Page 19 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

“Problem?” I asked without looking at him.

“Nope,” he said. “Just wondering why you look like you’ve been hit by a two-by-four.”

I didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Riley Brooks was supposed to be Lucy’s old friend. A temporary guest. A favor we were doing for our sister.

She wasn’t supposed to throw my whole equilibrium off with one look.

And yet, here we were.

Damn storm hadn’t even peaked yet. And somehow, I already knew it wasn’t the snow that was going to wreck me.

We sat down to dinner like it was any other night… only it wasn’t.

Riley sat across from me at the long reclaimed-wood table, her posture a little too straight. It seemed as if she didn’t know how to relax in a room full of men who could lift trees with their bare hands.

Beckett was at the far end, quietly devouring his stew, and Asher was already three bites into his second biscuit, pretending not to watch her as he chewed.

I ladled stew into her bowl last, sliding it across with a quiet, “Careful. It’s hot.”

She looked down at it, brows lifting. “Is this made from scratch?”

“Of course it’s from scratch,” Beckett muttered under his breath.

She blinked. “I’m just saying, it smells like something you’d post on Pinterest with a rustic filter and a cozy caption. ‘Stormy nights and hearty bites.’”

She made a dramatic swoon face, then grinned.

Asher barked a laugh. “That’s a real caption, isn’t it?”

“I mean, it could be." She winked, then picked up her spoon. “Though I’d also probably hashtag it something annoying like #CabinCore or #StewForTheSoul.”

I couldn’t help myself. “What the hell is a hashtag stew?”

Her lips curled into a smile, amused. “Not the stew, Garrett. The vibe.”

“I don’t give a damn about vibes,” I muttered. “I care if it tastes good.”

She took a bite. Her eyes widened.

“It tastes amazing,” she admitted, chewing slowly like it pained her to compliment us.

“Beckett made it,” I said, gesturing down the table.

Beckett didn’t look up. “It’s not hard. Just onions, carrots, beef, and common sense.”

She gave him a playful look. “If common sense tasted like this, a lot more people would be making stew.”

Asher chuckled and passed her the basket of biscuits. “So what exactlydoyou do? Lucy said you worked online.”

There it was.

Riley froze for half a second. Just a flicker, but I saw it.

“I’m a content creator,” she said, reaching for a biscuit. “Lifestyle influencer, technically. I work with brands. Made videos, write blogs, design digital campaigns, that sort of thing.”

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