Page 15 of Filthy Rich Santas

Beckett leans toward the open door, sounding impatient. “You know Caleb would kill us if we let you travel alone, little menace. Now get in so we don’t get stuck with the morning commuters.”

My spirits droop a little at his gruff tone, but I scramble into the backseat after Ryder does, leaving the front to Tristan.

Of course they’re just doing this for Caleb. I still can’t find it in me to reject their offer though. And despite knowing that it’s more of an obligation than an adventure for the three of them, I can’t help feeling a little excited as we hit the freeway.

I’m still stunned it’s happening at all, but a road trip with three hot men I may or may not have been secretly crushing on forever sounds infinitely less boring than driving on my own with nothing but audiobooks and podcasts for company. In fact, for the first time since making plans to head home for Christmas, I’m actually looking forward to the trip.

Well, this part of it, at least.

“What’s got you looking so happy?” Ryder asks, nudging me with his shoulder.

I blush hard, happy beyond measure that he can’t read my mind. Thankfully, he doesn’t call me on it, moving right along without actually making me answer. As we head out of L.A., his warm, familiar banter puts me at ease, and if I can’t help notice the warmth of his body radiating into mine from how close we’re sitting, I’m the only one who has to know that.

“So, what were your holiday plans before you all decided to escort me back to New Hampshire?” I ask the three of them when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Tristan turns around to grin at me. “I was going to end up there anyway. You know Grandma Meg wouldn’t let me spend Christmas anywhere else.”

His words are full of affection, and I can’t help feeling a little jealous of how close he is with his grandmother. On the surface, I could say the same thing. My family won’t let me skip out on spending the holidays with them, either. But I’ve known Grandma Meg practically my whole life, and she’s the warmest, kindest person I know. I’d bet anything that Tristan’s Christmas with her will be everything the holiday is meant to be.

“Don’t you usually fly home?”

Tristan shrugs. “Sure, but this is a much more fun way to get back there.”

I bite my lip, holding in a smile. Even knowing Caleb probably put them up to this, it’s nice to hear.

“Were all of you already planning on heading back to New Hampshire?” I ask.

“No,” Beckett says, his eyes trained on the freeway ahead of him. “I haven’t been home for Christmas in… fuck. I don’t know how many years.”

“I’m sorry,” I say with a wince, some of my good cheer evaporating. Hearing it doesn’t really surprise me since I know he doesn’t get along with his father. I just feel bad that I’m the reason he feels like he has to do this.

Beckett grunts, shrugging, and Tristan elbows him in the side. “Don’t be an ass.”

“What?” Beckett asks, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What are you talking about?”

Next to me, Ryder rolls his eyes. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna go home for Christmas either, Beckett. It’s a pointless holiday. But you don’t hear me bitching about the road trip.”

“I’m not bitching about the road trip,” Beckett grunts.

They start to bicker, but I’m still stuck on what Ryder said.

“Pointless?” I blurt out, interrupting them.

Tristan snickers, and I see Beckett’s eyebrows go up in the rearview mirror. Ryder just shrugs, though. “Uh, yeah? I mean, it’s an over-commercialized excuse to profit by pulling on people’s heartstrings. I’m not gonna fall for that.”

I blink at him, aghast. “But Christmas iswonderful. It’s the best holiday ever!”

He gives me a slow, teasing smile. “Oh? Give me one good reason.”

“Christmas carols,” I reply promptly. “They’re cheery and fun and festive and nostalgic. You can’t tell me you don’t like any of them.”

“Nope. None,” he says, an amused note in his voice that makes it clear he’s baiting me.

I don’t care. I’m right, and I’ll prove it. “Okay, what about…All I Want For Christmas Is You?”

I start humming the tune, then sing a few of the lyrics, ignoring the way my cheeks heat up when both Beckett’s and Tristan’s deep voices join in for the chorus.

Ryder grins. “Not ringing any bells.”

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