Mountain Daddy (Tinsel & Timber #5)

Chapter 1

ONE

CELIA

“Cascabel, cascabel, música de amor.”

Elsie’s sweet voice fills the cabin, drowning out the wind that’s picking up outside. Despite the dropping temperatures, my heart is warm as my little charge sings the lyrics to one of the songs she and her classmates will perform at the town’s annual Christmas Eve Tree Lighting.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure why they call it a tree lighting. The lights on the tree in the town square have been shining every night since the day after Thanksgiving.

I suppose it’s an excuse for the town to party.

And now, more than ever, I think we can all use as many opportunities to come together and be joyful.

Elsie sways back and forth in her socked feet, clutching her stuffed moose in one arm as she belts out the chorus again. I finish rinsing the dinner plates and slide them into the drying rack, listening as she drifts from Spanish to English to complete nonsense.

At six, lyrics are still more of a suggestion than a requirement to follow.

“You sound amazing,” I tell her as she twirls toward me, cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the woodstove and the effort of giving a whole performance.

She beams. “Wanna hear it again?”

I pretend to give it serious thought. “Hmm. I think I have time for one more encore. But only if Mr. Buttons sings backup.”

She holds the moose up. “He says he’ll try.”

I stifle a laugh. It’s impossible not to love this kid.

I’ve only been her teacher for a few months.

Since I moved to Alaska in August for what I thought would be a short-term contract.

When her dad asked around the school to see if any teachers would be willing to babysit on weekends when he’s on duty, I’d initially said yes for the extra cash.

But somehow she carved out a place for herself in my heart before I even noticed it happening.

She’s bright. Funny. Sweet with the biggest soft-spot for animals. And her hunky dad… Well, he’s done a heck of a job raising her.

The front door opens, letting in a rush of frigid air, and Elsie’s voice cuts off mid-verse.

“Dad!” she squeals.

I straighten as the man himself steps inside, kicking snow off his boots. Wells’s coat is dusted white, his hair damp from melting snow. He pulls the collar down, revealing the sharp cut of his jaw and that scruff he never shaves this time of year.

My heart hitches. He’s way too damn handsome for his own good. And mine.

His eyes meet mine for a second. Just long enough to send a warm, treacherous flutter through my stomach. Blinking, he bends to scoop Elsie into his arms.

“Hey, songbird. I heard you practicing. You sounded so good.” His voice is low and gravelly, making my traitorous heart skip a beat. “Were you good for Miss Celia?”

“Always, Daddy,” Elsie reports proudly. “She said Mr. Buttons and I have real talent.”

He looks up at me, one eyebrow raised. “Did she now?”

I shrug. “I mean... he’s got potential.”

He snorts softly. “I’ll make sure his agent gets in touch.”

God, why does everything he says hit me right in the center of my chest? Maybe it’s the voice. Or the smile that always seems to be waiting to spread across his face.

Maybe it’s the way he’s such a solid presence. He’s quiet and dependable. A little gruff, but with a softness that slips out every time he’s around Elsie.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s completely off-limits, and I secretly have a penchant for the forbidden.

I wipe my hands on a towel. “How was work?”

“Cold. Busy.” He runs a hand down Elsie’s hair, expression tightening for a moment. “It’s not slowing down anytime soon.”

Wells works for the park system’s forestry division, helping maintain trails and snow-packed access roads through the surrounding mountains. It’s rugged, physical work, but it preserves this slice of paradise for the future.

And he’s good at it. Even if it wrecks his schedule this time of year.

“I can stay a little later tonight if you need,” I offer, but he shakes his head.

“You’ve already done too much for us.”

My stomach warms. “It’s not too much.”

He holds my gaze a beat too long. I look away first.

Elsie twists in his arms and drops her cheek to his shoulder.

“Daddy? Do I have to go to Nana and Papa’s for Christmas?”

Oh. He already told her.

“We talked about this,” he sighs heavily. “Daddy’s got a lot of work to do this time of year. The roads won’t clear themselves.”

“I wanna stay here.”

Wells rubs her back. “I know, lovebug.”

She lifts her head and turns big brown eyes on me.

“Celia, are you going somewhere for Christmas?”

The question hits me square in the chest, because the answer is an unqualified “No.”

I force a smile. “I don’t have plans yet.”

“Are you going home?”

I swallow. “No. Not this year.”

My family’s in Nebraska. Even if I could afford the flights right now, the storms coming through would delay everything.

So I’ll probably spend the holidays in my little place in town. Watching movies under a blanket in bed.

Elsie’s face lights up. “Dad, can Celia babysit me for Christmas break instead? Pleeeeease?”

The room goes still.

Wells tucks her closer, like he’s bracing for impact. “That’s not really—”

“Please? She can watch me while you work, and we can bake cookies and build the gingerbread house and I don’t have to leave you for Christmas!”

“Elsie—”

“And she’s lonely,” she adds, unwittingly cutting for a six-year-old. “She said she doesn’t have plans.”

Heat floods my cheeks. I never said I was lonely. But if there’s one thing about my girl, she’s intuitive as can be.

And, in this case, she’s not wrong.

Wells’ eyes flick to mine again. Suddenly, I’m aware of how small this cabin is. How close we’re standing. How warm the air feels even though cold is still creeping in through the door behind him.

“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.