Page 207 of Filthy Rich Santas

Oliver’s eyes light up again, and he looks at Beckett like he’s just offered him the moon. “Really? You’ll help me?”

Beckett nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sure thing, kid. We’ll make it a project.”

“Afterwe get through the rest of the presents,” Vivian says in a firm voice, but she shoots Beckett a grateful look.

Oliver looks disappointed at having to wait, but he’s quickly distracted by Meg asking him to distribute a few more gifts.

I nudge Beckett gently with my elbow. “For a guy who doesn’t want kids, you’re really good with them,” I tease softly.

Beckett’s face takes on a faint flush. “Yeah, about that. I might have been rethinking my ‘no kid’ stance lately.”

My heart flutters at his words. I glance at Oliver, who’s watching raptly as Baldwin chases the squeaky toy. “Well, I can see why. Oliver could make anyone want to have a kid.”

“He’s a great kid. But it’s not just Oliver. Getting to know him helped, sure, but…” He hesitates, his gaze finding mine. “Let’s just say that being with you has made me see a lot of things differently. There are a lot of things I didn’t want before that I do now, and I think it’s not so much about thosethings, but who I want them with.”

My heart skips several beats at his words—but before I can respond, Oliver holds up the three small, carefully wrapped packages I tucked under the tree myself this morning.

“Who are these for?”

I smile at him. “Those ones are from me, for Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett.

Oliver passes them around as I explain.

“I got these at that little shop at the Christmas tree farm. They’re not much, but they made me think of each of you.”

They unwrap their gifts, revealing three ornaments shaped like frosted gingerbread cookies, just like the ones Beckett picked up for us while we were on the road.

Just like them, but each with one unique difference.

Tristan chuckles, grinning at me as he holds his ornament up next to him. “It’s perfect.”

The glasses the “cookie” is wearing are just like his. But it’s more than just how cute the similarity is.

“It made me think of you because youseeme,” I tell him. “And yours, Ryder?—”

“Reminds you of how handsome I am?” he cuts in, posing comically with the little ornament and its rakishly tilted Santa hat.

I laugh. “Exactly. But also how playful you are, and…”

“And?”

I shrug, but can feel myself blushing. “I guess the Santa hat is kind of symbolic. You weren’t a big fan of Christmas, but you were willing to indulge my love for it every step of the way. That means a lot to me.”

His gaze softens. “Youmean a lot to me.”

“To all of us,” Beckett says, his voice gruff as he runs a finger over his ornament’s festive knit scarf. He looks up at me. “I can see why you picked this one for me.”

“It reminds me of your softer side.”

He raises a single eyebrow, and Tristan, Caleb, and Ryder all laugh.

“Softer side, sis?” Caleb repeats with a grin. “You have met Beckett, right?”

Beckett holds my gaze, ignoring their teasing as I smile up at him. I fucking love that this big, gruff man has a soft side—one that has him knitting scarves for sick children and buying my nephew the overpriced toy he talked Beckett’s ear off about. And I love that he lets me see it.

“It’s amazing,” he murmurs. “Thank you, little menace. And we’ve got something for you too.”

Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett exchange a meaningful glance. Then Tristan goes to the tree and pulls a small, shimmering red envelope with delicate gold snowflakes embossed on its surface from its branches.

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