My Secret Santa Axton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

4. Pesky Walls

Pesky Walls

AXTON

I pull up to the Peterson Ranch, the familiar sight of the sprawling property stirring a mix of emotions I'd rather not examine too closely.

The old bunkhouse looms in the distance, its weathered frame a stark reminder of the task ahead. I'm here to meet Big Bear, to get started on this time-sensitive project he'd asked for help with. It's a favor I couldn't refuse, not after everything he's done for me over the years.

My phone buzzes. I glance at Everett's message, my mind briefly flashing to Operation Veilstone. The memory serves as a sharp reminder of the dangers inherent in our work with Raven V, a world away from this peaceful ranch.

Raven V—Everett, Owen, Callum, Jace, and me. Five ex-Marines turned brothers now covert operatives. Each with our own specialties.

We operate under the guise of Everett's tech company, Aegis Consultancy Services, taking on missions too sensitive for official channels. It's a dangerous game we play, balancing our civilian lives with the high-stakes world of international espionage.

Operation Veilstone was our first major mission. Eastern Europe, Serbia to be exact. Our objective: extract a high-value target, a defected intelligence officer with critical information. The kind of intel that could topple governments if it fell into the wrong hands.

I handle demolitions and heavy weapons. I was there to create diversions, clear obstacles, and provide the muscle when things got dicey. And they did get dicey.

I remember the weight of my gear, the tension coiling in my muscles as we moved through enemy territory. Callum's voice in my ear, guiding us past patrols. Owen leading the ground team with surgical precision. Jace, ready for extraction at a moment's notice.

And Everett, our puppet master, coordinating it all from his high-tech command center back in Montana.

We faced unexpected challenges—reinforcements we hadn't anticipated, a compromised local asset. But we adapted, overcame. In the end, we got our target out. No casualties on our side. A success by any measure.

But something about that mission has stuck with me. A nagging feeling that we'd set something in motion, something bigger than we realized.

I step out of my truck, the familiar crunch of gravel under my boots.

Peterson Ranch stretches out before me, a patchwork of green pastures and weathered wooden fences. The mountains loom in the distance, their snow-capped peaks touching the clear blue sky.

The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and fresh hay. Horses graze in the nearby field, their tails swishing lazily. The old red barn stands tall, its paint faded but still proud. It's where I spent countless hours working alongside Big Bear, learning the ropes of ranch life.

A gentle breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the distant sound of cattle lowing. It's a melody I know by heart, one that's been the backdrop to some of the best moments of my life.

My eyes drift to the farmhouse, its wraparound porch as inviting as ever. I can almost hear the echo of laughter from summer evenings spent there, sharing stories and cold beers with Big Bear after a long day's work.

This place... it's more than just land and buildings. It's where I found myself, where I learned what it meant to belong. Big Bear took me under his wing when I was just a lost kid, gave me purpose and direction. He showed me what a real father should be, without ever trying to replace mine.

I take a deep breath, letting the peace of this place wash over me. No matter how long I'm gone or how far I roam, Peterson Ranch always feels like coming home. It's a feeling I've never quite been able to shake, even when I tried my damnedest to leave it all behind.

Shaking off the nostalgia, I head towards the old bunkhouse. Time to get to work.

I look up, expecting to see Big Bear's imposing figure, but instead, my heart skips a beat. Mel stands by the bunkhouse, her presence catching me off guard. I walk over, trying to keep my expression neutral.

"You're not Big Bear," I say, aiming for casual but hearing the mix of surprise and something else—excitement?—in my voice.

Mel's lips curve into a knowing smile. "Observant as ever, Axton. I'm overseeing this project for Dad. It's a gift for Mamma."

I stare at Mel, my heart racing. The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. I can't help but think of Kenzie's abduction during Everett's mission. The memory of that fear, that helplessness, still haunts me.

"Look, Mel," I start, my voice gruff. "I know I've been... intense lately."

She raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking in a sardonic smile. "Intense? That's one way to put it. You've been hovering like a damn helicopter, Axton."

"I can't help it. After what happened with Kenzie..."

"I'm not Kenzie," Mel interrupts, her eyes flashing. "I'm a big girl."

