Owned In Secret: Daddy & Son

Chapter 13: Building Snowmen

The morning after Liam’s interrupted kiss still lingered on Ava’s skin like a brand she couldn’t wash away.

She woke to the low crackle of the fireplace and the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Her body felt heavy, oversensitive, every nerve still humming from the way Liam had pressed her against the wall, the way his mouth had claimed hers with years of pent-up hunger. She lay there for a long minute, staring at the exposed wooden beams overhead, heart thudding as the memories replayed: his hands sliding under her hoodie, the low groan he made when she tugged his hair, the promise in his voice when he’d whispered “I’ll continue this later.”

She pressed her thighs together beneath the blanket, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly. Guilt followed immediately, sharp and familiar. Ethan’s face flashed in her mind, his quiet smile on the ice yesterday, the steady strength of his hands when he’d caught her, the way he had looked at her like she mattered.

Ava sat up, rubbing her face with both hands. The cabin was warm, the fire freshly stoked, but the storm outside continued its low, relentless howl.

She padded into the kitchen on bare feet. Ethan stood at the counter, back to her, broad shoulders moving as he sliced bread for breakfast. Liam leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, watching his father with a lazy smirk. The tension between them was subtle but present, Liam’s eyes flicked toward Ava the moment she entered, darkening with memory. Ethan turned, expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered on her a beat longer than usual.

“Morning,” Ethan said, voice low and even. He slid a plate of toast and eggs toward her. “Eat. You’ll need the energy today.”

Liam’s smirk deepened. “Big plans, Dad?”

Ethan ignored him, but Ava caught the slight tightening of his jaw. She sat at the table, forcing herself to eat even though her stomach was in knots. The silence stretched, thick with everything unsaid. Every time Liam’s eyes met hers across the table, heat flared low in her belly. Every time Ethan’s hand brushed hers while passing the coffee pot, something steadier, quieter, tugged at her chest.

After breakfast, the three of them cleared the table in a rhythm that was becoming strangely familiar. Ava wiped down the counters while Liam stacked dishes and Ethan banked the fire. The normalcy of it almost felt domestic, until Liam brushed past her in the narrow space between counter and table, his hip grazing hers deliberately. She shivered. He noticed, his smirk flashing for a split second before he turned away.

Ethan’s voice broke the moment. “Storm’s given us a break. Snow’s perfect for packing. We’re building snowmen.”

Ava blinked. “Snowmen?”

Liam laughed, the sound bright and easy. “Dad’s idea of fun. Come on, it’ll be better than staring at that dead laptop all day.”

Ethan was already pulling coats and gloves from the hook by the door. “Layers,” he told Ava, the same commanding tone from yesterday, but softer now. “Boots. Scarf. You’ll thank me when you’re not freezing in ten minutes.”

She dressed without argument this time, the memory of yesterday’s snowshoeing still fresh. Liam pulled on a hoodie but left it unzipped, his tattooed chest peeking out as always. The three of them stepped outside together into a world transformed by fresh snow.

The clearing behind the cabin was a blank canvas of untouched white, the trees heavy with powder, the air crisp and clean. Ethan handed out old buckets and sticks he’d pulled from the shed. “Three snowmen,” he said simply. “One for each of us. Make them as ridiculous as you want.”

Liam grinned, already scooping snow into a massive ball. “Challenge accepted.”

Ava laughed despite herself and joined in. The work was surprisingly fun. They rolled the heavy bottom sections together, the snow packing perfectly under their gloves. Laughter came easily, Liam’s loud and infectious as he dramatically struggled with his snowball, pretending it was too heavy for him alone. Ethan’s was quieter, a low rumble that warmed Ava from the inside every time she heard it.

At one point Liam “accidentally” rolled his snowball into Ava’s path, knocking her off balance. She stumbled into him, hands landing on his chest for support. Their eyes met, the same heated stare from the hallway last night flashing between them. Ava felt the shiver race down her spine again. Liam’s hands settled at her waist, steadying her, but his thumbs brushed just under her coat, teasing bare skin.

