Page 3 of Mountain Daddy
“You don’t have to entertain this,” he says, quickly. “You could probably use the break.”
“And I don’t want to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Elsie insists. Then to her dad, in a whisper that isn’t a whisper at all: “Daddy, I like her best.”
My breath catches.
Wells closes his eyes for a second, jaw flexing. When he opens them again, the hesitation is still there—but so is something softer.
“Are you sure you don’t have other commitments?” he asks.
My heart thumps. “No.”
“Are you sure you want to spend the holiday stuck with us in a cabin in the middle of nowhere?”
Absolutely not.
I swallow. “I’m available.”
Available to babysit. Available to climb him like a tree.
Which is a thought I should absolutely—totally—not have. Not when I’m entertaining the notion of spending even more time here in close quarters.
His gaze drops to my mouth for the briefest second before he looks away sharply.
“Then I’d appreciate the help,” he says. “Just for a couple of weeks. While school’s out.”
A minute passes without either of us saying anything else, our gazes meeting. As if we’re embroiled in an unspoken staring contest.
Elsie breaks the tension by wriggling down from his arms and doing a full victory lap around the living room.
“She’s staying! She’s staying! We’re gonna make cookies!”
Wells drags a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost shy. “I’ll pay you extra, obviously.”
“You don’t have to,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I insist.”
I nod, because trying to argue with him never works. Not when he uses that tone. The one that’s all steady command and quiet certainty.
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat, “I guess we’re all settled then.”
His eyes meet mine again.
For a split second, the air between us goes electric.
I wonder if he feels it too.
Because spending Christmas here might be the best terrible idea ever.
TWO
WELLS
By the time I reach the cabin, snow is blowing sideways, stinging my face even through the scarf wrapped up to my damn eyeballs.
I stomp up the steps, shoulders aching from a full day breaking up drifts and checking the forest service routes. I’m cold. Hungry.
