Chapter 5 #3
Tall, definitely six four, with long light brown hair, falling past his shoulders. He’s wearing all black—tactical pants, boots, some kind of vest that might be Kevlar. Blue eyes that are currently studying me.
This must be one of Chris’s partners. Has to be. No one else would be on this property, right?
“Do I know you?” His voice is calm. “What are you doing here?”
I try to find words. Any words. But my brain is struggling to process the fact that I’m covered in mud, holding on to a reindeer named Corn Dog, and facing down a man who looks like he just walked out of the woods after wrestling a bear with his bare hands and winning.
“I just—Chris—reindeer—I wanted to check—” I’m stammering, gesturing uselessly. “I thought he was home. I didn’t mean to—the gate opened and I—my name’s Hannah.”
Corn Dog chooses this moment to escape my grip, bolting toward the pasture again.
“Dammit!” I lunge after him, but the man moves faster, cutting off Corn Dog’s escape route. Between the two of us, we manage to corner the reindeer and herd him toward the fenced pen behind the barn.
The man opens the gate, and Corn Dog trots inside like he planned this whole escape just to torment me. The gate shuts with a solid click.
I exhale, leaning against the fence. “Oh my God. That reindeer is exhausting.”
“They’re all exhausting.” The man is watching me, and there’s definitely amusement in his eyes now. “But especially him.”
“Why’s he named Corn Dog?”
“That’s a long story.” He crosses his arms, and the movement makes his vest shift, revealing more tactical gear underneath. “Let me guess. You’re the event planner who kissed Chris yesterday.”
Heat floods my face. “Oh. He told you about that.”
The man’s smirk widens. “I’m Noel Saxon, by the way, and this is my home.”
Saxon. Like the original owners. “You’re related to Greg and Mary?”
“My grandparents.” He tilts his head, studying me. “How’d you know about them?”
“Mr. Walsh at the post office. I asked who owned reindeer in town.” I try to wipe mud off my face, but my hands are also muddy, so I’m probably just making it worse. “I’m really sorry for breaking into your property. I just needed to verify that Chris actually had reindeer before tomorrow’s event.”
“By breaking in.” Noel’s voice is dry. “That’s one way to do it.”
“In my defense, no one answered the call box out front.”
“Because I was watching you on my phone.” He pulls out his phone, shows me the screen. Security camera footage. Of me. Climbing the fence. “I opened the gate when I saw you dangling because I was worried you’d fall and sue us.”
Oh my God. He watched the whole thing.
“You couldn’t have given a girl a warning?” I mutter, trying not to drown in humiliation.
“I’m not used to people breaking into my property. Usually, they just knock and wait.”
“Usually, I do too. Today has been an exception.” It’s deeply unfair how attractive he is. And how he’s just standing there, emotionless, while I’m mentally melting across from him.
His scent drifts over on the breeze. Crushed pine needles and dark chocolate. It’s divine, which is bad. Very bad. I cannot be attracted to Chris’s friend as well. That’s a recipe for disaster.
But damn, the mountain air must do something to men out here, because both of them look like they were carved by very generous gods.
“Look.” I try to gather my composure, which is difficult when I’m covered in mud and probably have it in my hair.
“I’ll come clean. I’ve had some trust issues lately.
My business partner screwed me over, and I needed to know that Chris wasn’t lying about the reindeer before I showed up tomorrow with no backup plan. ”
Noel’s expression softens slightly. “That’s fair, actually. Trust is important.” He studies me, and I’m acutely aware of how disgusting I must look. “But you’re filthy. Come inside, clean up. I’ve got some clothes that’ll be too big but better than mud.”
“I can’t. I’m a mess. I’ll ruin your house.”
“The house has been through worse.” He’s already walking toward the front door. “Come on. Unless you want to drive home while covered in mud?”
He has a point.
I follow him, leaving my muddy boots outside on the porch. The door opens into a huge entryway, and I stop dead, staring.
This place is incredible.
The entrance opens into a huge great room with vaulted ceilings and exposed timber beams. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall. The furniture is all dark leather and wood, oversized couches arranged around the fireplace, a bar setup in one corner with expensive-looking bottles on display.
Animal skins hang on the walls—elk, deer, what might be a bear. There’s a huge flat-screen TV mounted above the bar. Bookshelves line another wall.
