Page 24 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Oh! Thank you,” I say, confused until I catch my new friend smiling at me.

“I did say I’d get the next one,” he reminds me.

I laugh. “Touché.”

I take a sip as my phone dings again. This time, it’s Beckett.

BECKETT: Who’s the friend?

It’s all too easy to read that one in the deep growl he would have used if he was asking me in person, and I bite my lips to hold in a smile as I imagine it.

“Who are you?” I ask the man next to me, the third drink making me feel flushed and free. “My friends would like to know.”

“Shane Ostrander,” he says, holding out his hand like it’s a formal introduction. “Cocktail snob.”

I laugh, shaking his hand. “Lana Reeves. Christmas junkie.”

“I never would have guessed,” he deadpans, making me laugh again.

My phone catches my attention with another ding. I haven’t answered Beckett’s question yet, and now the other two guys have also chimed in to find out who I’m chatting with.

“Oops.” I hold it up. “I need to report back.”

ME: His name is Shane Ostrander.

TRISTAN: What does he want?

ME: Scotch, neat.

RYDER: Boring.

ME: Right??

BECKETT: What does he really want?

I look over at Shane, holding my phone up like it’s a microphone, then pointing it at him. “Tell me what you want. What you really, really want.”

He grins. “Just to buy you a drink.”

I text that his answer to the guys, adding in that Shane’s mission is now accomplished, and get another message back right away—another one that I once again read in a certain someone’s favorite gruff, growly tone.

BECKETT: I thought you already had one.

ME: No, I already had two!

I giggle as I send that one off, feeling pretty proud of my own humor. Then I remember that I’m actually on my third now, so quickly send a follow-up text with the correction.

RYDER: What are you drinking?

TRISTAN: Only accept it if it’s in an unopened bottle.

BECKETT: Where are you?

TRISTAN: Or if the bartender handed it to you directly.

I reassure Tristan that he did, then finish off my Cosmo as the music changes from Christmas songs to current ones.

“I love this song!” I tell Shane, somehow accidentally swiping the little microphone icon on my screen that picks up my voice and sends it as texts as I fumble my phone in my enthusiasm.

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