Page 6 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER FOUR

Garrett

Storms didn’t rattle me.

I’d lived through enough of them. Blizzards, blackouts, equipment failures, power lines down halfway up the ridge. You learned to plan, to prep, to keep a calm head when the sky turned dark and the wind started screaming.

What you didn’t do was panic.

So when the clouds rolled in that afternoon, heavy with snow and bad timing, I was out behind the cabin with Beckett, double-checking the generator and hauling in the last of the firewood.

We had enough fuel to get us through the weekend, food packed up tight, backup batteries for everything from the flashlights to the old CB radio in case cell towers went out.

“You secure the shed?” I asked, nodding toward the lower slope.

“Yeah,” Beckett muttered. “Braced the door and tied down the tarp. Chainsaw’s inside.”

“Good.”

I reached for another log and stacked it near the door, flexing my fingers out of habit. Cold made them stiff, even after all these years.

Didn’t stop me from doing the work, though. Wouldn’t ever.

Beckett adjusted his coat collar, then looked at the sky. “You think we’ll get hit hard?”

“We’ll be fine.” I kept my voice even. Reassuring. “Storm tracker’s saying six to eight inches by morning. Not ideal, but we’ve seen worse.”

He gave a sharp nod and didn’t say more. Beckett didn’t talk unless he needed to.

That was what I liked about him. He understood the value of quiet.

The rumble of Asher’s truck snapped my focus toward the long drive that cut through the trees.

I straightened, wiped my hands on my jeans, and frowned. He’d been gone longer than I liked.

When Lucy called earlier and asked us to check on her friend, I’d figured it was just a quick favor. A simple knock, a wellness check, maybe deliver a Thermos of soup or something.

What I hadn’t expected was the passenger.

Or the way she made my chest go tight the second she stepped out of the truck.

I’d barely seen her—hell, the snow was coming down in thick sheets now, wind carving lines across the windshield—but the second Asher opened her door, I felt her. That sounds crazy, I know. But I did.

She stepped down onto the snow-packed gravel like she wasn’t sure if she was arriving or escaping, boots crunching, oversized coat swallowing her narrow frame.

Her long, dark hair was pulled into a messy knot on top of her head, and strands of it whipped around her face as she looked up at the cabin.

Not scared. Not excited either. Just wary.

And cold.

Her cheeks were pink from the wind, her jeans still wet around the cuffs, and her mouth set in a flat line that said she wasn’t used to needing help and hated the hell out of it.

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 some one , 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 was her .

“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.

“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 exactly do you 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.”

Asher gave a low whistle. “So like a walking ad?”

She shrugged. “More like a curated chaos coordinator. It pays well. When you’re on the right side of things.”

“The right side of things?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

She looked up at me, her hazel eyes dark and hard to read. “People turn on you quick.”

Asher leaned back in his chair. “You ever fall off a ski lift or something? That’s how influencers usually go viral, right?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Not exactly. My so-called friend turned on me. I don’t think she liked the deals I was getting. She posted a video making me look like a terrible person.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “That’s all it takes? One bad moment, and people turn on you?”

She arched a brow. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I don’t understand the appeal,” I said. “Living your whole life on a screen. Making it look prettier than it is.”

Riley sat back, biscuit in hand. “You think it’s all shallow.”

“I think it’s not real.”

Her expression didn’t flinch, but her voice cooled. “And logging trees is more real?”

“It’s work. It matters. It builds something.”

“And I didn’t?” she challenged. “You ever try editing a brand video while dealing with comments about your thighs and strangers dissecting your entire life in real time?”

Beckett cleared his throat, quietly standing to grab another beer from the fridge. Asher stared between us like he was watching a particularly juicy tennis match.

“I’m not saying what you did wasn’t hard,” I said evenly. “But the world you built it in? It’s made of sand.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then smiled tightly. “Maybe. But you don’t get to judge me for the sand when you’ve never had to build there.”

That shut me up.

For a while, none of us spoke. Only the sounds of clinking silverware and the fire crackling in the hearth filled the silence.

She was infuriating. Defensive. Too quick with her comebacks. She walked into a room like she owned it, even when she didn’t want to be there.