The kitchen connects through an open archway, all stainless steel and granite counters, professional-grade appliances.
To the right, a wide staircase curves up to the second floor. Multiple hallways branch off in different directions, suggesting the house goes on forever.
This isn’t a house. This is a lodge. A very masculine, very expensive lodge.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
Noel glances back at me. “Yeah, Grandfather had a thing for grand gestures. This way.”
He leads me up the stairs, which are wide enough for three people to walk side-by-side, and down a hallway with multiple doors. He opens one, gestures me inside.
“Guest bathroom. Shower’s through there. Towels are clean. Take your time.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“No problem.” He pauses in the doorway. “I’ll grab those clothes for you. When you’re done, come downstairs.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m alone in a bathroom that’s bigger than my bedroom.
I shower quickly, scrubbing mud out of my hair, off my skin, watching brown water swirl down the drain. Even my underwear has mud on it, so I rinse everything in the shower, wringing it out as best I can.
When I emerge wrapped in a towel, plush and expensive, I crack the door open and find a neat stack of clothes on the floor outside. Sweatpants, a T-shirt.
I grab them and change quickly, rolling the sweatpants at the ankles, tying the drawstring tight so they don’t fall off. The shirt hangs to mid-thigh, so I tie it at my hip, creating some semblance of a shape. It’s baggy and ridiculous, but it’s clean and dry, so I’ll take it.
I stuff my wet, muddy clothes into the plastic bag Noel left.
Craziest day ever. But on the bright side, I now know Chris wasn’t lying. The reindeer are real. This is all real.
I head downstairs barefoot, following the sound of voices.
There are three men in the great room. Noel, Chris, and a third man. They’re standing by the fireplace that’s now roaring to life.
The third man is huge, six five at least, broad and muscled, wearing the same tactical black gear as Noel. Dark blond hair, hazel-green eyes, a grin that suggests he finds everything hilarious.
They’re laughing when I emerge, and they all turn to look at me.
I freeze at the bottom of the stairs.
Three gorgeous, dangerous-looking Alphas, all staring at me while I’m wearing borrowed clothes and no shoes and probably still have mud somewhere I missed.
My body wants to sway toward them, a sudden, unexpected heat building low in my belly, which is troubling.
“Clothes,” I blurt out, because apparently that’s the only word my brain can produce.
Noel’s grin widens. “They suit you.”
“Sure. If the look I’m going for is ‘drowning in fabric.’ ” I walk farther into the room, aware of their gazes on me. “I’m Hannah, by the way. Since I haven’t officially met all of you properly.”
“Kane Reed,” the third man says and walks over to me with a bottle of water in his hand, which he offers me. I take it gratefully, gulping half of it down. “Chris told us about you, but good to finally meet you.”
Chris is smiling now, leaning against the fireplace with his arms crossed. “Good to see you again, Hannah. Though I have to say, I’m impressed. You tracked down where I live and broke into the property. That’s dedication.”
“It’s creepy, right?” My face is burning. “But in my defense, I just needed to verify that the reindeer existed. I wasn’t stalking you.”
“She was definitely stalking you,” Noel says. “Wait till I show you the footage of her dealing with Corn Dog.” Noel is already chuckling, and I’m narrowing my gaze at him.
“Nothing exciting,” I say, but they’re already nodding at Noel. Just wonderful—I’ve now become a clown.
All three of them are still grinning, and I make the mistake of stepping closer instead of farther away.
Instant regret.
Kane’s scent is new to me—gingerbread, campfire smoke, and orange zest—and it’s mixing with the scents from Chris and Noel, smothering me at once.
Heat races under my skin, and my pulse skips hard enough that I feel it in my tongue.
My knees don’t go weak, but there’s a sudden, ridiculous awareness of my own breathing, my own body, like every inch of me has woken up all at once.
I don’t do this around Alphas. Ever. Certainly not around three at the same time. My body clearly didn’t get the memo. I force my face into something normal. Businesslike. Adult-in-control-ish.
“So.” I down the rest of the water like it might drown the problem. “We’re set for tomorrow? The event?”
Chris nods. “Yeah. We’ve got the reindeer, plus goats, sheep, and a miniature horse. Along with some chickens and bunnies. Transport is squared away. We’ll show up early and handle the setup.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much. That’s… perfect.
