The Mountain Man's Christmas Promise

All she wanted was a mountain Christmas for her blog. What she’s getting is me, this cabin, and a life she’ll never leave.

Jax
I built this cabin to escape the world after losing my brother on Christmas five years ago. No guests. No visitors. No one gets past my walls.
Then I found her stuck in a ditch during a blizzard, a curvy travel blogger with dark eyes and a smart mouth, wearing city clothes that wouldn’t last an hour on my mountain.
I didn’t ask permission. I just scooped her up and brought her home.
She thinks she’s leaving when the storm clears. She keeps talking about her car, about getting back to town, about the Christmas content she came here to shoot.
But I’ve already carved space for her in every corner of this place. Her tea in my cabinet. Her spot by the fire. Her side of the bed.
I’m not letting her go back to a life that made her feel invisible.
She came here looking for a story.
She’s staying because she’s mine.

Claire
I was supposed to document a charming small-town Christmas festival. Instead, my car went sideways in a blizzard, and a mountain man appeared out of the snow like something from a dream.
Jax doesn’t talk much. He just watches me with those pale eyes and takes care of me like it’s his only job.
His cabin is remote. The storm won’t let up.
I can’t stop thinking about the way his hands feel, rough and certain and everywhere.
I’ve spent years curating the perfect life online, but nothing I’ve captured comes close to the way he looks at me. Like I’m real. Like I matter. Like I’m already his.
I came here running from loneliness dressed up as success.
But I think I just found the one place I was always meant to stay.