Page 18 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Asher

I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face no matter how hard I tried. And it had nothing to do with my steaming mug of morning coffee.

I leaned a hip against the counter, rubbing a hand over my jaw, still feeling the scrape of her nails down my back like a phantom burn.

Outside, the world was cold and white and silent. But in here, fire glowed.

My phone buzzed on the counter. One look at the screen, and the warm feeling in my chest twisted sharp.

Lucy.

I let it buzz once. Twice. Thought about ignoring it.

Picked up anyway.

“Hey, Lu,” I said, doing my best to sound casual, despite all that had happened recently.

“Asher, thank goodness you picked up,” Lucy shot back, her voice tight and a little breathless. “Everyone else seems to be ignoring me. I just got back into town. Roads are a disaster. I’m stuck at the inn. What the hell is going on up there?”

I blew out a breath, glancing at the window. The snow was still coming down in slow, lazy sheets, like it had nowhere else to be. “Yeah, we haven’t really had much time to sort out your cabin yet.”

Lucy went quiet for half a second. I could practically hear her jaw clench through the phone.

Then, a sharp exhale. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay at the inn. Figure it out tomorrow.”

That was Lucy. Five seconds of panic, then pure steel.

She cleared her throat. “How’s Riley? Is she okay? Is she,” Her voice softened, the best-friend worry creeping in. “Is she handling the isolation?”

“She’s okay,” I said quietly. “Better than okay, honestly. But yeah, this is hitting her. No camera, no followers, no filters. Just us. It’s a bit of a reality check.”

Lucy was silent for a long beat.

“Lu,” I added, gentler now, “you don’t need to worry. We’ve been looking after her.”

“I know, I know.”

When I hung up, I stood there for a second, phone still in my hand, coffee forgotten.

Lucy was back in Medford.

Stranded.

And knowing Lucy, she was probably already planning to commandeer a snowmobile or ride a damn moose up the mountain to check on Riley herself.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a low whistle.

Yeah. We needed to get ahead of this.

I padded down the hall, knocking on Garrett’s door first.

“Up.”

A grunt from inside. Footsteps. Then Garrett opened the door, shirtless, hair damp, already halfway into his boots like he’d sensed me coming.

“What?”

“Lucy’s back. Stuck at the Medford Inn. She’s very worried about Riley, and obviously we haven’t had a chance to sort out the flood at her place.”

Garrett’s jaw tightened. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

I smirked. “Probably. But you say it first so I can decide if you’re the responsible one or the idiot today.”

He gave me that flat, no-bullshit stare. “We get on it today .”

“Damn,” I muttered. “Responsible. Yeah, you’re right. Lucy needs her home back.”

Down the hall, Beckett leaned in the doorway, arms folded. “We going now?”

I clapped my hands once. “Let’s go be heroes, gentlemen.”

The drive to Lucy’s cabin wasn’t long, but it felt heavier than usual.

There was so much we weren’t saying. Mostly, how do we tell Lucy about last night?

It was easy to forget about it in the heat of the moment, but reality really had hit now.

It’s not like we could drop a casual “ Hey, by the way, your best friend’s currently tucked up in bed after the best damn night of her life. With all three of us.”

Yeah, no.

Garrett finally broke the silence, his voice rough. “She’s gonna lose her shit.”

“Massively,” Beckett agreed, eyes still on the road.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “We don’t owe her details. Riley’s a grown woman. She’s allowed to make her own choices.”

Garrett shot me a look in the rearview mirror. “Sure, but you know Lucy. Protective as hell. Suspicious as fuck. You think she’s not gonna sniff something out the second she sees Riley?”

I didn’t answer, because… yeah. He wasn’t wrong.

The cabin came into view around the next bend, its roof heavy with snow, icicles hanging like daggers off the porch. Riley's car was still parked out front, its top covered in snow. We'd need to move that too.

Beckett pulled up and killed the engine, the three of us sitting there for a second, staring at it.

A symbol of the mess we were in.

Garrett didn’t wait; that wasn’t his style. He hauled the tarp over his shoulder and climbed onto the roof, snapping into action where he was needed most.

Beckett got to work on the front steps, fixing the broken railing, as I headed inside to clean up the mess the flood had left behind.

I stepped in, and the cold hit me like a wall. Damp, stale, the kind of chill that settled deep in your bones.

The place was a wreck. Buckled floorboards, soggy drywall, muddy footprints from when we’d rushed to shut the water off during the storm.

I exhaled hard and rolled up my sleeves.

First up: the living room. I dragged the ruined rug outside, the thing heavy and reeking like wet dog. Then the furniture. Soaked cushions, warped wood.

I wiped a hand across my forehead, already sweating under my flannel even though my breath fogged in the air.

I found a rhythm. Haul, scrub, dump. Over and over, my muscles burning, my body moving on autopilot. It felt good, honestly. Grounding.

Something I could control, unlike everything else.

But my mind? That was a whole other story.

Every damn time I paused to catch my breath, my brain dragged me right back to last night. Riley’s moans, the way her body arched under mine, her eyes glassy with pleasure, her lips parted and begging for more.

Fuck. I could still taste her, still smell her on my skin like a brand.

And the look she’d given us after, soft and sleepy and shining, like we were her whole damn world.

I slammed the mop into the bucket, jaw tight.

We were in deep. Way deeper than any of us had planned.

A thud overhead made me glance up. Garrett stomping across the roof, hammering down a new tarp to cover the worst of the damage.

Beckett’s muttered curses floated in from outside… something about stripped screws and frozen hinges.

I grabbed the industrial fan and set it up by the water-damaged wall, flipping it on. The roar filled the room, drowning out everything else.

But not my thoughts.

How the hell were we supposed to keep this going? It wouldn’t be easy with Lucy around. But coming clean… crap. That was a whole other beast.

Why did it feel so easy when Lucy was in the city?

We really hadn’t thought things through properly.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, chest tight, and forced myself to keep moving, making the space livable again.

By the time Beckett stepped inside, his cheeks red from the cold, I’d cleared most of the main room. He looked around, eyes narrowing like he was cataloging every bit of progress.

“Looks better,” he said gruffly.

“Getting there.” I leaned on the counter, rolling my shoulders. “You done with the porch?”

“For now. Garrett’s still patching the roof.”

We stood there for a second, just breathing, the fan buzzing between us like static.

Finally, Beckett spoke, low and rough. “We’re in deep, man.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah. No shit.”

But I still didn’t want out.