Page 40 of Santa's Pucking Hat Trick

Michael’s name lit up my phone screen.Damn it.I answered, panic half convincing me he somehow knew what I’d just been doing.

“Hey, bro,” I answered, having to clear my throat to alleviate my hoarseness. I’d blown out my voice with my screams of pleasure, and my throat was still recovering from my attempts to take Sawyer’s cock too. “Um, what’s up?”

“Nothing, really,” Michael said, casualness perfectly at home in his tone as usual. The sounds of his car made themselves apparent in the background. “Just heading into the ice center for a meeting with the PT. Nothing wrong, just want to make sure I’m keeping all my muscles in tip-top shape with the right stretches. When are you heading into the office?”

I glanced down at my phone to see the time before I put it back up to my ear. “Um, soon. Might be a little late this morning. I, uh, overslept.”

“That’s not like you,” Michael pointed out. “You spending all your time having crazy parties without me or something? I feel like I’ve barely seen you in weeks.”

“Sorry,” I said sincerely. “No crazy parties. Just, uh…” I glanced down at the floor, where Wes and Sawyer’s hastily shed clothes had made their way into a pile. “Busy. Work and stuff, you know.”

“You work too much,” my brother told me.

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”

“Well, find some time for us to hang out soon, will you? Things are getting crazy with the season, but I miss my twin sis.”

Guilt seized my throat. “Yeah, I miss you too. We’ll hang out soon, alright?”

“Alright. Don’t be too late to work, Rach. I want to keep you around with the team as long as I can!”

“I’ll drive like the wind,” I told him with a soft smile.

“Just don’t hit any more Santas.”

Ironic that he’d bring that up now, when I’d just hittwoSantas—in a different way than with my car, of course. It felt way too natural to look over at Sawyer and Wes, the two men in my bed, and share a secret, knowing smile.

“No promises,” I said, and I hung up the phone.

21

ROMAN

Iwas late getting to the ice rink for practice. Again.

As I jogged down the corridor of the rink, skates slung over my shoulder, I could already picture the looks on the guys’ faces when I finally made it into the locker room. Wes would probably shake his head, Michael would give me shit for it, and Sawyer—well, Sawyer would just grunt, but I’d hear the judgment in that grunt. This was the third time this week I’d been late, not that I cared or was counting.

I rounded the corner, hoping I could sneak into practice without too much fanfare, when I saw Jerry and Ray, two of the guys who pulled the strings behind the Skatin’ Santas, standing at the entrance to the rink. They spotted me instantly, and my stomach dropped.

“Roman, hold up a second,” Jerry called out, his voice just stern enough to let me know this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation. Not like Jerry was capable of casual, anyway. He gave me the vibe of a teacher who lived in the bowels of the school, the nightmare of every delinquent teen like myself.

I cursed under my breath and slowed to a stop. “What?”

Ray folded his arms, looking me over with a raised eyebrow. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, trying to shrug it off. “Traffic was a mess. What can you do?”

“Traffic?” Ray scoffed. “In Mistletoe? What, did Santa’s reindeer get loose?”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. There was a whole antler brawl in the middle of town square.”

Jerry stepped forward, his expression less amused and more serious. “Your lateness is not the only issue, Roman, and you know it. We need to talk about your image. We’ve got a problem.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought we’d already talked about this.”

“Let’s take this to the office,” Jerry said, motioning for me to follow them. My heart sank as I followed them down the hall. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be good.

The office was small and cramped, full of paperwork and the smell of stale coffee. Jerry took a seat behind his desk, Ray leaning against the wall with his arms still crossed.

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