She's right, of course. But the need to keep her safe, to know where she is at all times, it's like an itch I can't scratch. Even though I know it pisses her off.

"I know," I admit. "I just... I made a promise to keep you safe."

"To who?" she challenges.

"To myself," I say quietly.

Mel's expression softens slightly. "Ax, I appreciate the thought. But you can't protect me from everything. And frankly, it's driving me crazy."

I nod, acknowledging the truth in her words. "I'll try to back off. But Mel, you gotta understand. The thought of anything happening to you..."

I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. The idea of Mel in danger, of losing her, it's more than I can bear.

She steps closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. The touch sends a jolt through me.

"I'm not going anywhere, Axton," she says softly. "But you've got to trust me to take care of myself."

I meet her gaze, seeing the strength and determination there. It's one of the things I've always admired about her.

"I'll try," I promise, knowing it won't be easy. "I see. Well, shall we get started then?"

We begin our tour of the bunkhouse, Mel outlining her concerns about safety protocols. Her voice carries a weight of responsibility, reminding me that this isn't just another job—it's her family's legacy.

"We need to be extra careful with the support beams," she says, pointing to the ceiling. "Some of these have been here since my great-grandfather's time."

I nod. "We'll take every precaution, Mel. My team is experienced in handling delicate structures."

She frowns, clearly not satisfied with my response. "This isn't just about experience, Axton. It's about understanding what this place means to us."

I can feel her frustration building, see it in the set of her shoulders and the fire in her eyes. It's making it harder to maintain my professional distance.

"I understand it's important. I've been doing this for almost fifteen years," I say, my voice level. "We'll treat it with the respect it deserves."

"But this isn't just another job, Axton. It's my mother's gift. Try not to screw it up."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I clench my jaw, fighting to keep my composure. "I hear you, Mel. We'll do it right."

I clench my jaw, watching Mel as she moves around the bunkhouse, her clipboard clutched tightly to her chest. She's all business, her eyes never quite meeting mine as she rattles off safety protocols and project timelines.

"We need to ensure minimal disruption to the ranch operations," she says, her voice clipped. "The horses get spooked easily, so we'll need to coordinate demolition times carefully."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The air between us is thick with unspoken words and buried feelings. It's like we're dancing around each other, afraid to get too close.

"Got it," I finally manage. "I'll make sure my team knows the schedule."

Mel's eyes flick to mine for a brief moment, and I catch a glimpse of something—hurt? Frustration? Before I can decipher it, she's looking away again.

"Good," she says. "I'll need daily updates on progress. We can't afford any delays."

I bristle at her tone. "I know how to run a job site, Mel."

She stiffens, her grip on the clipboard tightening. "I'm just doing my job, Axton. Someone has to keep things on track."

The accusation in her voice is clear. I'm the one who left, who derailed whatever we might have had. The guilt and regret I've been carrying for years threatens to choke me.

"Right," I say, my voice gruff. "Because I'm so unreliable."

Mel's eyes flash with anger. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

We stand, tension gripping us like a vice. I want to reach out, to bridge this chasm that's opened up between us. But I don't know how.

Every instinct screams at me to protect her—from the dangers of my work, from the mess that is my life. From me.

But God, I want her. The urge to pull her close, to feel her body against mine, is almost overwhelming. I clench my fists, forcing myself to stay put.

Mel takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "Let's just... focus on the job, okay?"

I nod, hating the distance between us but not knowing how to close it. "Yeah. Okay."

Her eyes search my face, looking for something I'm not sure I can give her.

"Why are you always so closed off?" she asks, her voice softer now, tinged with hurt. "We used to be friends."

I feel my resolve wavering, my carefully constructed walls threatening to crumble. "You wouldn't understand," I mutter, looking away.

Mel steps closer, her voice gentle but insistent. "Maybe I would if you'd let me."

Her words slice through my defenses, leaving me raw and exposed. I'm torn between the need to protect her by keeping my distance and the undeniable pull I feel towards her.

Before I can respond, Mel reaches for a ladder, intent on checking part of the structure. She loses her balance, and without thinking, I reach out to catch her. My hand grips her waist, steadying her, and suddenly we're face to face, inches apart.

