Page 140 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

Beckett was still staring at his reindeer as if it had insulted his entire bloodline. “If anyone takes a picture of this, I swear I’ll burn this entire town to the ground.”

“Smile, babe!” Lucy chirped, holding up her phone.

“Don’t you dare?—”

Click.

Too late.

By the time we pulled out of the cabin driveway, the snow was falling in thick, lazy flakes. One of those quiet storms where the world outside turned soft and white, and the only sounds were the rhythmic sweep of the wipers and Riley humming along to the holiday playlist Asher had insisted on.

Damn, I couldn’t stop looking at Riley.

Sure, we didn’t know what the future held. We didn’t know if she was going to stick around, but I kinda liked the idea of her beingmine.

Ours.

I wasn’t a man who acted on impulse. I didn’t let people in quick or easy, and I sure as hell didn’t fall for women who came crashing into my life like a one-woman blizzard.

But Riley Brooks? She’d gotten under my skin. Burrowed deep. Made a home there.

And tonight was proof. Because I was driving into town wearing a goddamn sweater with a moose in a Santa hat.

It itched. It jingled. And I’d pulled it over my head anyway, because she’d asked.

Because she’d smiled up at me as if I was some kind of miracle, and not just a man trying to figure out what the hell it meant to want someone this much. To need her in ways I didn’t have the language for.

She caught me looking over at her at a red light, where even the stop sign was wearing a knitted scarf someone in town had probably made.

“What?” she said, grinning, her cheeks pink from the heater and maybe a little from mischief.

“You make me laugh,” I muttered. “This is all madness.”

That made her blink.

“It’s festive,” she corrected, holding up her arm so I could see the absurd pink monstrosity she was wearing. “We’re all in this together, right?”

I shook my head and turned back to the road.

“You look good, by the way,” she added, tracing her finger along the hem of my sleeve. “Like a very grumpy lumberjack who lost a bet with Santa.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll turn this truck around.”

She laughed, full and unbothered. It was almost as if she’d always been part of this.

We pulled into Lucky’s as another wave of snow started coming down. The lot was packed, trucks and SUVs lined up crookedly, festive lights blinking through frost-covered windows.

Inside, I could already hear the dull thump of music and the familiar rise of voices layered in laughter and whiskey-soaked cheer.

“Ready?” she asked as we climbed out, snow crunching underfoot.

“Not even a little.”

She looped her arm through mine. “Good. Me neither.”

We stepped through the doors and were instantly hit with heat, noise, and the scent of pine, cider, and beer-soaked wood.

Lucky’s was packed, locals wall to wall, every face either someone I knew or someone who knew me. Holiday lightsblinked overhead, half of them burned out, none of it bothering anyone.

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