Page 37 of My Secret Santa Daddies

“Yeah, and you spent the whole night bitching about the cold,” Cody shoots back, grinning. “But sure, man, you’re a real tough guy now.”

“This is different. At least we have a roof over our heads. And no chance of a bear wandering into camp. Or fucking rain.”

“You sure you’re good sleeping on the floor, though?”

I shrug again, rolling my shoulders to loosen the knots that have settled in. “Seriously, I don’t mind. The hard surface is good for my back.”

“You could always bunk up with me.”

“You snore.”

“Just admit it, Wyatt—you’re a softie for Sierra.”

I snort, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, don’t go spreading that around, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies. “Now come on. We got work to do.”

By midnightmy arms are burning with the effort of holding the cabinets in place, my back throbbing with every movement. The snow outside shows no signs of letting up.

Sierra doesn’t come down once. In fact, I can’t hear a thing from her room, can’t tell if she’s sleeping, reading, or just sitting there, waiting for this whole nightmare to be over.

“Hold that end up,” Griffin mutters, breaking into my thoughts as he wrestles another cabinet into place.

I nod, gripping the heavy wood, wincing as my shoulders protest. “Yeah, got it.”

Cody screws the cabinet into place with a loud whir of the drill, giving us a thumbs-up when it’s secure. “Think that’s the last one for today. Thank God, because if I have to hold one more of these things, I think my arms might fall off.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Griffin gives the newly hung cabinet a final nudge, testing its sturdiness before stepping back. “We’ll finish up tomorrow. No point in overdoing it.”

“Good call,” I agree, rubbing a hand over my aching back. “I’m about ready to pass out anyway.”

We clean up the tools and sweep away the sawdust that’s scattered across the floor.

Griffin and Cody head to their room without much more than a grunt and a wave.

I stay downstairs, easing my stiff muscles down onto the floor by the fireplace. The heat from the flames is a welcome relief, soaking into my sore back.

I tug off my flannel and let the warmth seep into my muscles.

“God, that feels good,” I mutter.

I grab one of the spare blankets, spreading it out beneath me as I settle down on my back, staring up at the shadowy rafters. The fire crackles softly, the glow flickering across the rough-hewn beams, casting long shadows across the room.

“This is better than that bed, Cody. You’re just too much of a bitch to try it.” I mutter to myself.

I let out a long breath, listening to the soft pop of the burning logs.

What the hell are we all doing here, playing house in this half-finished lodge? Trying to act like we’re all just fine, like the past hasn’t come back to bite us all in the ass?

Just as my eyes start to droop, I hear the faint creak of a floorboard behind me.

Soft, almost hesitant footsteps cross the wooden floor, moving toward the kitchen. I crack an eye open, catching a glimpse of a shadow slipping through the dim light.

It’s Sierra. Her hair tousled from sleep—or at least from lying awake upstairs—and she’s wearing an old sweater that’s too big for her, the sleeves pushed up as she moves through the darkness. She freezes when she notices me on the floor, her eyes widen for a second, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

A slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth as I prop myself up on one elbow, turning to face her. “Midnight snack? Or were you planning on raiding the fridge and running out into the snow?”

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