Page 54 of Santa's Pucking Hat Trick

I’d never been nervous about dinner at the Henning house before, but I’d also never walked into Paula and Steve Henning’s beautiful home onThanksgivingof all days with the knowledge weighing on me that I was sleeping with their daughter.

First time for everything.

It wasn’t a factor, though. No one here knew but Rachel and me, and that was how it was going to stay for now, if not forever. Ma and I had been invited for dinner as neighbors, pseudo-family, since our own family was just us two most of the time. All of the extended Robbins pack lived a lot farther out. That made for a lot of leftover turkey. We’d had Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Hennings a couple of times during my childhood, but it had been a while since we’d last been included on this. Not since before Rachel left for college.

“Thanks again for having us, Mrs. Henning,” I thanked Paula, who wore a delightfully tacky sweater with a turkey wearing a Santa hat. A perfect transition piece that marked the shift from the holiday our town saw only as pre-Christmas to the season we all cared about. The Henning place was all decked outin red and green, of course, and their massive Christmas tree was lit up in the living room.

“Oh, Wes, you know you and Phoebe are always welcome!”

I might not be if they knew about all of the hot, raunchy group sex. But God willing, no one in this room would ever know that but Rachel and me.

That thought rubbed me the wrong way, though. A pang of unexpected pain came with it. I wanted more than secrets with Rachel Henning. I wanted to be here as hers, proudly walking in on her arm. Hell, I even wanted to walk in with Sawyer and Roman openly proclaiming themselves as hers too—something about our dynamic with Rachel was so easy, so right, that even our friendship felt stronger because of it. I’d take this strange, unconventional arrangement with Rachel and the guys over a normal relationship any day.

“You need help in the kitchen, Paula?” Ma piped up, breaking me out of my thoughts. “What still needs to be done before dinner?”

“Oh, not much, really,” Paula waved a hand. “Honey?” She turned to her husband.

“You can help me out with the stuffing,” Steve stepped in helpfully. “Paula hates the stuff, so she leaves it to me, along with the turkey. It’s a family affair.”

“Exactly as it should be,” my mom said, rolling up her sleeves. She shot me a wink as she left me in the living room with Michael, Rachel, and the half-dozen Henning cousins who’d come to town for the holiday.

The house buzzed with energy, and I did my best to settle in, though I was shy in crowds this size. Rachel usually was too, but not when she was in a group with all of her people. I watched her across the room as I sipped a glass of wine one of her aunts had offered me. She was chatting with some of her cousins, her laugh light and contagious. I had to keep reminding myself to minglewith the other guests and not just stare at her. I was supposed to just be Wes, the neighbor, Michael’s friend and teammate and nothing more. But every time Rachel glanced my way with a small smile, like we shared some secret, it sent a warm rush through me.

I wandered over to Rachel and Michael’s Great-Uncle Irvin, who was sitting in his usual spot by the fireplace, a plate of appetizers balanced on his lap. He was the oldest of the Hennings, well into his seventies, but he still had a sharp mind, especially when it came to hockey.

“Wes Robbins, my boy!” Irvin greeted me with a grin, patting the seat next to him. “How’s the season going? You keeping those boys in line on the ice?”

I chuckled, sitting down beside him. “That’s Mike’s job as captain. But we’re doing well so far. Just trying to keep the momentum going, you know?”

Irvin nodded sagely. “That’s what it’s all about. Gotta play smart, not just hard. And you’ve been real smart so far, from what I hear.” He raised an eyebrow. “Rachel’s been bragging about you, even. She says you’re one of the best out there.”

I shot Rachel a look as she came closer to us, having heard her name. She blushed but smiled proudly as she sipped her own glass of wine—white, which I filed away as her preferred drink. “I just told him the truth,” she said, shrugging like it was no big deal. But it was. Hearing her talk me up like that after I’d had so many years being torn down by the woman who was supposed to be on my side…it meant more than I could put into words.

Michael, lounging on the couch with his feet in his girlfriend’s lap, gave an exaggerated groan. “You never talk aboutmelike that, Rachel. I’m your twin, for crying out loud.AndI’m the captain!”

She shot him a playful glare. “Please, Michael. You get enough attention as it is.”

I grinned and shared a quiet look with Rachel. Maybe emboldened a bit by the wine, she shot me a wink no one else saw. It was a small thing, but the connection between us felt electric. The kind of thing that made me realize just how much I cared about her, how much her opinion meant to me.

She wasn’t just some pretty face I’d had a crush on back in high school. That had been superficial, based on looks and the magnetic draw of her confidence. But now? Now I reallyknewher. I knew how fiercely she loved her family, how she lit up when she was around them, even if she held back in bigger crowds. I knew how she stayed up late working on her projects, always determined to get things just right. I knew how sweetly she came, how easily she surrendered to me, Roman, and Sawyer in bed.

Every part of her was perfect.

Watching her now, laughing with her cousins one minute and holding her great-aunt’s hand the next as she consoled her about the loss of her wife, I could see just how special she really was. When she took her cousin’s infant into her arms and cooed at the little girl, a huge smile lighting up her face, I felt my heart practically flip. I couldn’t stop picturing Rachel as a mom someday, holding a baby of her own—maybe one with my blue eyes and her dark hair. That image stuck in my mind like glue, and it made me feel all mushy inside in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Bria came into the room, then, making a goofyding ding dingsound with her mouth, becoming a human dinner bell. It was time for all of us to gather around the long dining table in the well-appointed formal dining room, which Paula Henning had laid with a massive set of fine china. The whole extended Henning clan squeezed in, Rachel taking her seat beside me, the smell of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes filling the air. As everyone loaded up their plates, the room hummed withlaughter and light-hearted conversation. It was a tradition to go around the table and say what we were thankful for before we started eating, so naturally, Paula kicked things off.

“I’m thankful for my wonderful family, and the almost forty tickets we’ve already sold to my upcoming Christmas gala!” she said brightly. Her husband laughed beside her, patting her hand.

“I’m thankful for all the rain we’ve had this year, since my tree farm is looking better than ever. Oh, and my wife,” Steve joked.

One by one, everyone shared their gratitude. When it came to my turn, I hesitated, my mind racing between the obvious answer—the old standby of family, which everyone else had already said, or maybe something about hockey—and the deeper truth that was Rachel.

“I’m thankful for a great season so far,” I said, going the safer route. “The Santas are doing well, and we’re hoping to keep it up.”

“Of course you are, honey,” Ma said from across the table, smiling warmly. “I’m just thankful for my boy, Wes, and for the Hennings for always making us feel like part of the family.”

I smiled back at Ma, my chest tightening with affection. It felt right, being here with her. I felt Rachel nudge my leg with hers under the table. That felt right too.

---