Page 212 of Filthy Rich Santas

But best of all, I find a quick sketch I made on a napkin that shows all three of them, huddled over an actual paper map at a rest stop when we passed through a remote area that had really crappy cell service. It’s a simple line drawing, but it captures the easy camaraderie between all three of them, and the way they fit together so naturally—with each other, but now with me too.

“It’s like a scrapbook of our trip. I can’t believe you saved them all.” I smile up at him, cupping the rough stubble on his jaw. “Thank you.”

“Thankyou,” he says, emotion shining in his eyes. “I love that you documented all these memories for us.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Is that what I was doing?”

“That’s what you always do.” He hesitates for a moment, then turns to his dresser. “Let me show you something else.”

He opens the top drawer and pulls out another stack of mis-matched papers, holding them against his chest for a moment when I reach for them.

“Beckett? What is it?”

“It’s…”

He laughs softly, shaking his head, then finally hands them over with a shrug.

“These are mine,” I whisper, my eyes widening as I take them. This stack of sketches is even more eclectic, and it goes backyears—quick doodles I made at family barbecues, holiday gatherings, lazy summer afternoons when I was just Caleb’s little sister hanging around with him and his friends. All things I did just to entertain myself. All pictures I tossed in the trash, convinced by my parents that there was no value to my “hobby” other than that.

My heart swells as I flip through them, memories flooding back. “You kept these?” I breathe, my voice barely audible. “All this time?”

Beckett rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admits softly. “I guess… some part of me always knew.”

“Knew what?”

I look up at him, and he meets my gaze, his gorgeous green eyes both intense and vulnerable.

“It’s always been you. Even when I didn’t realize it, didn’t want to admit it, and even when I tried to deny it… it’salwaysbeen you, Lana.”

My heart stutters in my chest, emotions rising so fast in me that I don’t know what to do with them. But instinct takes over, and I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss him, pouring everything I have into it.

He groans, his arms wrapping me tight as he surrounds me with the scent of cedar and leather that’s uniquely him, and with something else too. With safety and belonging and love… and home.

As the kiss deepens, I hear Ryder and Tristan come into the room.

“Now that’s a sight to come home to,” Tristan murmurs as both men approach.

“That’s a sight to ring in a New Year to,” Ryder corrects him, heat in his tone.

As if on cue, we hear the distant sounds of fireworks starting, and Tristan glances at the time on his phone. “Ten seconds to go. Should we count down?”

We gather in a tight circle, arms around each other, and it feels like the very same fireworks lighting up the sky outside Beckett’s window are going off in my heart too. This moment is perfect. No big parties, no elaborate celebrations— just the four of us, in this quiet room, on the cusp of a new year and a new chapter in our lives.

“Three… two… one… happy new year!” we all say in unison, laughing at the muffled sounds of a city celebrating from out in the street.

As the clock strikes midnight, I’m passed from one set of arms to another as they all kiss me. Their hands start to wander as the air heats up around us and my clothes start coming off.

“You up for this, little menace?” Beckett murmurs, lips trailing down my throat.

The care he’s always taking with me makes my heart feel two sizes too big, and a giddy kind of joy fills me, taking my arousal and turning it into something almost magical.

“I agree with Ryder,” I breathe. “It’s the perfect way to ring in the New Year. After all, they say you start the year the same way you intend to go on.”

“In that case,” Ryder says with a wicked grin, “I vote that we spend the first several hours of this year fucking our girl.”

I like the sound of that.

And I like it even better when they follow through.

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