Just don’t freak out.
You do understand that’s not comforting?
SIERRA
Good.
Keeps you sharp.
I slide my phone away, turn toward the back corridor—and walk face-first into a wall of flannel and judgment.
Roman stands dead center of the hallway like he materialized from thin air, arms crossed, face carved from quiet judgment.
Behind him, Nolan and Caleb flank like we rehearsed this.
Roman lifts a brow. “You look weird.”
“Good morning to you too,” I say. “In case you missed it, we’re buried under a freak snowstorm and possibly trapped on the side of a mountain. I think weird is allowed.”
“It’s notweather weird,” Caleb says, squinting at me like he’s checking for signs of possession. “It’s yourface. Your face is acting weird.”
Nolan studies me the way only Nolan can—clinically, silently, unfairly.
“You’re…calm,” Roman adds. “And one of your eyebrows isn’t twitching which is signature Everett in high stress situations. It should be twitching.”
“Maybe I’m growing as a person,” I say. “I’m evolved.”
Caleb snorts. “And how did that happen? You didn’t go to therapy.”
“Exactly,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Raw improvement. No co-pay.”
Roman doesn’t move. “You’re smiling.”
I resist the urge to touch my mouth. “I smile all the time.”
“No,” he says. “You charm all the time. This isn’t your customer service smile, it’s not your PR smile. Your affable bartender smile—” He gestures at my face like it’s a crime scene. “—is not that.”
I glance between the three of them and absolutely don’t picture their sister’s thighs wrapped around my face.
Much.
“You going somewhere with this,” I ask, “or are we just doing a feelings circle in the entryway while the staff panics?”
Caleb’s eyes widen like a lightbulb wentoff. “Holy shit. You got laid.”
Nolan closes his eyes. “Jesus, Caleb.”
Roman just sighs. “Subtlety was never his strong suit.”
“I am not discussing my sex life with you,” I tell them, heat climbing my neck. “Or lack thereof. Or whatever category last night falls into.”
Caleb lets out an unhinged little cheer. “Last night. You said last night. Past tense. Time-stamped. This is real-time intel, baby.”
“Shut up.”
“Wait. You didn’t hook up with the woman who bought you in the auction right?” he asks, because why start respecting boundaries now.
Roman winces. Nolan shakes his head like there’s no hope for the youngest Barrett brother ever having a filter.
