Page 26 of Filthy Rich Santas

“You’re a goddamn magnet for this shit, little menace,” a familiar voice growls in my ear at the same time.

“Beckett?” I ask, twisting to look up at him. “I was just thinking about you!”

“The lady was dancing withme,” Shane says, sounding a little belligerent.

I turn back to him and realize that Ryder really is here. Tristan too.

“Hi,” I tell them, my stomach fluttering. “Is your meeting over?”

“Get lost,” Tristan tells Shane with quiet authority when he tries to move toward me again. “Now.”

I blink, swaying a little. The guys seem a little tense. I’m still really happy to see them, though.

Shane doesn’t seem to feel the same way. He grumbles at them for a second, but then turns and leaves.

“You should dance with me,” I tell Beckett, since he’s still right behind me. I grab both his hands when the beat picks up, wanting to share the fun, happy feeling I’m floating on with him, but the stubborn wall of muscle refuses to move.

I frown at him, then turn to Ryder and Tristan. “Come on!Noone can resist Shakira on the dance floor.”

Ryder grins at me, matching my rhythm for a minute, but when I hip-bump Tristan, he shakes his head. “We should get back to the hotel.”

“No, we should dance!”

“We’ve got to get an early start in the morning,” Beckett insists, grabbing on to my arm.

I catch Ryder’s eye and we both laugh. And then, because I’m suddenly amuchmore coordinated dancer than I ever have been before—thank you, Christmas Cranberry Cosmos—I use the hold Beckett has on me to swing myself around and shimmy up against him.

“Lana…” he growls, his grip tightening on my arm.

“Beckett…” I tease him, resting my hand on his massive chest as I mimic his tone.

He sighs, but I swear I see his lips tug upward a little.

“We really should get back,” he says, somehow managing to maneuver me off the dance floor before I realize what’s happening.

I whine in protest, and someone groans, but none of them agree to stay and dance, and by the time we get back to the hotel even I can admit that those three cocktails packed a punch.

“Do you need help getting to bed, love?” Ryder asks once they get me to my room.

“Yes, please,” happy-drunk me says, leaning my head against his shoulder and breathing him in.

Cinnamon and bergamot.I’d drink that cocktail.

“What cocktail?” Ryder asks.

I blink up at him, realizing I must’ve spoken aloud. “What?”

He shakes his head, smiling down at me. “Never mind. Let’s get you some water before you lie down.”

“On it,” Tristan says, handing me a bottled water from the room’s mini fridge.

I shake my head and push it back at him. “Nuh-uh. They overcharge for those.”

He smiles, opening the top and holding it out until I take it. “We can afford it.”

“Thank you.” I take a sip. Then another.

It’s heavenly.

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