My Secret Santa Daddies (Silver Ridge Christmas)

4. Wyatt

4

WYATT

S tanding on Sierra’s doorstep, with the cold wind at my back and Cody shifting beside me, I can’t help but be hit with the same thought that’s been lingering since I had pulled her out of that snowbank; Sierra Bennett is still stunning. More than stunning, really.

She’s changed since college, but not in a way that dulls anything. If anything, time’s only sharpened her. Her blonde hair falls loose around her face, a little wild from the day, the strands catching the light from the hallway behind her. Her blue eyes, even more vivid against the soft shadows of the evening.

She’s not dressed up—just wearing a sweater, and jeans. It’s her usual casual look—but it fits her so perfectly it almost catches me off guard. She doesn’t need the makeup, or the fancy clothes. Sierra’s always been the kind of woman whose beauty goes beyond the surface. It’s in the way she moves, in the way her eyes lock on you, like she’s always thinking five steps ahead. Like she sees straight through your bullshit.

She crosses her arms, leaning against the door frame.

“What is it then?”

I lean against the doorframe, mirroring her, trying to play it cool even though my heart’s doing that thing it always does when I’m around her—beating a little faster, like it’s remembering something I’ve tried to forget.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, something flickers there. Something that reminds me of the past, of how we were so close before everything got complicated. How badly I wanted to be the one she loved. Not Griffin. But then she nods, her expression firm, and that flicker disappears behind the wall she’s built.

Fuck this is awkward.

“So…” Cody speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s not sure where to begin. “Long time, huh?”

Sierra’s eyes flick between us, cautious and unsure. “Yeah. Long time.”

It doesn’t help that the last time we saw her was at Anna’s funeral. None of us were in a good place back then, and seeing her now, after all this time, feels… strange.

“You, uh… surprised Griffin didn’t come with you. Figured the three of you would still be inseparable.”

Cody laughs, but it’s forced. “Yeah, well, things change. Griffin’s with Jack, doing the dad thing. You know how it is. We figured we’d use the downtime to come check on you.”

She nods slowly, processing the information, but there’s something in her eyes—like she’s still wrapping her head around the fact that it’s just us standing here on her front porch.

“I’m fine, Wyatt. Like I told Susan, I don’t need anyone to check on me.”

I smile, but it’s strained. “I know you. You’ll say you’re fine even if you’re buried in snow. Just wanted to make sure.”

“You’ve checked. I’m fine. You can go.”

Cody snorts, stepping in before I can. “You’re really going to kick us out into the cold like that? We just trudged through half of Silver Ridge to get here.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Maybe,” Cody says, his grin unwavering. “But you know Wyatt won’t leave without making sure everything’s in order. Man’s got a hero complex.”

I shoot Cody a look, but he’s not wrong. I glance back at Sierra, and I can see it in her eyes—the urge to push us away, to shut the door on whatever this is. I get it. I get her. She’s always been like this.

But we’re not going anywhere. Not yet.

“Sierra,” I say, my voice dropping, more serious now, “I know you don’t want us hovering, but your car’s wrecked, and we both know it’s not going to fix itself. You don’t have to do everything alone. Let us help.”

“Jesus Christ. Why is everyone suddenly treating me like a toddler around here? I don’t need anything?—”

“I know you don’t need help. But we’re here. So let us give you a break, just this once. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she glances down at the floor, clearly trying to figure out how to get rid of us without coming off as completely heartless. But after a moment, she lets out a slow breath, her shoulders sagging just slightly.

“Fine. But don’t make this a habit.”

Cody grins, stepping through the door like he’s won some kind of prize. “No promises.”

I gesture to the heap of metal that used to be her car that I had hauled back here. “Cody and I thought we’d see if it’s worth saving. We figured we’d take a look. Cody’s a gear head, if you remember.”

“How could I forget?” She steps aside, and I follow Cody in, my mind buzzing with memories of the last time we were here together. “Thanks,” she says, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “For checking in.”

I nod, trying to keep things easy. “Anytime.”

But even as we walk into her house and she shuts the door, I can’t help but notice the way her eyes linger just a little longer on the entrance—like she’s expecting someone else to walk through it. Like maybe, even after all this time, part of her is still waiting for Griffin.

“Do you want some coffee?” she offers.

“Coffee would be good,” Cody says, taking in the sight of her home.

The lights flicker on, revealing the living room, familiar yet different. It’s still the same cozy space I remember, but it’s changed. The space feels grown up. Minimalist and sleek, with a few framed photos on the mantel. No clutter, no clues as to who she is now, or who might be waiting for her at the end of the day.

I remember the last time I had stepped foot in this house. Four years ago, drunk and angry and?—

I follow Sierra into the kitchen, the warmth of the house doing little to ease the tension between us. The quiet hum of the coffee maker fills the room as she busies herself with scooping coffee grounds into the filter. I can see the way her shoulders tense, like she’s trying to shield herself from the weight of the conversation, and everything that’s unsaid between us.

“How have you been, really?” I ask, leaning against the counter, watching her as she moves.

She doesn’t answer right away, her back still to me as she measures out the coffee. I can tell she’s considering her words carefully, trying to decide how much to let me in. Finally, she sighs, her voice softer than I expected. “I’m alive.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s... something, I guess.”

She shoots me a look over her shoulder, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of that old fire in her eyes—the one that used to light up every time she was about to say something sharp. “Don’t make me regret letting you in, Wyatt.”

I smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She turns back to the coffee maker, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. The scent of fresh coffee fills the kitchen, warm and familiar, but the air between us is still thick with tension.

“What have you been up to?” she asks casually. I can tell she’s just making small talk, trying to keep things surface-level.

“Work,” I reply, not really offering much.

She scoffs lightly, not bothering to look at me. “That’s vague.”

“What do you do?” she asks, scooping another spoonful of coffee grounds into the filter, the motion is heavy, like she’s deliberately focusing on it.

“Same stuff, mostly. Contracting jobs, construction work here and there. Nothing too exciting. What about you?”

She pauses for a moment, her movements slowing just enough for me to notice. “Still running the bakery on Main Street,” she mutters, almost like it’s an afterthought.

“I’ll need to put in an order for some of your double chocolate cookies while we’re in town.”

That earns me a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Those are still bestsellers. People have a thing for chocolate, I guess.”

I’m about to respond, but she turns around too quickly, holding a mug of fresh coffee. Her elbow knocks against the counter, sending the mug spilling over my hand.

“Shit!” I hiss, jerking my hand back as the hot coffee scalds my skin.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” she gasps, immediately grabbing a towel from the counter. She rushes over, her hands moving quickly as she dabs at the mess on my hand, her fingers brushing against my skin.

“It’s fine, really,” I say, though the sting is still fresh.

But Sierra isn’t listening. She’s already in full damage control mode, wiping at my hand, her expression tense with apology. “No, it’s not fine. You’re burned, Wyatt. Here, let me clean it up.”

Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she wraps the towel around my hand, her brows furrowed in concentration. It’s been so long since I’ve been this close to her, and for a moment, I forget about the burn, forget about the coffee. I just focus on her—on the way her fingers brush against my skin, the way her lips part with each focused exhale.

A few uses for that mouth and her soft pink lips flash through my mind. I clench my jaw, ignoring the image of her bent over the kitchen counter that suddenly flashes through my mind.

God damn it.

“Really, Sierra. It’s no big deal.”

She glances up at me, and for a second, her eyes meet mine. There’s something there, something I haven’t seen in a long time—something that’s been buried beneath all the layers of hurt and distance.

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“It’s just coffee. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

She lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh, the sound so unfamiliar on her lips that it catches me off guard. She looks down at my hand again, her fingers still wrapped around the towel, and for a moment, we just stand there, too close.

Liquid heat pours into my core and I curse Cody for lingering in the other room.

“Well, we don’t want you stuck with a permanent reminder of your brief visit back to Silver Ridge, do we?” she says, her tone lighter now, as she steps away, reaching for a second mug to take to Cody.

I take a sip, realizing then, she remembered exactly how I like my coffee. She used to pick us up orders when we’d have late night study sessions back in college.

“We should go take a look at the car,” she says, her voice more composed now. “Might as well see if it’s salvageable.”

“Ready to work some magic, Cody?” I ask, smirking as we walk out the side door in the kitchen, and back into the cold.

Cody laughs, rubbing his hands together like he’s warming up for a big project. “If by magic, you mean basic mechanic skills, then yeah. I’m ready.” He glances at Sierra with a wink. “Your car’s not dead yet, I can feel it.”

Sierra looks at him, then at the snow-covered heap of metal in the driveway. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Cody squats down beside the car, his fingers brushing away the layer of snow clinging to the hood. “It’s not in bad shape, honestly,” he says after a moment, his tone a little more serious now. “Front end’s dinged up, but the frame’s solid. The axle’s not cracked, which is good news. I’d say it needs a new windshield, tires, and probably some alignment work, but it’s not as bad as it looks. This is nothing. A couple of parts, a weekend of work, and it’ll be good as new.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “That sounds… optimistic.”

“That’s Cody for you. Always ready to jump into a project with both feet.”

“And it usually works out,” Cody adds, not missing a beat.

Sierra looks from me to him, her lips curving into a small smile. “How much would you want for the work?”

Cody stands up, brushing snow off his knees. “I’d be more than happy to consider it an early Christmas gift.”

“I don’t know if I can accept that, Cody. I mean?—”

He holds up a hand. “Listen. I know there’s been some distance between us, but that doesn’t change the fact you still matter to us.”

There’s a beat of silence, and I can see the internal battle playing out on her face.

He pauses, then adds, “And I get it, okay? I do. But we’re here now and you’re stuck with us.”

Her expression softens, as if his words have taken her by surprise. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Cody claps my shoulder. “Come on, partner. Let’s leave the lady alone for a bit, huh?”

I shoot him a look of disbelief, but he just smirks back at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Thanks for this,” she says, genuine gratitude in her voice as we head back inside.

Cody just shrugs, “It’s nothing. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to be stranded here with a banged-up car.” He turns back to her. “We’re going to haul this back with us, if that’s alright with you. It’ll be easier for me to work on it.”

“Sure, have at it,” she waves her hand. “Not like I can use it.”

“Are you going to be okay without a ride?” I ask.

“I’m going to have to be.”

“Well, we’ll come check on you later, okay?”

She rolls her eyes. “You and everyone else in this damn town.”

But there’s a trace of amusement in her voice now, something I haven’t heard in years.

With that, she turns and heads back inside the house, leaving us to it.

She might not want to admit it yet, but I know she’s glad we’re here—whether she likes it or not.