Page 14 of My Secret Santa Daddies

“I don’t know if I can accept that, Cody. I mean?—”

He holds up a hand. “Listen. I know there’s been some distance between us, but that doesn’t change the fact you still matter to us.”

There’s a beat of silence, and I can see the internal battle playing out on her face.

He pauses, then adds, “And I get it, okay? I do. But we’re here now and you’re stuck with us.”

Her expression softens, as if his words have taken her by surprise. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Cody claps my shoulder. “Come on, partner. Let’s leave the lady alone for a bit, huh?”

I shoot him a look of disbelief, but he just smirks back at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Thanks for this,” she says, genuine gratitude in her voice as we head back inside.

Cody just shrugs, “It’s nothing. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be stranded here with a banged-up car.” He turns back to her. “We’re going to haul this back with us, if that’s alright with you. It’ll be easier for me to work on it.”

“Sure, have at it,” she waves her hand. “Not like I can use it.”

“Are you going to be okay without a ride?” I ask.

“I’m going to have to be.”

“Well, we’ll come check on you later, okay?”

She rolls her eyes. “You and everyone else in this damn town.”

But there’s a trace of amusement in her voice now, something I haven’t heard in years.

With that, she turns and heads back inside the house, leaving us to it.

She might not want to admit it yet, but I know she’s glad we’re here—whether she likes it or not.

5

SIERRA

Igo through the same routine every night. Wash my face, brush my teeth, pull my hair back into a loose ponytail, and slip into an old T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms that have seen better days.

Tonight, though, my mind isn’t on the routine. It’s still tangled up in the events of the day—Wyatt and Cody showing up unexpectedly. Tall, rugged, and standing in my doorway. Cody's lazy grin that makes me both want to punch him and melt at the same time. Wyatt, on the other hand, is the quiet storm. He stands beside Cody, taller, bulkier, like he’s carved out of the same wood that built these mountains.

Damn them.

Damn them and their boots and flannels.

I climb into bed, the soft weight of the comforter pressing down on me, but my mind won’t quiet.

My room is dark, save for the soft glow of the small lamp on my nightstand. I turn it off, plunging the space into darkness, and tug my blankets to my chin, hoping sleep will come soon.

Eventually, it does. But with sleep comes the dream.

I’m lying on my back, beneath a Christmas tree—an enormous, glowing tree decorated to perfection, with twinklinglights and shimmering ornaments. The air smells of fresh pine, and the warm, golden glow of the lights casts a soft, dreamlike haze over everything.

The perfect Christmas set up.

The needles of the tree brush lightly against my skin, and I can feel the softness of the carpet beneath me, almost like velvet. It feels peaceful here.

A bright red bow sits on top of my head, the satin smooth beneath my fingers as I touch it, my breath coming fast and uneven. I look down and find myself dressed in soft, sheer fabric—white like fresh snow, but it’s thin enough that my skin glows beneath it, bathed in the warmth of the tree’s lights. It covers nothing and exposes everything.

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