And yet…

She made the air crackle.

She made me aware of every inch of space between us.

She made me want to keep talking just to figure out what the hell made her tick.

“Dessert?” she asked suddenly, setting her spoon down. “Or is that considered shallow too?”

Asher snorted. Beckett looked up with one raised brow. I rubbed a hand across my beard and leaned back in my chair.

“You bake?” I asked.

“No,” she said with a smirk. “But I know how to Uber Eats a damn good pie.”

I stared at her.

She winked.

God help me. I was already in trouble.

The house was quiet. Midnight had come and gone, but I couldn’t sleep.

I tossed, turned, stared at the ceiling as if it had answers. But all I saw behind my eyes was her .

Riley.

Those big hazel eyes and the curve of her mouth when she smirked. The way her voice dipped low when she was being clever.

The way her body looked wrapped in flannel, like some walking contradiction… soft curves, sharp tongue.

I buried my head in a pillow and willed my brain to shut the hell up.

And then…

I heard footsteps. Light. Barefoot.

The door creaked open.

“Garrett?” Her voice was quiet, almost shy. “Can’t sleep?”

I sat up, the sheets tangled at my waist.

She was standing there in the doorway, wearing that same flannel sleep shirt, but this time, it was unbuttoned halfway, clinging to her curves like it knew what it was doing. Her hair was messy, skin flushed like she’d just rolled out of bed.

Or maybe like she wanted to get into mine.

“No,” I said, voice rough. “I was just thinking about…”

“You were thinking about me.” Her smile was slow, wicked. “Weren’t you?”

I didn’t even try to lie.

She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click . Each step she took toward me made my blood pulse harder. She crawled up onto the bed like a cat, straddling my lap without hesitation.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” she murmured, her hands skimming over my chest, warm and curious. “Kept thinking about how you looked at me across the table. Like you wanted to eat me alive.”

My hands landed on her hips instinctively, gripping tight. Her bare skin under the hem of that shirt was smooth and hot, no panties in sight. My cock throbbed beneath the sheets.

She leaned in and kissed me, and everything went white.

Her mouth was soft, then hungry. Her fingers slipped into my hair, tugging gently. I groaned against her lips, cupping her ass and grinding her down against the ache between my legs.

She gasped when she felt how hard I was.

“Wow, Garrett.”

“Tell me to stop,” I said, already tugging her shirt open, exposing her breasts. “Tell me now.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she breathed. “I want you inside me.”

Fuck.

I flipped her onto her back in one move, settling between her thighs. Her legs wrapped around me instantly, greedy and hot and so fucking wet against the head of my cock as I slid through her folds.

“You’re soaked,” I rasped, dragging the tip over her clit just to hear her whimper. “This for me?”

She bit her lip and nodded, her hips arching. “All for you.”

I lined up and pushed in, slow and deep. She was tight, warm, slick, and perfect—and the moment I sank fully into her, I lost my mind.

Her back arched, breasts brushing my chest as I rocked into her, each thrust claiming something I didn’t even realize I wanted. She moaned my name like it was a prayer. Clawed at my shoulders. Kissed my throat.

And when she came, she shattered around me, clenching so hard I nearly followed her over the edge.

But I wanted more.

I flipped her over, dragged her hips up, and drove into her from behind, hands gripping her waist like a man possessed. Her cries were breathy, desperate, her fingers twisting in the sheets.

I bent over her back, whispering how good she felt, how fucking beautiful she was. Wild, messy, mine.

And then, a crash of thunder.

The dream cracked apart.

I shot upright in bed, breathing hard, heart pounding as if I’d just run a mile.

Cold air wrapped around me. My cock was still rock hard, the sheets damp with sweat.

What the fuck.

I dragged a hand down my face, trying to slow the thundering in my chest. But it was no use.

Because I could still feel her. Still taste her. Still hear her moan my name like it meant everything.

It had felt so real in that moment.

Too real.

And now I had to walk out there in the morning and look her in the eyes like I hadn’t just buried myself in her in my goddamn dreams.

How the hell was I going to get through this?