Page 4 of Four Stepbrothers for Christmas

Vinnie appeared beside us, scotch in hand, followed by Luke.

"Isn't it a little early for the hard stuff?" I raised an eyebrow, my own cup of coffee suddenly looking quite pedestrian in comparison.

Vinnie smirked. "Isaac, we're on vacation. The usual rules don't apply."

Before I could protest, he uncorked a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream and splashed a generous amount into my coffee. I chuckled, raising the mug to my lips. The creaminess of the Bailey's melded perfectly with the robustness of the coffee—pure indulgence, and damn if it didn't taste good.

"Not all rules are suspended," I reiterated, locking eyes with each of them in turn. I knew these men, knew them better than anyone else in the world. We had weathered storms together, celebrated victories, mourned losses. I trusted them with my life. But I also knew that men—myself included—could be fools in matters of the heart.

"I mean it. She's here to do a job. Let's not make it complicated for her or for us," I added, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Besides, if this works out, we could have a world-class chef taking care of our gastronomic needs on a more permanent basis. Don't screw this up."

Archer finished his wine, placing the empty glass on a small outdoor table. "So, it's business as usual, then?"

"Exactly," I said, my eyes returning to the cabin road. "Business as usual."

Her forest green Land Rover turned slowly around the bend, driving onto the main stretch of the property. Her car crunched over the gravel, stopping a short distance from where we stood. The engine cut off, and the door swung open. Becca stepped out, enveloping herself in a coat, gloves, and a beanie as though she were donning armor against the winter chill.

I couldn't peel my eyes away as she walked to the rear of her SUV, her boots imprinting on the freshly fallen snow. She lifted the trunk and glanced at the stash of groceries, then back to the four of us standing on the deck like statues on the porch.

Even in layers of winter clothing designed more for function than fashion, Becca was an undeniable knockout. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall at midnight, shiny and full of life, contrasting beautifully with her fair skin.

Her eyes, dark as deep pools of chocolate, were capable of holding your gaze and never letting go. Those eyes could communicate more than words ever could, full of intelligence, spunk, and a hint of mischief. But it was her curvaceous figure that caught my attention the most. Even wrapped in bulky winter attire, her body had a language all its own—curvy in all the right places, a physical testament to femininity that could make any man stop dead in his tracks.

Something stirred deep inside me, an almost primal reaction to her beauty. She radiated an aura of sensual allure yet maintained an air of graceful sophistication. It was a tantalizing mix, and I felt a surge of desire so potent it took me by surprise. My pulse quickened, and for a moment, the snowy landscape, the cabin, and even my lifelong friends faded into the background, leaving only her.

"Are you gentlemen just going to stand there and watch me carry in all these groceries by myslelf?"

The air seemed to burst with her humor, and we all chuckled. I glanced at the guys, each of us sharing the same appreciative look, then marched down the steps toward her.

"As it turns out, I'm a part-time grocery-hauling superhero," I said, grabbing a couple of bags and leading the way back to the cabin. Vinnie, Luke, and Archer followed suit, each grabbing an armful of groceries.

As we unloaded the supplies into the cabin's entryway so we could take off our coats, I caught myself watching Becca again. She moved with grace and a surefooted ease, already at home in our mountain retreat. Something about her felt both new and wonderfully familiar, like a song you've never heard before but already know the words to.

Could we really maintain a purely professional distance? The thought buzzed in my head like a persistent fly. We had our rules, built over years of friendship and business partnership. But rules are man-made, and men are fallible creatures.

What made this especially complex was our unique relationship; the four of us had shared before—though now wasn’t the time to delve into that. The point was, we understood the tenuous nature of desire, how easily boundaries could blur when emotions came into play.

As we finalized the placement of the last bag, Becca clapped her gloved hands together.

"Alright, let's make some culinary magic happen!" she declared, already taking charge of her dominion.

I felt both excitement and a twinge of apprehension. This trip was either going to be a spectacular success or a recipe for disaster. And looking at the other faces in the room—Vinnie with his devil-may-care grin, Archer's eyes piercing as if he were solving a complex algorithm, and Luke, the watchful observer—I knew they were grappling with the same possibilities.

The stakes were different this time; the game had changed. We were all smart enough to know that when you introduce a new variable into a stable equation, the outcomes can be unpredictable. The question was, were we prepared for whatever solution that new variable might yield?

Only time would tell. But damn, if the game itself didn't suddenly seem a lot more interesting.

Chapter 3

Becca

As I walked further into the cabin, my eyes instantly found them again—Isaac, Archer, Luke, and Vinnie—standing like four gods. My breath hitched involuntarily. Each one was a masterpiece of testosterone and muscle, exuding effortless charm only a man confident in his own skin could radiate. For a split second, I wondered how on Earth I was going to spend five days there without turning into a walking hormone.

As I slipped out of my coat, I mentally shook off the inappropriate thoughts, reminding myself that I was there for a job. All the same, there was no escaping the electrifying energy pulsating in the air.

As I walked closer, they surrounded me, and suddenly I was enveloped in a heady aroma that was part pine, part masculine spice, and all intoxicating. My senses were overwhelmed; it was as if every nerve ending in my body was standing at attention, hyper-aware of their proximity.

To cope, I fell back on my go-to defense mechanism—humor. "Good Lord, did you guys roll around in a pine forest before I arrived?" I waved my hand theatrically in front of my face. "I'm gonna need to dig out my allergy meds if you keep this up."

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