Page 30 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Holy shit, Caleb’s a meme now!”

“What?” Ryder asks as Beckett huffs a breath that almost sounds like a laugh.

I flick my eyes to the rearview mirror and see Ryder reaching for Tristan’s phone.

We all roast my brother for a bit, and I show them the “live replay” he sent me this morning before the guys in the back both settle down with other distractions on their phones, and Beckett pulls out?—

“Is that yarn?” I blurt, not sure what I’m seeing.

He raises a single eyebrow at me, then produces a pair of knitting needles to go with it. “Yeah.”

That’s all he gives me before turning his attention to the long, fuzzy… scarf, maybe? It looks like it’s about half finished, and his large hands wield the knitting needles dexterously as he gets to work on it.

I press my lips together so hard my cheeks ache, but it does absolutely nothing to stop the charmed grin from spreading across my face. “I didn’t know you knit.”

He makes one of his trademark grunts but doesn’t pause the steady clacking rhythm of his needles. Or answer me.

I mean, I guess technically I didn’t ask a question, but he’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to let go of something as adorably sexy as a big, gruff man knitting a fuzzy red scarf with a white snowflake pattern worked through it.

“Where did you pick that skill up?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“Have you been knitting for long?”

He glances over at me, then back at the scarf-like thing magically growing beneath his huge hands.

“A while.”

“And is the scarf a Christmas gift? Who is it for? It looks so soft.”

“Scarf?” he says, actually pausing for a moment to give me a flat look. “This is gonna be a sweater. You can’t see that?”

He holds it up.

“I, um, oh?” I stutter, looking over again and seeing nothing but a long, thin… scarf. “It’s lovely,” I add quickly, not wanting to offend or discourage him from his hobby.

But honestly, I don’t see how he’s going to takethatand make it into anything other than what it already looks like.

It’s already too long, for one thing, and for another?—

Beckett chuckles, his handsome face breaking out into a grin that’s so sexy it should be illegal.

Realization dawns on me suddenly. “You wereteasingme, you jerk.”

I smack his shoulder, which is like smacking a warm brick wall, and he shrugs unrepentantly before getting back to it.

“You’re the one who fell for it. Of course it’s a scarf.”

I reach over before I can help myself and run a hand over it, sighing happily. It really is as soft as it looks.

“Cashmere?”

He snorts. “No way. That shit is too expensive for this.”

I arch an eyebrow, unable to stop myself from fishing a little. “Are you saying she’s not worth it? Or whoever it’s for.”

He slants a look at me without breaking his knitting rhythm. “Of course they’re worth it. I donate them to the pediatric ward of the children’s hospital on Sunset. You know the one?”

---