Wren
I hold the package at arm’s length and inspect it. The corners aren’t perfect. One end has more paper folded under it than the other, and the red ribbon crosses the box at an odd angle despite my attempts to straighten it. But Boone will probably destroy the wrapping in under three seconds anyway.
I set his gift beside the other two on my desk in the research shed. Rhett’s is rectangular and wrapped in dark blue paper. Cade’s is protected beneath enough layers of tissue and cardboard to survive being dropped from the roof of the cabin, although I’m still going to carry it like a newborn.
I put my coat on, then gather the gifts in a careful stack. When I open the door, the air that rushes in is cold enough to sting my nose. The afternoon light is fading fast.
The days are shorter, but they definitely aren’t empty, and neither is my life.
Winter has changed my workdays. Some of the backcountry routes are inaccessible, either because they’re buried beneath deep drifts or too dangerous to attempt. Animals are harder to find, but their tracks hold beautifully in the snow. My reports now focus on seasonal habitat use, migration patterns, and the places wildlife retreats when the mountain is covered in snow and ice.
The path from my shed to the cabin has been shoveled so thoroughly, I could walk it in slippers. One or more of my men clear it faithfully every morning, and as many times as needed throughout the day.
The cabin is glowing with warm light, both inside and out. Cade and Rhett decorated the outside with small white bulbs and pine garlands that make our home look like something out of a Christmas fairy tale. I found out it was the first time they ever decorated for the holidays, and I was honored.
I’ve been taking a lot of pictures all month, because it will never look quite the same again. Much as we love the cabin, the men intend to build an expansion when the weather warms. They’re still revising plans, but so far, the focus has been on a larger kitchen and pantry, and a much larger bedroom for all of us to share.
In the meantime, I treasure the coziness, even when it’s hard to get out of the bed in the morning because Cade’s knee is pressed against my thigh, Boone’s arm is across my waist, and Rhett’s hand is tangled in my hair.
I wouldn’t trade it, but a little more space won’t hurt.
As almost always happens, Boone opens the back door before I even reach for the handle, and delicious smells of roast meat and savory herbs rush out to greet me.
His eyes go to the stack of gifts. “What’re those?”
“Field guides.”
He arches a brow skeptically. “Now you’ve ruined the surprise,” he says.
I stretch to give him a quick kiss. “You asked.”
“Here, I’ll hold those while you take off your boots.”
“No peeking and no shaking anything.” I hurry to remove my outerwear because I don’t totally trust Boone not to do either.
Meanwhile, Rhett calls for him from the kitchen, telling him he needs to check the rolls.
I take the gifts back and hurry through the kitchen, stopping only briefly to kiss Rhett and then Cade, who are both helping to prepare Christmas Eve dinner.
“I’ll be right back to help,” I call over my shoulder as I head for the beautiful Christmas tree in the living room. It’s sparkling like the cabin, though the ornaments are sparse. The men only saved one box of ornaments from their parents’ things, and I’m looking forward to the four of us slowly growing our collection over the years.
There are already so many packages under the tree that I have to rearrange them to make room for my small contributions.
The men spoil me shamelessly, bringing me small gifts like books or new gloves every time they go into town. They do the same thing when they’re out on the trails. A shelf in my shed is filled with thoughtful offerings from my hardened former Army Rangers: a pinecone with perfectly symmetrical scales, a gray stone threaded with pale rose quartz, a twisted branch polished smooth by time.
Before I finish arranging the gifts, Boone appears behind me. “Which one’s mine?”
“You’ll find out after dinner.”
He gives me a hand up. “I should open it now, in case it’s useful for dinner.”
I press both hands to his chest, pushing him toward the kitchen. “It isn’t, but the sooner we eat, the sooner you can open it.”
He gives me one of his beautiful grins. “You know exactly how to motivate a man.”
Dinner is both excessive and delicious. Boone roasted enough meat to feed half of Moon Ridge, and with his brother’s help, also made potatoes with rosemary and garlic, green beans, fresh rolls, and chocolate cake for dessert.
