Page 6 of Unholy Night

A door swung open and in waltzed more man candy. He was tall, slender but just as ripped as Zander, with brown hair and light green eyes. Fucking gorgeous. What was this? A hot lumberjack convention?

“What other guests?” The new one snickered.

My stomach dropped. “The other guests that are staying here.”

“It’s just you, baby.” He winked and plopped down into a tinsel-wrapped chair.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. “Okay, first of all, don’t call me baby. Second, that’s impossible. When I booked, I had to settle for a regular room because all the suites were sold out. And third, instead of sitting on your ass, maybe you could, oh, I don’t know, get me a drink or something. You know if it’s not too inconvenient for you.”

Something wild flickered in his eyes. He stood and walked into me, forcing me back against the wall. Towering over me, he placed both hands on the wall, boxing me in. “First of all,” he began, mimicking me, “the inn was fully booked but everyone checked out before the storm.” He pressed his chest against mine. “Second, I will happily get you a drink if you ask nicely.” His lips hovered over my ear, his breath tickling me. “And third… I think you liked it when I called you baby.”

Holy fuck, I couldn’t breathe. This man was fucking hot.

“Let her go, Vance.”

I blinked and finally forced myself to look away from Vance’s striking green eyes. Roman and Penn were here too now. Four of the sexiest men I’d ever seen and me, just me, trapped in the inn that murdered Christmas. For three nights. Shit.

Vance chuckled and backed off, returning to his tinsel-covered chair.

“Sorry about that, Miss Radleigh. Vance is harmless. Just an asshole,” Roman quipped as he shot the man in question a dirty look.

There was no way in reindeer hell that any of these fuckboy-looking specimens were harmless. Not a chance. They might as well have been wearing T-shirts that said, I’ll give you the best fuck of your life and then you’ll never hear from me again.

I waved him off, annoyed, and strutted to the farthest table in the room—one by the window that was set for two. “Can I get a menu, please, or do you all have an Only Fans meeting you need to get to?”

Snickers and chuckles erupted from the snarky little group of man junk. The testosterone was so thick in this room you could practically cut it and slice it.

Roman, the one who checked me in, laid a blank piece of paper in front of me.

I sighed extra loud. “What, you want an autograph first?”

He clicked his pen and offered it to me. “Write down what you want to eat, and we’ll do our best to make it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I snatched the pen out of his hand. “Anything? Like if I write down champagne and caviar, you’re just going to go back there, wave your magic Christmas wand, and poof, there it is?” I highly doubted there were tins of caviar floating around this monstrosity. Champagne maybe.

Vance snorted. “That’s what you want for dinner? Caviar? Not very filling.”

Oh my god. These assholes were stepping on my last nerve. “I know that and no I don’t want caviar for dinner. I’m just trying to make a point.” I waved the pen in his direction. “You want me to write down what I want but I don’t even know what you have.”

Zander approached the table and knelt down. So patronizing. “How about this, beautiful, you let us come up with something tasty for you. Any allergies we should know about?”

I looked around, all four of them grinning like they were up to no good and sank back against my chair. “Fine. But I swear to God if you bring me a fucking gingerbread house, I’m going to lose it. And please someone pour me a drink.” I glared at Zander.

Roman chuckled. “Vance go get Miss Radleigh a drink.”

“Sorry, but I don’t know how to make a cosmopolitan,” he snickered.

Ugh, douchebag. “What, your mom never taught you how she likes them? I’ll take a whiskey straight thanks. Make it a double. You know what, fuck it. Just bring me a glass and the bottle.”

Penn burst out laughing. “I like her.”

“Fuck off, Pencil,” Vance snapped as he walked back into what I assumed was the kitchen.

Roman and Penn followed behind, but Zander lingered for a moment; his gaze fixated on mine. “What’s a woman like you doing in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve?”

A knot formed in my stomach. “A woman like what exactly?”

He licked his lips. His full sexy mouth-watering lips. “Smart, rich, stunning as hell… I would think a woman like you would have a boyfriend, a husband, or at least a friend with benefits to spend the holidays with.”

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