Page 12 of Filthy Rich Santas

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I say, just to keep the peace. She’s never had any patience for my fear of flying, and that clearly isn’t going to change any time soon.

But thankfully, after a few more reminders about holiday expectations, she lets me end the call.

I sigh, lowering my phone but not moving. I probably just have a few minutes of my break left, but I just need a moment to look out at the view. To see the whole world, or at least all of Los Angeles, spread out before me, and beyond that, the endless-looking ocean.

Free. That’s what a long view like this makes me feel. And like I can breathe again.

“Are you planning on driving all the way to New Hampshire by yourself?” a voice behind me asks, making me jump.

I whip around, my heart in my throat, then immediately feel a flush rise in my cheeks.

It’s Tristan.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, my heart pounding as he saunters toward me. He might not be as physically intimidating as Beckett or as traditionally handsome as Ryder, but the scars from his childhood accident speak to his strength, and the quiet, deliberate way he always holds himself, blue-gray eyes the exact color of the ocean I was just admiring, piercing me from behind the barrier of his stylish glasses, is sexier than I’m prepared to deal with in the middle of a random workday.

I swallow hard as he reaches me, stopping just out of arm’s reach and smiling down at me with the same intensity he brings to everything he does.

“You’re going to drive all that way by yourself?” he repeats.

“Um, yes?” I clear my throat, embarrassed that it sounded so uncertain. I go on quickly, hoping he won’t notice how flustered he’s making me. “I’m heading home for Christmas, and I’ll be driving alone, but it will be fine.”

He frowns a little, looking just as doubtful as my mother sounded.

The last thing I need is one more person who doesn’t believe in me, so I go on the offensive before he can say anything about my travel plans. “Whatareyou doing here? I don’t think most of the people I work with even know that we have rooftop access, so I’m not sure how you found your way up here.”

He grins, and my breath hitches. He really is unfairly attractive. “You don’t think we can keep track of you?”

I bite my lip to hold in a smile. “You, Ryder, and Beckett? I knew it wasn’t just coincidence that I’m always seeing you guys around the city.”

He shrugs, but then his smile fades a little. “I came to make sure you’re doing okay.”

I swallow, the genuine concern in his eyes doing something to me. “Oh, um, yeah. Like you probably heard me tell my mother, I’m sure they’ll keep the highways clear, and?—”

He reaches out and brushes a stray piece of hair off my cheek, his fingers lingering for a moment and his touch rendering me mute. “No,” he says after a moment, letting his hand drop. “Not with the drive. Beckett told us you were at the club last night. And about the breakup.”

Shame rushes through me. I may have convinced myself I’m better off without Wade, but I can’t help it. For this man, for all three of them, to know I wasn’t enough for my ex is more embarrassing than I think I can stand.

But I have to, so I lift my chin and smile, putting on a brave face. “I’m fine.”

Tristan looks at me so warmly that it almost feels like he’s touching me again, even though his hands stay firmly at his sides this time. “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

For a split second, my chin trembles, and I want to tell him everything. All my doubts and insecurities. The hopes and dreams and how hard it feels to let myself actually reach for them.

That’s way too much, though. I have no doubt at all that he cares about me. They all do. But he’s just checking in, not inviting me to bare my soul to him.

I smile at him again, meaning it a little bit more even though it also takes more effort than usual to keep my true feelings under wraps.

“I really am fine,” I tell him, daring to brush my fingers over the back of his hand. “It’s been three months, and trust me, I don’t miss Wade at all. But Idohave to get back to work. My lunch break is over.”

He stares at me hard, then gives me another small smile. “Okay. I’ll let you go for now.”

Before he can step back, I surprise both of us by lunging forward and hugging him. “Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it. “I do appreciate you checking in.”

“Always,” he promises, only hesitating briefly before wrapping his arms around me too.

For a blissful moment, I’m completely surrounded by strength and acceptance, his lean, hard body molded to mine and his amber and spice scent filling my senses.

Then I go up on my toes to press a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek before making myself pull away. “Merry Christmas. Please say hello to your Grandma Meg for me.”

---