Page 80 of Filthy Rich Santas

The clerk grins, clearly amused by my enthusiasm, but I can’t help it. Something like this is definitely a holiday experience I can’t get back in L.A.

“It’s only about a fifteen-minute drive from here,” he explains. “They’ve got tree cutting, a little market, hot chocolate… I’m not sure of their hours, but it’s quite popular this time of year, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy it.”

I turn to the guys, practically bouncing on my toes. “Can we go? Please?”

“I suppose we could manage that,” Beckett rumbles, sounding a bit put upon.

I don’t buy it for a minute, though. I think I’m starting to be able to read the different versions of his resting grumpy face, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s not as opposed as he’s letting on.

Tristan agrees too, but Ryder, predictably, rolls his eyes.

“Christmas trees. Joy,” he deadpans. “It’s just what our hotel room needs.”

“Oh, come on,” I tease, poking him in the side. “It will be fun! And you did hear that they have hot chocolate, didn’t you?”

He grabs my hand to keep me from continuing to poke him, pulling me close.

“I suppose I can endure it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “If it makes you happy.”

I beam at all of them, my heart swelling with affection. “Thank you,” I say softly. “This means a lot to me.”

As we head back upstairs to grab our coats and scarves, I feel a little giddy. It’s silly, maybe, to be so excited about something as simple as a Christmas tree farm. But after years of sterile, picture-perfect holidays with my family, the idea of tramping through the snow with these three men, surrounded by the scent of pine and the promise of hot chocolate feels like the start of a whole new kind of Christmas magic. The kind that Christmas is supposed to be about.

And that feeling only intensifies when we finally get there.

As we pull up into the lot, I gasp. The farm is laid out like a Hallmark movie set, with twinkling lights, evergreen scents, and velvety red bows and bells everywhere.

“Look!” I exclaim, pointing to a sign after we all pile out of the SUV. “They have a Christmas tree maze!”

Ryder groans, but I catch the hint of a smile. “A maze? Really?”

“Scared you’ll get lost?” Tristan teases, nudging him.

“Is it fear?” Beckett deadpans. “Or just accepting the inevitable?”

“Oh, it’son,” Ryder answers, his competitive spirit triggered. “Come on.”

He drags us over to the maze, and the guys continue to tease him about his lack of sense of direction as we make our way through it, laughing every time we hit dead ends and have to backtrack.

It’s all in good fun, though, and after we’ve wandered through it for an hour, I’m pretty sure we can all agree thatnoneof us has a very good sense of direction. Not when all the trees look the same.

At one point, Beckett lifts me up so I can see over the trees, and I finally direct us out, feeling like a queen on her throne as the three of them praise me for saving them.

It’s…glorious. And as we continue to explore the farm, I’m struck by how easy it all feels. We’ve crossed a line into new territory, but the banter and laughter flow just as naturally as they always have between us. Maybe even more so now that it feels like they’ve stopped treating me like Caleb’s little sister; like they’re really seeing me as a woman in my own right for once.

After a while, we come across a section of pre-decorated trees, each one a different theme. I’m admiring a whimsical Alice in Wonderland tree when I hear Ryder yelp behind me.

I turn to see him covered in snow, cursing colorfully at a laughing Beckett and Tristan.

“You assholes!” Ryder sputters, shaking snow from his hair. “You told me there was a squirrel under there!”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Oh my god, your face!”

Ryder narrows his eyes at me, a dangerous glint in them. “You think that’s funny, do you, love?”

Before I can react, he scoops me up, threatening to drop me in a snowbank. I shriek with laughter, clinging to him.

“No, no! I take it back! You’re very manly and not at all gullible!”

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