Page 167 of Filthy Rich Santas

She immediately starts rattling off a list, and just as I’m resigning myself to a day of thinly veiled criticism and exhausting tasks, salvation arrives in the form of three familiar figures sauntering into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mrs. Reeves,” Ryder grins, charm oozing from every pore. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Mom smiles, clearly won over. “What can we do for you boys? Did you already get breakfast?”

Tristan steps forward, adjusting his glasses. “We did earlier, with Caleb. Thank you, ma’am. We were just about to head over to see my grandmother now.”

“How is Margaret?” Mom asks, making me want to roll my eyes.

I’ve never heard a single person call Tristan’s grandma by her full given name other than my mother.

“She’s doing really well, thank you. But when she heard Lana was in town, she insisted we bring her along today for a visit. You don’t mind if we steal her for a bit, do you?”

I hold my breath, hardly daring to hope for an escape.

Mom hesitates, glancing at the half-prepared appetizers. “Well, I suppose we are mostly done here. If it’s really that important to your grandmother…”

“It is,” Tristan says firmly as I snort, quickly trying to hide it with a light cough. She’s sure singing a different tune than she was a few minutes ago, though.

Luckily for me, appearances are everything to her, so she reluctantly agrees, and as we all head for the door, Caleb catches up with us.

“Mind if I tag along?” he asks with an easy grin, slinging his arm over Tristan’s shoulders. “Been a while since I’ve seen Grandma Meg.”

Tristan grins. “She’d love it.”

We all pile into the car, and as we pull away from the house, I feel the tension in my shoulders start to ease. Maybe it’s the company, maybe it’s the brief reprieve from Mom’s expectations, or more likely it’s both, but suddenly, I feel like I can breathe again.

“Thanks for the rescue,” I murmur to Tristan.

He gives me a soft smile that makes my heart flutter. “Anytime, freckles.”

“Wait,” I say as he takes a turn I wasn’t expecting. “This isn’t the way to your grandmother’s house, is it?”

He laughs. “Nope. She’s still over on Rockford Drive, but we’ve got to make a very important stop first.”

“Where?” I ask, a little thrill of adventure going through me that reminds me of all the random, offbeat places we stopped on the road trip.

Tristan grins, then mimes zipping his lips, making me laugh. A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of a quirky thrift shop whose windows are dripping with gaudy holiday decorations.

“Um, here?”

Ryder leans forward from the backseat. “Tristan didn’t tell you? Grandma Meg’s house has a dress code this time of year.”

I laugh. “What does that mean?”

“She insists on everyone wearing an ugly Christmas sweater,” Tristan says as we all get out of the car. “It’s a tradition. She says it keeps everyone from taking themselves too seriously.”

I smile. “I love it.”

Inside the store, we fan out, each on a mission to find the most outrageous sweater possible. The racks are a riot of garish colors, tinsel, and questionable design choices. I laugh as Ryder holds up a sweater with a 3D reindeer nose protruding from it.

“Oh, that’s definitely a contender.”

Ryder grins. “I don’t know, I think Beckett might need this one. It will really complement his tough guy image.”

Beckett grunts from the next aisle over. “I heard that.”

As we continue to search and joke around, I find myself relaxing in a way I haven’t since we arrived home. This easy camaraderie, the laughter, the shared looks of amusement—even with Caleb’s presence keeping it all PG, it feels so natural. Soright.

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