“Careful,” he murmured,

Ethan’s voice cut through. “Need help over there?”

Liam released her with a wink, turning back to his snowman with exaggerated innocence. Ava’s cheeks burned as she returned to her own creation, heart racing. The laughter continued, but now it masked something sharper, tension crackling beneath every shared glance, every accidental brush of shoulders or hands.

They decorated the snowmen with sticks for arms, pinecones for eyes, and old scarves Ethan produced from the shed. Liam gave his snowman a ridiculous tilted hat and a lopsided grin made of broken twigs. Ethan’s was tall and straight-backed, almost dignified, with two perfectly placed branches for arms. Ava’s ended up somewhere in between, slightly lopsided but smiling, with a scarf wrapped around its “neck” like a fashionable accessory.

They stepped back to admire their work. Liam threw an arm around Ava’s shoulders, pulling her against his side. “Yours is clearly the best. Artistic flair.”

Ethan’s gaze flicked to Liam’s arm, then to Ava’s face. He didn’t comment, but the tension between father and son thickened for a moment before Liam dropped his arm.

“Snowball fight to celebrate?” Liam suggested, already scooping snow.

The fight erupted without warning. Snow flew in every direction. Ava shrieked as a perfectly packed ball from Liam hit her shoulder, exploding in a shower of white. She retaliated, her throw catching him square in the chest. Laughter rang out, bright, genuine, masking the undercurrent of heat. Ethan joined in, his throws precise and controlled, but when one of Ava’s snowballs clipped his jaw, he actually laughed out loud, the sound deep and unexpected.

At one point Ava slipped while dodging Liam’s attack. She went down hard, landing on her back in a drift. Both men were there instantly. Liam reached her first, dropping to his knees beside her, snow dusting his hair.

“You okay?” he asked, grin wide but eyes concerned.

Ethan knelt on her other side, brushing snow from her coat with careful hands. “Breathe. Did you hit your head?”

Ava lay there between them, heart pounding, the cold seeping through her clothes while their warmth pressed in from both sides. Liam’s hand rested on her shoulder. Ethan’s fingers lingered at her collar, checking for injury. The laughter faded, replaced by something heavier. Three bodies close in the snow, breaths visible in the cold air, eyes meeting and holding.

For a heartbeat, the tension was unmistakable, Liam’s fingers tightening on her shoulder, Ethan’s gaze darkening as he looked from her to his son. Ava felt caught between them, desire and guilt twisting together in a way that left her breathless.

Then Ethan stood, offering her a hand. “Up you go.”

Liam helped from the other side. They pulled her to her feet together, their touches lingering a fraction too long. The moment broke, but the laughter returned, lighter now, a deliberate mask over the charged undercurrent.

They finished the snowmen as the light began to fade. Ava stepped back, cheeks flushed from cold and exertion, and felt something shift inside her chest. For a few precious hours, the guilt, the confusion, the pull toward both men had been buried under snowballs and laughter.

But as they walked back toward the cabin, Liam’s hand brushed hers deliberately in the snow, and Ethan’s quiet gaze lingered on her a second longer than necessary, Ava knew the mask was only temporary.

The tension was still there.

Waiting.

“You guys should head on. I’ll be there in a bit,” Ethan said, as he headed for the opposite direction of the cabin, moving toward the woodshed with the axe resting on his shoulder.

Liam responded with a thumbs up, his grin easy and unconcerned. “Sure thing, Dad.”

Ava glanced back once as they stepped inside, catching a final glimpse of Ethan’s broad back disappearing into the trees. The door clicked shut behind her and Liam, sealing them in the warm, cedar-scented cabin once more. The fire crackled invitingly, but the air between them felt anything but calm.

Liam’s hand brushed the small of her back as he passed her, the touch light but deliberate. Ava shivered, the tension snapping back into place like it had never left as she remembered his promise from the other day "I’ll continue this later.”