Filthy Rich Santas

18. Lana

18

LANA

I wake up to the sound of wind whistling outside, and my heart skips a beat. Padding over to the window, I push the curtain aside and let out a soft gasp. The world outside is a swirling mess of white, fat snowflakes dancing on gusts of wind that bend the trees nearly in half.

It’s breathtaking, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

By all rights, I should be tired. The clock on the nightstand tells me it’s just past eight in the morning, and the ache between my legs is a visceral reminder of how late I was up last night.

But somehow, instead of wearing me out, being able to live out some of my deepest fantasies has only invigorated me.

I press my palm against the cold glass, my breath fogging it slightly, then let the curtain fall back into place, ignoring the echo of my mother’s voice in my head. The one trying to remind me of my “obligations,” and the importance of arriving in time for the Christmas Eve party.

I can almost hear her exasperated sigh, can picture the tight lines around her mouth as she inevitably scolds me for the delay. Because I’m sure the men will agree once they wake up; there’s no way we should be driving in this weather.

But right now, wrapped in the cocoon of this hotel room, those concerns feel as distant and hazy as the buildings I can barely make out through the falling snow.

There’s no way I can regret being stuck here a little longer. Sure, it means more time on the road. But that just means more time in this little alternate universe, where seemingly impossible things become possible. Where I can be bolder, braver, more authentically myself than I’ve ever dared to be before.

Where I get them .

For now.

I bite my lip to hold in my smile as I finish my morning routine, then wrap myself in soft, silky lounge clothes and head into the kitchen.

The dismay I felt in the middle of the night when it really hit me that this fantasy I’m living can’t last is gone for now. Yes, it’s temporary. And yes, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I wish there was a way to keep what I’ve found here with Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett forever.

But there isn’t a way.

I can’t keep them.

And I’m not going to let that stop me from wasting what I do have, from enjoying the fact that I have them right now. And for as long as that snow keeps falling.

My stomach gives a quiet rumble, and my phone pings, making me grin at the perfect timing. I ordered groceries after waking up, and it sounds like they’re here.

When I get to the door, the delivery guy looks like he’s battled the elements of a small apocalypse just to bring me my groceries.

“Thank you so much,” I tell him sincerely as I accept the bags. “You’re a lifesaver.”

A lifesaver that I tip very, very well for braving the weather like that for me once I put the bags down in the kitchen.

As I start to unpack the groceries, I hear the rustle of sheets from the bedroom, and low murmurs that tell me the guys are starting to stir. Tristan wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later, his hair adorably mussed and his glasses slightly askew.

Gentle heat curls in my core as I smile at him, the intimacy of seeing his bedhead just as sexy as the kinks he’s helping me explore.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” His voice is still rough with sleep, and a thrill goes through me when he walks over and adds a casual one-armed hug to his greeting, kissing my temple. “What are you up to in here?”

I grin up at him. “Well, since we’re stuck here, I figured we need breakfast. So, I’m going to make it.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking both amused and a little concerned. “You cook?”

I laugh, swatting at him with a dish towel. “What has Caleb been telling you? I’m not completely hopeless in the kitchen, thank you very much. And I’ll have you know, I make the best pancakes in the world.”

I lift my chin defiantly, but instead of the lecture on the dangers of eating too many carbs I would have gotten from my mother, he just gives me another lazy smile.

“Mmm. I love pancakes.”

I bite my lip to keep from blurting that I love how accepted the three of them make me feel. How validating it is to actually be myself and not hear any criticism about it.

That’s too much, though, so instead I point toward the living room. “Out of my kitchen, mister. Go shower or something. I’ve got this.”

Ryder’s head pops around the corner, a devilish grin on his face. “Did I hear something about Lana’s kitchen? Are you staking a claim here?”

I’d love to, but not the way he means.

“Don’t even start,” I warn him playfully, determined to keep things light. “This is a sacred space right now. You’ll just interfere with my mojo.”

“Your mojo?” Beckett rumbles, appearing behind Ryder and raising a single eyebrow. “Sounds serious.”

I roll my eyes, fighting back a smile and secretly thrilled that Mr. Grumpy Pants is actually joining in the banter. “You’re all impossible. Now shoo. Let me work my magic in peace.”

They grumble good-naturedly but eventually clear out, leaving me alone with my ingredients and my thoughts. As I start mixing the batter, using the recipe I’ve perfected over the years, I hum to myself as I work.

The sex with these three has been mind-blowing, but it’s the little moments like this that truly mean happiness to me. Snowed in like this, I’ve got no obligations right now other than relishing this quiet moment alone and looking forward to sharing the meal I’m making with the guys.

It may just be temporary, but it’s perfect.

By the time I hear the shower shut off for the last time, I’m sliding the final pancake onto a towering stack.

“Breakfast is served!” I call out.

It doesn’t take them long to wander in, each one of them looking freshly showered and irresistibly relaxed.

