Page 39 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

“You think I’m still alive because I avoid Garrett? Babe, that’s not how survival works around here.”

I rolled my eyes, popping the lid open. “Don’t ‘babe’ me. Not after you winked at me like some walking cliché.”

“You liked it.”

“I was half feral with hormones.”

“Exactly. I’m irresistible when you’re starving and embarrassed.”

He grinned again, cocky and warm, and I hated that my chest fluttered even a little.

I grabbed a fork and turned away before I gave him more power than he already had.

He didn’t push. He let the silence stretch between us while I ate over the sink like some awkward raccoon at a dumpster. Every now and then, I felt his gaze, heavy and amused, like he was reading every word I didn’t say.

And still, I didn’t regret it. Not really.

But that didn’t mean I had any clue what came next.

I shoved another bite of cinnamon roll into my mouth and made a face. Dry. Probably a day old. Still tasted like sugar and shame.

Asher leaned a hip against the counter beside me, watching me with that intense look again. Not smug, not exactly sweet… just that infuriating, fascinated calm like he was waiting for me to unravel or spontaneously combust.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

“No,” I said around a mouthful. “But I’m not dead, and I’m not crying, so that’s a win.”

“High bar.”

“Welcome to my rock bottom,” I muttered, licking icing off my thumb. “Population: me.”

He chuckled under his breath, and I could feel him trying to decide if it was safe to joke again. I beat him to it.

“Listen, I’m not going to sit around here like some sad exiled Instagram ghost waiting for the storm to pass. If I’m stuck in this snow globe nightmare, I’m gonna do something useful.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Useful?”

I set the fork down and turned to face him, arms crossing under my hoodie. “Yes. Useful. Productive. Not entirely embarrassing. I may be a fallen influencer with a scandal in my rearview and mascara in my hair, but I still know how to work. I built an entire brand from scratch. You think I can’t contribute just because I can’t chop wood or fix a generator?”

Asher blinked. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” I snapped, the cinnamon roll sugar crash starting to kick in. “Your whole family looks at me like I’m a feral cat someone accidentally let inside.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then seemed to think better of it. Smart man.

“I’m proving myself,” I announced, hands on hips now. “I’m going to find something,anythingto do around here—and I’m going to do it well.”

Asher took a sip from his mug, clearly fighting a smile. “You going to rebrand the pantry? Organize the spice rack by aesthetics?”

“No. I think I’m going to do something more than that.”

It was my turn to wink at Asher as an idea took root in my mind.

CHAPTER TEN

Garrett

I wasn’t usedto being thrown off balance.

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