. I didn’t need this. I didn’t need her. But here I was, stuck having to find her a gift, which meant talking to her, figuring out what made her tick.

And that was always dangerous. It was the kind of danger I’d spent my whole damn life avoiding. The kind that got people killed.

The kind that made you forget who you were supposed to be.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the small space of my cabin. I could still see her face from the diner, the way she smiled at everyone like she belonged. She was in her element, soaking up the small-town charm like she’d been born into it. But there was something else there, too, something hidden behind those bright eyes and that perfect smile. A sadness, maybe.

Fuck, I wanted to know her. More than that, I wanted her in ways that had nothing to do with gifts or small talk. I wanted her body under mine, our skin pressed together, tangled in sheets that smelled like sex and sweat and everything we weren’t supposed to have. It was a hell of a fantasy. But it was just that—a fantasy. A dangerous, stupid fucking fantasy.

Camille Whitman.

Fuck, even her name was a turn-on.

But Cami was too good for me. Too bright, too pure, too damn everything. And me? I was a mess of scars and secrets. I’d seen and done things that would make her run the other way if she knew. And then there was my past—my goddamn past.

The betrayal that still haunted me. The team I’d thought of as brothers, the ones who’d turned on me when I needed them most. I’d trusted them, and it had nearly gotten me killed. That kind of betrayal left a mark. It changed you. Made you hard. Made you careful.

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