I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms over my sleep shirt. “What did you do to my hair?”
“Nothing.” Dane held out a mug of coffee toward me. “That’s all you, sweetheart. Or rather, all original you, coming back out to play.”
“No nicknames,” I grumbled as I cautiously approached the offered coffee like it might bite. “If my hair spontaneously turns into tinsel, I’m shaving all of you bald while you sleep.”
“Threats of violence already?” Dash’s expression remained entirely too pleased. “And here I thought we had such a productive bonding session yesterday.”
I grabbed the mug and took a sip. It was the right strength, temperature, and amount of my coffee creamer. Unnervingly perfect. “How do you know how I take my coffee?”
“Magic.” Dane gave me a look so smug it might as well have been a wink.
These men were horribly frustrating, and it was precisely the wrong time to notice how their broad shoulders seemed to fill my kitchen in a way that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
Dash pulled out a chair. “We’ve got your whole day planned. Light Christmas spirit restoration activities to ease you back in.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve got what?” The coffee suddenly tasted like betrayal.
I stared at the pair of them, setting my coffee down with a definitive clink. “Look, I’m not great at being handled. Not even before my life went full meltdown.”
Dane leaned his hip against my kitchen counter, the morning light from the window making his amber eyes practically glow. “We could work on that.” His voice dropped to a murmur that seemed to vibrate.
Something warm pooled low in my stomach. Nope. I would not become attracted to these reindeer men.
Instead, I glanced at the elaborate breakfast spread, then at the hall to my bedroom. If I moved fast enough, I could barricade myself in there for at least a few hours.
“Don’t even think about it.” Dash’s voice held an amused warning.
I sank into the chair with a groan. “I hate Christmas.” I hunched over my coffee like it could shield me from Christmas spirit intervention. “I’m guessing ‘leave me alone’ isn’t going to work with you two?”
“Not a chance.” Dane dropped a chocolate croissant onto my plate. “Look at the bright side. At least we’re feeding youfirst.”
Dash pushed a bowl of fresh berries toward me. “Consider this your official herd onboarding. Day one.”
I took a reluctant bite of the croissant. The buttery layers melted on my tongue with chocolate perfection. Damn them. “I didn’t agree to be onboarded.”
“Yet here we are.” Dash’s eyes tracked over my face, lingering on my hair. “The silver hair suits you.”
My hand shot up to my silver embarrassment. “I’m dyeing it back today.”
Dane snorted. “Good luck with that. Your body’s rejecting anything that masks your true nature. Plus, it helps with camouflage…”
I stared at my coffee, a childhood memory washing over me like an icy wave. “Camouflage...”
Six-year-old me, crouched in a snowdrift, my silver hair and pale skin making me practically invisible. The other kids called it unfair, especially when a boy wearing his mom’s furry white jacket as a makeshift nibbleknot costume kept getting spotted while I remained hidden for nearly an hour.
I blinked, the kitchen coming back into focus.
“What the hell is a nibbleknot?”
“You just remembered something?” Dash leaned forward, his broad shoulders tensing with interest.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I was hiding in the snow, and my hair made me invisible. There was a boy pretending to be... a nibbleknot?”
Dash exchanged a quick glance with Dane, something unspoken passing between them.
“A nibbleknot is a snow creature.” Dash’s voice was slow, and his tone remained careful, like he was testing the words. I knew they couldn’t tell me things directly, but he at least was trying. “It’s a… folklore thing among children. They’re said to look like a giant knot of yarn.” He looked at Dane, eyebrows arched in question.
Dane shrugged, setting down his mug. “I’ve never seen one. They leave blankets and cuddle people who need comfort.”
