Page 107 of The Very Naughty List

“Wow.”

Nick is the one who breathes the word, but I’m pretty sure we were all thinking it.

“Thanks.” She grins. “You guys don’t look half bad yourselves.”

I walk over and tilt her chin up, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “You clean up pretty good, shortcake.” I move my head to one side a little, nipping at her earlobe before adding in a low voice, “But I still stand by the fact that you look sexiest of all wearing nothing but my shirt.”

She shivers slightly, biting her lip as I straighten.

Nick and Reid fall in on either side of her as I lead her toward the door, and all four of us head out. We’re able to play things a little more relaxed tonight, since there’s no one we’re trying to impress the way we were at the ball. So despite the fact that we’re still outwardly supposed to be competing for her affections, we all arrive at her parents’ house together, not bothering to stagger our entrances.

We’re early, so no guests are here yet. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet welcome each of us with a hug, and Grandma Dee gives a special warm welcome to Nick. He’s her favorite. And it takes less than a minute for the two of them to start talking about some show that they’ve been watching together.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Mr. Bennett chuckles, gesturing out to the front walkway. “Would you strapping young lads mind helping me shovel the drive and clear out a few parking spaces along the street? I don’t want any of our guests slipping on the ice or getting their heels stuck in the snow.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Bennett.” Nick is the first one out the door to grab a shovel, with me and Reid close behind.

When Lucas joins us, it feels like old times again.

We switch off between shoveling and chipping away at some ice that’s accumulated, and with the five of us working together, it doesn’t take long for us to clear space for people to park.

After we finish, Mr. Bennett takes Reid and Nick into the garage to show off his new workbench setup. I wander back into the house and head toward the kitchen, hoping that maybe Mrs. Bennett has some homemade hot chocolate brewing, or a few hot toddies. I could really go for something to warm me up from the inside out after that shoveling.

But as I near the kitchen doorway, the sound of voices stops me.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.” Mrs. Bennett’s voice is slightly muffled, as if she’s got her head in the fridge or something. It grows clearer as she continues, and I hear the fridge door shut. “It just… seems like a bad idea. Those boys have been like family for years, and they’re your brother’s best friends.”

“I know.” Hailey’s voice is quiet.

“Aren’t you worried it will end badly?” Her mom sighs. “It seems like they’re getting along fine now, but if you get serious with one of them, what do you think will happen then?”

“It’s okay, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” There’s the sound of something being set down on the counter. “Because I’ve seen the way they look at you. All three of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on Hailey.” Her mother chuckles, although I can still hear the worry in her tone. “It’s clear as day to anyone with eyes. They’re head over heels for you. And I see the way you look at them too. All of them.”

My heart gives a heavy thud, pounding against my sternum so hard that it startles me out of my frozen state. I turn away from the door quickly, forgetting about hot chocolate and hot toddies and everything else.

The entire conversation replays in my mind as I make my way blindly through the Bennetts’ house, barely paying attention to where I’m going. But one phrase keeps getting stuck on repeat, echoing over and over.

I see the way you look at them too.

“Shit! Whoa, man. Where’s the fire?”

Lucas jerks back as I round a corner heading toward the back door of the house, holding up his hands as I almost plow into him.

“Oh, sorry.” I clear my throat, trying to wrestle my thoughts back into submission. “Uh, I was just gonna go see if any snow needed to be cleared away out back.”

He glances toward the door. “Good question. I’ll check with my dad.” When he looks back at me, his brows furrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I force a smile onto my face. “All good. Just ready for some of your mom’s famous eggnog.”

“Oh Jesus, don’t fucking remind me,” he groans.

Mrs. Bennett, god love her, made the most disgusting batch of eggnog one Christmas about five years ago, and it knocked out about half of us with food poisoning on Christmas day. Since then, she’s refused to make it from scratch, but the memory still haunts us.

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