Page 42 of My Secret Santa Daddies

“Jack, remember that’s an adult word. You can’t say that.”

“I can see you’re a great influence,” Sierra says, taking the ladle and expertly pouring perfect circles of batter onto the hot griddle. The smell of sizzling pancakes quickly fills the room.

“It’s his Uncle Cody and Wyatt,” Griffin sighs.

“Yeah. I’m sure it is.”

After a few minutes, Sierra sets a stack in front of me, and hands me a fork.

I whistle, leaning back in my chair. “If I knew you could make pancakes like that, I would’ve shown up at your bakery more often.”

Sierra rolls her eyes, flipping the pancakes with ease. “You still can, Cody. It’s not like you need an invitation.”

Jack bounces excitedly on his toes, peeking over the counter. “Can we add more chocolate chips in mine?”

“Well, that’s up to your dad. He seems to be the pancake expert around here.”

“Go ahead,” Griffin concedes, shaking his head with a grin. “But if they turn into chocolate-chip cakes, I’m blaming you.”

“Jesus, you two sound like an old married couple,” I mutter.

Sierra pauses for a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly as she flips another pancake. “We’re just making breakfast, Cody. Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, it’s already weird, but at least it smells amazing.”

Griffin slides another pancake onto the growing stack, nodding toward Sierra. “So, what’s the secret, really? You add something special?”

“Just a little vanilla and some love,” she says lightly, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in her tone, like she’s trying not to read too much into the moment. “It’s not that complicated.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Griffin mutters, his eyes meeting hers for just a second longer than necessary.

There’s a brief, charged silence, broken only by Jack’s impatient voice. “Can we eat now?”

Sierra hands him a small plate, and ruffles his hair again. “Go ahead, kiddo. Dig in.”

Griffin watches as Jack takes a messy bite, chocolate smearing across his cheeks. “Looks like you’ve won this round, Sierra.”

She arches an eyebrow, smiling as she wipes chocolate from Jack’s face. “It’s not a competition, Griffin.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” I interject. “Everything’s a competition with you two.”

“Shut up, Cody,” they say in unison, which only makes me laugh harder. They turn and glare at one another before returning to their pancakes. You’d have to be blind not to see the attraction between these two. They were like magnets.

“Maybe one day you’ll realize I’m just better at making breakfast than you are,” Sierra says, taking her own plate and sitting by Jack.

“This is ridiculous,” Griffin mutters, staying near the stove.

I grab a mug from the counter and fill it with coffee, holding it out to Sierra. “Here. Coffee. It’s hot, and you look like you could use it.”

She hesitates for a second, her gaze locking with mine, but then she takes the mug, her fingers brushing against mine. “Thanks, Cody.”

“Anytime,” I say, with a teasing grin. “And hey—try to enjoy being stuck with us. We’re not that bad.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips as she takes a sip of the coffee, steam curling up around her face.

The next twodays pass in a blur of hammers, sawdust, and the constant, rhythmic beat of the falling snow landing against the windows and on the ground.

Griffin, Wyatt, and I spent most of our time in the lodge’s half-finished rooms, focusing on whatever we can while the storm outside raged on.

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