Page 23 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

"Ivy?" Hank's voice is rough through the wood, barely needing to rise over the storm. "I won’t be able to check everything until morning. You'll freeze in there. Sleep in the living room."

He’s right. I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that I actually consider being stubborn for the sake of it. But my toes are already numb, and my pride isn’t worth freezing to death over.

I pull my robe tight around me and shuffle over to the door, opening it to see Hank's imposing figure, a shadow against the flickering light from the main room.

"Fireplace is still going," he says, words clipped, as if he’s afraid to say more than necessary. “Plenty of wood.”

"Thanks." My teeth chatter, making me sound like a kid.

"Come on." He turns without waiting for a response, confident I'll follow.

I do. After grabbing all three blankets from my bed and pulling on the thick wool socks that Wyatt offered me last night.

The closer we get to the living room, the better I feel. Comfort. Warmth. Survival. It beckons me closer.

"Better?" Hank asks, watching me with those deep-set eyes that seem to see everything.

"Much." I nestle into the couch, grateful. The fire crackles, a counterpoint to the storm's fury. It's cozy here, safe. And Hank, he's part of that feeling, too. Gruff, maybe, but reliable. Always showing up when needed.

"Get some sleep," he murmurs before disappearing back into the darkness of the hallway.

"Night," I call softly after him, but he's already gone.

The fire casts the main room in a soft, flickering glow, shadows dancing along the walls. I set up my nest on the couch, pulling the blankets around me and stretching out. It’s better—still cold, but not bone-deep like before.

I curl closer to the fire, and its warmth licks against my skin. A log pops, sending sparks dancing upward like tiny fireflies. The storm rages outside, but it's the silence from Hank's room that presses down on me, heavy and unsettling.

"Room for two more?" Wyatt's voice breaks the quiet. I glance up to see him and Holt, shadows in the dim light, their figures relaxed and sure. They don't wait for an answer; they just make space for themselves, one on either side of me. A human blanket, all muscle and heat.

"Hey there, CG," Holt teases with a grin that's all charm. "Need someone to melt the chill?"

"Maybe." My voice is more playful than I intended. But it feels good—natural. His laugh rolls through the room, warm and inviting.

Wyatt stretches out, his arm brushing mine, a lazy touch that sends a jolt through me. He catches my eye and winks. It's hard to think straight with him so close.

"Can't sleep, huh?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Who'd want to sleep at a time like this?" Wyatt murmurs, the edges of his words soft, teasing.

"Sleep is overrated anyway," Holt adds, leaning back on an elbow, his gaze fixed on me like I'm the only thing he sees.

The generator hums somewhere in the background, but it's the conversation that fills the space between us. Flirtatious quips. Laughter. The occasional brush of skin on skin that sets my nerves alight.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and sink deeper into the couch cushions, surrounded by the scent of pine and men. Why fight this pull? Why deny myself? It's just a few days, just a little fun.

"Stop thinking so loud," Wyatt whispers, his lips barely grazing my ear.

"Wasn't aware I was," I whisper back, meeting his gaze, daring him to make a move.

"Your eyes give you away," Holt chimes in, propping his chin on his hand as he studies me, a smile playing on his lips.

I chuckle, shaking my head at their antics. This is ridiculous. Delightful, but ridiculous.

A log crackles in the fireplace, sending sparks dancing. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders and glance toward Hank's closed door. It might as well be a mile away with all the tension it holds.

"Chilly, huh?" Wyatt says, his voice low, almost a purr. He reaches out, his fingers grazing my arm under the blanket, sending a shiver up my spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

"Could say that," I reply, trying not to betray the warmth flooding through me at his touch.

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