We’re all cleaned up for dinner this time, and the men look especially handsome, with Boone in red flannel, Rhett in deep maroon, and Cade in dark green.
Dinner passes in warmth and teasing, along with stories about Christmases past that are both tender and funny.
Afterward, we carry our drinks into the living room, where I settle onto the rug beside the tree, and the men all sit around me, close enough that I can reach them without stretching.
It’s started snowing again outside, making it even better to be gathered around the fire.
“I’m first,” I say.
Boone’s brows lift. “You’re giving yourself a present?”
“I’m giving you yours before you start shaking boxes.”
“I wasn’t going to shake them.” When Rhett gives him a look, Boone adds, “I wasn’t going to shake them hard.”
I pass Rhett his package first, and he takes his time opening it, sliding a finger under the edge instead of tearing the paper. Inside, there’s a sturdy dark brown leather folio with sections for papers, a legal pad, and the pens he’s always leaving in different rooms.
He runs his thumb over the small gold initials stamped inside, then finds the small handwritten card tucked into the front pocket.
For plans that are about living, not just surviving.
He reads it silently, then looks at me, the firelight catching in his eyes.
“Figured you might need somewhere to keep the addition plans,” I say. “And anything else.”
His eyes drop to the note again, then he hooks a hand around the back of my neck and draws me into a kiss that’s more than a quick thank-you.
By the time he releases me, Boone is making an impatient sound. “Some of us are still waiting for our presents.”
Just to tease Boone, I give Cade his next. He peels the paper away and lifts the lid from the box to find the framed photograph from one of my trail cameras. It’s a mountain lion moving through fresh snow beneath a stand of firs, its breath visible in the cold air. The image came from a camera Cade repositioned for me after noticing tracks along a ridge I’d been monitoring.
Cade studies the image for a long moment, then turns it over and finds what I wrote beneath the date and location: You notice what everyone else misses.
His fingers rest against the card for a moment, and I recognize the subtle change in his expression that tells me he’s feeling something too deeply to show it easily.
“It’s one of the best images I’ve ever gotten,” I tell him. “Because you knew where to look.”
He sets the frame aside with care, then reaches for my hand and presses his thumb against my palm. “Thank you.”
Boone is already reaching for his box, and when I hand it to him, he tears through the paper like a kid, making us laugh. He slows down when he reaches the thick, leather-bound book, and lifts it out carefully.
The cover is stamped with The Wilder Cabin Cookbook, and in it, I’ve copied every recipe I could gather from the loose pages, stained index cards, and scraps of paper I found tucked in kitchen drawers. It includes his barbecue sauce, spice rub, and the pancakes he makes on special mornings.
He flips through and comes to the large blank section at the back, where I have a note: “For whatever comes next. New recipes and things we make together.”
He smiles, then closes the book and holds it against his chest with one hand, while he pulls me in for a kiss with the other.
When we separate, I notice Rhett looking down at his phone, his thumb moving over the screen.
I watch him, curious. Rhett rarely looks at his phone when the four of us are together unless he’s expecting something important.
As I wonder if someone sent him a holiday greeting, he glances toward the front window. A moment later, light sweeps across the curtains, an engine rumbles, and tires crunch slowly over snow.
“Are we expecting someone?” I ask.
Boone sets down the cookbook, and all three men get to their feet, their expressions far too innocent.
“Come outside,” Rhett says, offering his hand. He leads me to the front entry, where he helps me into a coat, and then we all step outside. Boone steps behind me and wraps himself around my back, shielding me from the wind.
Boyd, one of Kira’s men, steps down out of the truck with a Santa hat pulled low over his ears. “Special delivery,” he says, as he grins at us.
Before I can ask what that means, Boone covers my eyes with both hands. “Don’t peek.”
“I can’t see anything.”
“That’s the point.”
As Boone stays wrapped around me, I hear Rhett and Cade descend the porch steps. A truck door opens, there’s a rustle, a low murmur from Cade, then a tiny yip.
My heart leaps. “Was that a dog?”
