Dad Bods and Blizzards (Dad Bod Christmas #1)

8. Eight

Eight

Naomi

Snuggled on Griz’s chest, flanked by Tubs and Woody on a bed, I filter in and out of consciousness; part sleep, part euphoria, part confusion.

Only hours ago, I was worrying about how slowly my secret money stash was growing while I steamed milk for lattes and funneled plates of food to customers at the diner. Now I’m naked, in a room at a sex club, with men I have reason not to trust.

If a girlfriend told me this was happening to her, I’d tell her to get out. But safe and dangerous have blurred.

Tubs cleaned me with a warm washcloth after Griz had sex with me. They brought me milk and cookies while we rode out the blizzard. And although I was a bit slow to understand why Woody needed a washcloth too, I finally got it.

I’m not sure how long I drifted off, but no one has moved. The air is thick with the scent of us. Their warm bodies give me a sense of protection I didn’t understand I could want or need.

How did these cinnamon rolls make my dad feel so threatened that he was going to use me to pay his debts to them? That has to mean they’re bad guys. He’s a bad guy. Or I don’t have all of the pieces to the puzzle.

The only things I know for sure are that locking me in my room was wrong. Selling a human is wrong. The way these men adore me is right.

Griz may call himself the big bad wolf, but he’s not a monster. None of them are. Woody hides his intellectual charm behind the mountain man facade. He seems as confused as I feel. Some of that may be from embarrassment.

And Tubs, the giant teddy bear, his hands gentle despite their size, strokes my arm like he’s afraid I might break. He’s holding back, I sense it.

We all are. Do they know who I am? Are we all hiding something that will shatter this tender moment if spoken aloud?

Or is Tubs just waiting for the right moment to ask if I’m ready to have sex with him?

Peeking my eyes open again, I’m tickled that people are still watching us from beyond the glass. Fewer now, which is reasonable, because who wants to watch people sleep? Then again, we’re naked and tangled. Maybe they’re sorting which body part belongs to which person. Mine would be the easy ones to pick out.

“Good afternoon.” Tubs lifts my hand and kisses it.

“Afternoon?” I wiggle off of Griz, and Tubs makes room for me to sit between them. Woody wakes up and rubs his eyes as if not believing I’m still there, before smiling at me.

Tubs says, “You crashed hard, so we let you sleep.”

It’s unsettling that I could sleep that long and to take in what I’ve done now that people see us waking and start to gather again. “Did the blizzard stop? I should get home.” I find an edge and pull the sheet over me. Why am I embarrassed now? And why would I want to go home to a room with a lock on it?

Griz says, “We talked while you were sleeping. Come home with us.”

If I hadn’t heard my dad call him Griz, my answer would be an immediate yes. But I can’t unhear that name. I also see this as an opportunity to get answers.

Woody says, “The blizzard let up and the plows ran, but another blizzard is supposed to hit in a few hours.”

How hard did I sleep that they had this discussion and found out about life outside of this room? I search their faces, trying to find the lie, the trick, but all I see is concern, desire, and something softer. Whatever this is, it’s not as simple as good and bad, right and wrong. It’s complex and confusing.

And it involves a lot of penises, which is readily apparent as Griz’s tents the sheet.

Going home with them gives me a way to play this out and learn more about them. Since I’m pretending to be in control of my life, and I can make sure Lazovski knows that I’m leaving with the men who won me, I run with it.