Page 35 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“Home sweet home,” Clay said.

I put the car in park, and I felt the first tremor of apprehension.

I was about to get snowed in with Clay. It wouldn’t be the first time…but every other time had led to us getting naked together, and I didn’t know how I felt about that.

He was out first, boots crunching on the crisp snow. He led the way up the porch steps and I followed, my own steps less assured as the cold bit through my layers.

We burst into the house together, warmth enveloping us immediately, Clay’s dog prancing around my legs. Just as I started to shake off the chill, the wind howled, and the lights flickered once...twice...

…then darkness swallowed everything whole.

“Shit,” Clay cursed. “Sorry…electricity’s spotty out here.”

“Welcome to the mountains,” I murmured.

“Stay put,” he instructed. “I'll get some candles.”

“Got it.” I did as I was told, listening to the sounds of him rummaging through drawers and cabinets. The intimacy of being alone with Clay, surrounded by shadows and silence, was disarming.

I wasn't sure if I wanted the lights to stay off or not.

“Hey,” I whispered, feeling the big dog nudge my hand with his nose. I knelt down beside him in the shadows and he licked my hand enthusiastically, his tail thumping against the floor. “You're a good boy, aren't you?”

“Found some,” Clay called from the other room. Soon enough, the soft glow of candlelight flickered across the walls as he set them around the room. “Let’s get a fire going.”

“Okay,” I said. “What can I…”

He seemed to already be on it—no help necessary. The sound of logs being arranged and the scrape of a match striking soon followed. Flames licked across the firewood in the hearth, illuminating Clay’s broad shoulders against the fireplace. He was focused, looking every bit the mountain man in his element as he turned around to look at me.

“Getting to know Bear?” he asked.

I smiled, coming closer. “Yeah. He’s quite the welcoming committee.”

“Yeah…he’s the best,” Clay grinned.

He bent to open up a wooden chest by the fireplace, then pulled out a plush blanket.

“Here.” He held it out to me and I came closer to take it. “Wrap up. It'll be cozy in no time.”

“Thanks.” I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, settling near the fire. The heat seeped into my bones, the crackling flames a soothing symphony compared to the storm's howl outside. Bear came over and cuddled up next to me, letting out a contented sigh.

It was downright cozy.

But as I looked around, something started to feel off. It was cozy, yeah, but the cabin felt...empty. Bare walls, functional furniture, no personal touches. It was like stepping into the home of a man who didn't want to be reminded that he had a past—or hoped for a future.

“Clay,” I started, then hesitated. His back was to me as he poked at the fire. “Why do you live out here all by yourself?”

He paused, poker hovering above the embers. “It's quiet,” he finally said. “Helps me think.”

I didn’t ask for more. He didn’t seem interested in elaborating.

Clay moved around the cabin, gathering supplies—a few more candles, extra blankets, and then he came back with a bottle of wine. He knelt beside me and held it up. “In case we need to stay warm?”

My eyebrow arched. “Not sure if that’s such a good idea.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “We had fun the other night, didn't we? Besides,” he gestured vaguely to the windows where snow pelted against the glass, “not like we’ve got anywhere to be.”

“Point taken,” I conceded, watching him uncork the bottle. The scent of wine filled the space between us, rich and earthy.

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