Boone’s hands remain firmly over my eyes. “It was Boyd.”
“I don’t make noises like that,” Boyd says.
A small bark follows, higher and more excited than the first sound.
I grab Boone’s wrists and fidget in his arms. “Let me see.”
“Not yet.”
“Boone.”
“Now,” Rhett says, and Boone lifts his hands.
Cade is standing directly in front of me holding a puppy. She’s black with a patch of white across her chest and one white front paw. Her ears fold forward, and her feet look much too large for the rest of her body. There’s a red ribbon tied loosely around her collar.
“Oh,” I whisper.
Cade places her in my arms, and she’s warm and solid and even softer than she looks. Her paws land on my chest, and she stretches her neck to lick my chin, making me laugh.
“We talked about adopting a dog,” I say as I stare into her solemn brown eyes.
“We did,” Rhett says.
“I thought we meant sometime in the spring.”
“We reconsidered the timeline.”
The puppy licks the corner of my mouth.
“Her name’s Juniper,” Boone says. “The regional rescue took her in a few weeks ago.”
“She’s five months old,” Cade says.
“A girl.” I hug her carefully against my coat. “Finally. I won’t be quite so outnumbered.”
Cade leans close enough that Boyd can’t hear him. “You like being outnumbered.”
Heat rushes to my face, but thankfully, my cheeks are probably already red from the cold.
“Delivery complete,” Boyd says, smiling over at the four of us. “I need to get home before Kira thinks I’ve run off to the North Pole.”
Rhett goes down the steps to shake his hand. “Thank you. We couldn’t have managed the surprise without you.”
Boyd gives us all a wave, wishes us a merry Christmas, and gets back into his truck. We stand on the porch until his taillights vanish between the trees.
Once she’s inside, Juniper immediately tries to eat a piece of wrapping paper. Next, she goes after a discarded ribbon.
“We’ll need to go into town after Christmas,” I say. “She needs a bed, food, bowls, toys—”
Before I even finish the thought, Boone comes around the corner carrying a round dog bed big enough for her to grow into. Cade follows with a wooden feeding stand holding two metal bowls.
Rhett opens the hall closet and brings out bags holding food, a leash, a harness, treats, and more toys than one puppy could possibly need.
“I should have known you’d be prepared,” I tell them.
Boone holds up a tiny red sweater.
“We agreed no clothes,” Rhett says.
“You agreed. Juniper wasn’t consulted.”
I look down at the puppy in my arms, who’s stopped squirming. Her eyes are drifting closed, like she’s already decided she’s safe enough to sleep, and something inside me gives way. One moment I’m smiling at Boone and the little sweater, and the next, my throat closes, my eyes burn, and the room blurs around the edges.
Cade crosses the room and sets a hand on my shoulder. “Wren?”
“I’m fine.”
Juniper sighs against me, all sweet-smelling and warm. The puppy isn’t just a gift. She’s a promise for a future more wonderful than I ever imagined I’d have.
Cade’s hand slides from my shoulder to the back of my neck, and when Juniper opens one eye and presses her face more firmly against my chest, he makes a low sound like a laugh.
Boone comes over and kisses my damp cheek, then carefully takes the puppy so Rhett can pull me into his arms. As the three of them surround me, Juniper wriggles between us. Boone lifts her so she can lick my face again.
“Merry Christmas, Wren,” Rhett says.
“She’s the best gift,” I tell the three of them, “even though I already had everything I need.”
I look at the men I love and the puppy they’ve already made room for.
Behind us, the fire crackles. Snow gathers beyond the windows, and the Christmas lights shine around the cabin we’ll expand in the spring, not because anything about this life is lacking, but because we’re planning for it to grow.
©Stephanie Brother
The next book in the Military Mountain Men series is Protected by the Cowboys.
I’ve spent four years rebuilding my life after my ex nearly killed me. Now he’s back, and his family is hunting me. The only thing standing in their way? Three rugged mountain cowboys who’ve wanted me for years … and have no intention of sharing me with anyone but each other.
