Page 82 of Filthy Rich Santas

He nods, grunting in acknowledgment as he places the order and pulls out his wallet, and I have to bite back a grin of my own at the faint hint of color on his cheeks.

She’s getting to him too. Not that I can blame him. Her smile is like a ray of goddamn sunshine, and none of us are immune to it.

Lana insists that we all get some hot chocolate, then laughs with joy when Ryder hooks his arm through hers and drags her toward a display of hand-painted ornaments. His Grinch-like tendencies are nowhere to be seen as he watches her trail her fingers over the ornaments almost reverently.

The soft glow of the Christmas lights illuminates her face, and I’m struck suddenly by how beautiful she is.

It’s not a new realization. I’ve always known Lana is attractive. But something about seeing her like this, so open and joyful, hits me right in the chest.

“Earth to Tristan.” Beckett chuckles, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You want one of these cookies, or should I just eat the rest of them while you moon over Caleb’s sister?”

I flip him off and grab a cookie, perfectly aware of what he’s doing. I get it. Lana is off limits outside of this weird holiday bubble we’re all in. But I’ve known Beckett long enough to see right through him, and it’s notmehe’s trying to remind of that fact right now.

He starts grumbling about some of the club business we took care of this morning, slowly ambling along next to me as we follow Lana and Ryder, but I already know there’s nothing urgent happening with Radiance, so I tune him out and let my gaze drift back to Lana.

She’s moved on to a towering Christmas tree, decorated with what looks like hundreds of ornaments. Her face is tilted up, eyes wide as she takes it all in, and I’m struck by the thought that for all the success I’ve had in my life, being a part of putting that smile on her face feels like my greatest accomplishment.

And temporary agreement or not, I want tokeepdoing it.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, pushing the thought away fast. It’s not possible. At least, not like this.

“Problem?” Beckett asks.

I shake my head, then laugh when Ryder glances back and sends the two of us a look of total dismay, mouthing a silent “save me.”

Lana has managed to drag him over to the guy dressed up as Santa in the corner who’s taking pictures with kids, and even Beckett chuckles when Ryder shakes his head emphatically after she gestures toward the short line of families waiting to sit on his lap.

“Come on,” I murmur. “Bro code. We’re going to have to intervene.”

We catch up to them just as the last family finishes getting their photos and Santa turns his attention to Lana.

“Ho Ho Ho!” he says, playing it up like he’s the real thing. He pats his lap. “Come on over and tell me what you want for Christmas, little lady!”

Lana’s eyes go wide. “Me? Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Afraid you’re not on the nice list this year?” Santa teases her, making me narrow my eyes when his own eyes flicker with interest, his smile just a little too wide in my opinion.

The white hair and beard are clearly part of the costume, and if I’m not mistaken, so is all the padding. This isn’t some jolly old man. He can’t be much older than we are, and even if the flirty banter he falls into with Lana is innocent enough not to get him in trouble in this family-friendly setting, I’d bet my entire share of Radiance that he’d be more than happy to put her on his own naughty list this year.

And dammit, he actually convinces her to pass her hot chocolate over to Ryder and go sit on his lap.

“Are you seeing this?” Beckett growls, pinning an intense stare on Santa as Lana perches on the asshole’s knee.

“Fucking Christmas,” Ryder grumbles, looking around the barn. “Come on, let’s go look at that leather work.”

Beckett actually perks up a little. “Where?”

Ryder points it out, and the two of them head in that direction. But I don’t go with them, sticking close to Lana instead. I’m not leaving her side—especially while she’s on another man’s lap.

“What are you hoping to find under the tree this year?” Santa asks her, resting his hand on her knee.

Lana laughs, then leans in to whisper her answer in his ear.

It’s perfectly innocent.

She’s having fun.

Iknowthat.

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