Time seems to stop. I'm acutely aware of her warmth, the softness of her skin under my palm. Her eyes meet mine, wide with surprise and something else—anticipation?

I don't consciously decide to kiss her. One moment we're staring at each other, the next my lips are on hers.

The world stops. Her lips are soft, warm, familiar yet new. My heart pounds as memories flood back - that summer night, the porch light, the taste of hope and heartbreak. But this is now, not then.

Mel freezes for a split second, then melts into me. Her hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer. I cup her face, fingers tangling in her curls. She tastes like cinnamon and possibility.

Fifteen years of longing pour into this kiss. It's tender and fierce, gentle and desperate. I pour every unsaid word, every regret, every dream into it. Mel matches me, her lips moving with a passion that steals my breath.

We break apart, gasping. Mel's eyes are wide, searching mine. I see questions there, hope and fear warring. My thumb traces her cheekbone. I want to say something, anything, but words fail me.

I pull back, stunned by my own actions. Mel's gaze drops to the floor, her breath unsteady. My hand is still at her waist, and I can't let go.

"Axton," she whispers, her voice trembling.

The sound of my name on her lips snaps me back to reality. What am I doing? I can't give her what she deserves. I'll only hurt her again.

I step back, dropping my hands. "We should get back to work."

Hurt flashes in Mel's eyes. She straightens, chin lifting. "Right. Of course not."

I watch her walk away, my lips still tingling. The distance between us feels like miles.

I open my mouth, close it again. What can I possibly say?

The sound of approaching voices breaks the spell. My team—Benny, Riley, and Tasha—are arriving. I step back, my professional mask sliding back into place even as my heart races.

"Morning, team," I call out, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "Let's get started on the assessment."

I can feel Mel's eyes on me, but I don't look at her. Can't look at her. Instead, I focus on briefing my crew, outlining the project scope with a firm, authoritative tone.

"Benny, I need you to double-check all the permits. Riley, start mapping out our demolition plan. Tasha, coordinate with the ranch staff about scheduling and access."

As I speak, I'm hyper-aware of Mel's presence nearby. I can sense her frustration growing as I treat her like just another client, as if the kiss never happened.

Yet, I must do this, or I won't be able to suppress the intense yearning inside me that only seems to crave her, because it's always been her.

When the team disperses to their tasks, Mel corners me, her voice low and intense. "You can't just keep running away, Axton."

I clench my jaw, saying nothing. Her words hit too close to home, chipping away at the walls I've built.

"Because one day, I won't come back."

She walks away, leaving me alone, the weight of her accusation pressing down on me. I watch her go, feeling the distance between us grow with every step.

For a moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to let her in, to stop running. But then reality crashes back in. I have a job to do, a team to lead. I can't afford distractions, no matter how tempting.

I take a deep breath, forcing my thoughts back to the task at hand. The old bunkhouse looms before me, a reminder of why I'm here. Big Bear's always had my back, even when I didn't deserve it. I owe him this much.

"Let's get started," I call out to my team, pushing thoughts of Mel aside.

Benny approaches, clipboard in hand. "I've got the permits sorted. We're good to go."

I nod, grateful for his efficiency. "Thanks. Riley, what's our demolition plan look like?"

As Riley outlines the strategy, I feel Mel's eyes on me. It takes everything I have not to look her way. Being this close to her, it's like a physical ache. But she deserves better than what I can offer.

"Sounds solid," I tell Riley when he finishes. "Tasha, you coordinated with the ranch staff?"

"All set," she confirms. "We've got a clear schedule that won't disrupt their operations."

I give my team a quick once-over. They're ready, waiting for my lead. This is what I'm good at – focusing on the job, pushing everything else aside. It's how I've survived this long.

"Alright, let's move out," I order, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

As we head towards the bunkhouse, I steel myself for the long days ahead, pushing thoughts of Mel and the kiss to the back of my mind. It won't be easy, working so close to Mel.

But I've faced worse. I can do this. I have to.

For Big Bear. For the team. For Mel's own good.

No matter how much it hurts.

But even as I immerse myself in the project details, a pesky question crawls to the front of my mind, wondering if all this distance I put between myself and the world is keeping me safe—or just keeping me lonely.