Page 31 of Filthy Rich Santas

I blink. “Oh. That’s kind of amazing.”

He makes another grumbly sound, shrugging off the compliment. “It’s nothing. Just something I do to help me relax and organize my thoughts. Tristan’s Grandma Meg taught me one summer when we all took turns looking out for her while she recovered from a broken hip.”

“I remember that. I didn’t realize you flew back to New Hampshire to help out, though. Weren’t you all out in Los Angeles by then?”

He nods, then shrugs again. “We all flew back.”

He must mean him, Ryder, and Tristan. I was away at school when it happened, and Caleb had already been drafted by the NHL, but I do remember hearing how Tristan had to fly home to care for his grandmother at the time.

I just didn’t realize that Ryder and Beckett went too.

They really are close.

I reach out and pet the scarf he’s making again, my heart fluttering a little at the knowledge that not only does this huge, tattooed man knit, he does it for the sweetest reason.

“This really is nice of you. Even if L.A. winters don’t get as cold as back home, I’m sure the kindness will be very much appreciated.”

“It doesn’t feel cold to you or me, maybe, but those kids feel the chill a little more what with all the crap they’re going through.”

I grin at the slightly defensive note in his voice. Sure, I’ve been crushing on him—on all three of them—for longer than I’d ever care to admit to, but there are layers there that I never knew about, and I’m instantly hungry for more.

We talk a little more about some of the projects he’s knit and the children he’s met through the pediatric hospital. The other two men chime in after a while, and the conversation switches to silly car games and random banter.

As the miles pass by, something inside me slowly relaxes, and I realize that I’m having a really good time.

Maybe, since none of them seem to feel as awkward as I do about last night, I can let it go too and enjoy this trip for what it is. Not the wicked fantasy of my dreams, but at least a chance to satisfy a different kind of yearning for these three men. I want to learn everything I can about them.

And when I see what’s waiting for us just off the next exit, I decide that the new, reinvented me isn’t going to shy away from letting them learn a little bit more about me, either. Even the ridiculous parts.

I flip on the blinker and move over into the right lane.

“Gotta pee, love?” Ryder asks from the backseat.

“No. Did you not see the sign?”

I’m practically bouncing in my seat as they all exchange a look.

Tristan is the one who answers me. “I think we all missed it. Snacks?”

I shake my head, grinning. “Better.”

“Ready to take a break from driving, little menace?” Beckett asks as he packs away his knitting.

“Maybe once we get there,” I say as I take the exit, pointing toward the gloriously tacky billboard guiding us in the right direction.

Beckett scoffs when he sees it, then folds his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Yes!”

“It’s… a dragon,” Tristan says hesitantly, like he’s not sure if he read the sign right. “Made of license plates?”

I smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Uh huh.”

“But why?”

“Why not?” Ryder answers him with a grin before I can speak. “What’s a road trip without roadside attractions?”

“Efficient,” Beckett grumbles.

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