Page 18 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

Asher met my eyes as they walked up.

“Cabin’s shot,” he said without preamble. “Pipe burst sometime yesterday. Water damage everywhere. No heat. No service.”

“She okay?” I asked, glancing at her.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” he said, tone clipped.

That told me plenty. He wasn’t mad. But he was on edge. And Asher only got like that when something, or someone, got under his skin.

Interesting.

I turned back to her. “You must be Riley.”

Her chin lifted slightly. “That depends. Are you here to interrogate me like your brother, or just offer me dry socks?”

That voice.

Low. Smooth. A little wrecked from the cold, maybe from shouting. But it hit me like a jolt of heat straight to the chest.

Especially because I could see that Asher had clearly irritated her, which made sense.

I cleared my throat. “Name’s Garrett. Lucy’s brother. Welcome to Wolfe Ridge.”

“What a welcome, am I right?” she muttered, eyeing the snow that was now swirling like confetti around us.

“Yeah,” I said. “Storms don’t wait for good timing.” I stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come inside.”

She hesitated only a second, then moved past me into the cabin. And just like that, I was hyperaware of every single thing about her.

The way she smelled, a sweet blend of soft citrus and vanilla.

The way her shoulders tensed when she stepped into the warmth, like she didn’t know how to let herself relax.

The sound of her breath catching as Beckett passed behind her without a word, raising one brow in silent judgment.

She didn’t shrink from it. She squared her jaw and held his stare for one beat too long before turning away.

Goddamn.

I shut the door and followed her inside, suddenly too aware of the heat in the room. Or maybe it washer.

“This is only for one night,” she said quickly, turning toward me. “I don’t want to be a burden. I know this is a pain. I’ll sort it out.”

“You’re not,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. “You needed shelter. We’ve got it.”

She nodded once, arms folded tight over her chest. I could tell she was tense, struggling with this change of events.

I guess we were never going to be Lucy.

“We’ve got a spare room upstairs, down the hall,” I said. “Bathroom’s across from it. Towels are clean. If you’ve got wet clothes, toss ’em in the hamper. We’ll get them dry.”

Her eyes darted to mine, surprised, maybe, or just thrown off by the lack of judgment.

“Thanks,” she said, quietly this time. Almost like she didn’t say it often.

I watched her go down the hall, the sound of her footsteps fading. And still, I could feel her.

Asher came to stand beside me, arms crossed.

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