Let me text you all the details of where to go.
” I hand him my phone where he types in his number then I send you a message with all details.
Next thing, I take a deliberate step back.
Then another. Distance helps. Not much, but enough to breathe.
“I should go. You all look busy, probably need to, I don’t know…
reorganize evidence boards or whatever bounty hunters do after catching criminals. ”
They exchange looks, definitely entertained.
I am face-planting in my own dignity. “Thanks for letting me clean up,” I add, still edging toward the door. “And your house is incredible. Really beautiful. Very… lumberjack spa.” Shut up. I need to shut up. “Oh!” I blurt. “I brought brownies. They’re in my car. For Chris. As a thank-you.”
“Brownies?” Kane perks up. “What kind?”
“Dark chocolate. Lily’s recipe. The good ones.”
“I’m already in love with your sister.”
“You and everyone else.” I shake my head, amused despite myself.
All three walk me outside, and I jam my feet back into my still-muddy boots, and freeze.
There’s a reindeer in my front seat, and my door is open. I must have forgotten to shut it when I retrieved a brownie earlier.
“Corn Dog,” Chris barks behind me, voice dropping into a warning.
The reindeer lifts its head. Its entire muzzle is smeared with crumbs. It blinks at us, unbothered, then casually dips his head back down.
“No. No, no, no—ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” I shout.
That gets everyone moving.
“What the hell—” Kane jogs forward just as Corn Dog snuffles deeply on the tray of goodies.
Noel and Kane don’t say a word, he just moves. Fast. Accurate.
They are at the reindeer’s side in seconds, one big hand on Corn Dog’s withers, guiding him back out with the kind of authority that somehow works.
“Buddy,” Kane tells the reindeer, hands braced around his neck, “those weren’t for you. And you can’t eat them in her Honda. Where are your manners?”
Corn Dog snorts crumbs at him.
I step back, mortified, watching these men wrangle a reindeer who clearly has zero shame and a new addiction.
The tray sits crooked in the passenger seat, the carrot muffins half-devoured, every top bitten clean off. The brownies right beside them are untouched. But they might have been slobbered over.
Chris takes one look at the carnage and sighs with the genuine heartbreak of a man who just lost something he loved.
Noel and Kane wrangle Corn Dog back toward the barn, still laughing, and I’m left standing by my car, feeling mortified, with Chris. “God, I’m so sorry. I’ll bring you fresh new brownies.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault. No one can control Corn Dog.” Despite everything, he’s laughing.
“Anyway, I’m curious. Why do you call him Corn Dog? I asked Noel, but he didn’t tell me.”
Chris grins. “He got into our kitchen as a baby. Found a plate of corn dogs Noel was planning to deep-fry for a barbecue. Ate about a dozen before we caught him.”
“Oh, shit.”
“His stomach swelled up like a balloon,” he adds. “Thought he was going to die. Emergency vet visit, whole dramatic ordeal. But he survived, and the vet started calling him Corn Dog, and it stuck.”
I’m laughing now. I can’t help it. “That’s the best origin story I’ve ever heard.”
“He’s a menace,” Chris says. “But he’s family.”
I turn to Chris, and the laughter fades. “Look. I’m sorry for breaking in, for letting him escape, for all of this. For not trusting you.” I pout.
“Hey.” His voice softens. “I get it. I do background checks before working with anyone new. You needed proof. That’s smart.”
“I should’ve just asked.”
“Honestly? I respect the commitment.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m entertained, and I can’t wait to watch the footage.”
Relief washes through me while I’m partly mortified. “Okay. Good. That’s good.” I climb into my driver’s seat, which smells like reindeer now, and start the engine. “I should go. Before I cause any more trouble.”
“See you tomorrow,” Chris says.
“Tomorrow. Right. The event. Where I will be professional and not break any laws.”
“Setting the bar high.”
“I’m an overachiever.”
I’m pulling away when my phone rings. Lily. I answer. “I’m alive.”
“Oh, thank God. I was about to call the police. What happened? Tell me everything.”
I glance in my rearview mirror. All three men are standing in front of the house, watching me drive away.
“I have so much to tell you,” I say.
“Then spill.”
And I do…