I try not to stare too obviously as I set the platter of pancakes in the center of the table. Just like me, none of the guys bothered to really dress for the day, and the soft sweatpants and snug t-shirts they’ve got on give them a casual kind of sexiness that has my heart racing a little.

“Holy shit,” Tristan breathes, eyeing the stack with something close to reverence. “Those look amazing.”

I beam at him, warmth blooming in my chest. “They taste even better,” I tell him shamelessly. “Prepare to have your minds blown.”

“You know, confidence is fucking sexy on you,” Ryder says with a grin, making me blush.

I could really get used to this.

I serve them up, and as they all take their first bites, I hold my breath, watching their reactions.

They’re not what I hoped for.

Instead of a chorus of appreciative groans or more of the praise that I’m admittedly getting greedy for, the kitchen gets quiet. All three men have unreadable expressions on their faces, and Beckett… well, he looks almost angry.

My stomach tightens, and I dart a worried glance down to my own plate. Maybe I should have tasted them before inviting the men to dig in, just to be sure I didn’t mess up the recipe by swapping salt for sugar or something.

But before I can spiral about it, Ryder stands up abruptly. He strides over to me with purpose, and before I can even squeak out a question, he’s cupping my face in his hands and kissing me so hard that it bends me backward.

When he finally pulls away, leaving me breathless and dizzy, he grins down at me. “These pancakes are fucking amazing, Lana.”

I blink, looking between the three of them as I try to process what just happened.

“You’ve found Ryder’s weak spot,” Tristan chuckles, adjusting his glasses. “The man is a sucker for a good breakfast.”

Even Beckett’s stern expression has softened. He pins me with an intense look that makes my toes curl as he murmurs, “They really are amazing.”

I beam at them all, relief and happiness bubbling up inside me. “I’m so glad you like them.”

As we finish eating, we all agree that we’re not going to try to keep driving until the weather clears up, but it’s not until Tristan is gathering up our empty plates that Ryder stretches and asks, “So, what’s the plan for today? We’re pretty much snowed in, but the local roads might be okay if we want to do some exploring. Should we try to go out and about?”

Beckett’s expression is predictably serious. “We’ve got some club business to take care of, but that can be handled right here from the hotel room.”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed. “That’s okay. I can keep myself busy.”

“Don’t get too busy,” Ryder tells me with a grin. “The stuff for the club shouldn’t take all day.”

Tristan tilts his head, studying me. “And you could always hang out with us while we handle it, if you’d like. Maybe pull out your sketchbook?”

My heart skips a beat at the suggestion. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be in the way.”

Ryder cups my chin. “Trust me, love. Having you around will make boring business a lot more bearable.”

I flush, deciding to take them up on the suggestion. A lazy morning curled up in an armchair in the suite’s living area, my sketchbook balanced on my knees while the guys spread out paperwork and their laptops on the coffee table, sounds kind of perfect, actually.

They talk in low voices as they work, occasionally asking each other questions or debating some point I don’t quite understand. But honestly, I’m not really listening. I’m too busy studying the lines of Beckett’s profile, the way Ryder’s hands move as he gesticulates, the furrow that appears between Tristan’s brows when he’s concentrating.

My pencil moves almost of its own accord, capturing moments and expressions as I lose myself in the act of creation, only vaguely aware of the passage of time. It’s not until I feel a presence looming over me that I snap back to reality.

“I think we’re done here,” Tristan murmurs, resting his hand on my shoulder as I instinctively cover my sketchbook. “The weather looks like it’s clearing too.”

My stomach sinks slightly at the news, and when I glance out the window, I see that he’s right. The snow has slowed to a gentle flutter.

Beckett is already shaking his head, though. “If we left now, we’d barely make any progress before having to stop again. We might as well wait till morning. We can get an early start tomorrow if the roads are clear.”

Ryder grins, sprawling on the couch next to me and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Oh no, whatever shall we do?”

I laugh, leaning into him. “Well, we can’t just sit in this hotel room all day, as nice as it is here. There’s got to be something to do around here, right?”

We all look at each other for a moment before Tristan suggests, “Why don’t we ask at the front desk? They might know of some local attractions.”

It’s a great idea, and after quickly changing into more appropriate clothes, the four of us end up trooping down to the lobby to ask.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asks, looking up at us with a smile.

“We’re looking for something fun to do in the area,” I tell him. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He rattles off quite a few, but it’s the three magic words he says at the end that have me perking up with excitement.

“A Christmas tree farm?” I repeat, smiling so hard my cheeks ache. “Really? Is it far? Is it open? Do they do tours? Tell me everything!”

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’s on ,” 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 that none of 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!”

He sets me down but keeps his arms around me. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Now, did someone say something about hot chocolate?”

“They’re serving it in the main building,” Beckett notes, jerking his chin back in the direction of the parking lot.

The four of us head in that direction, and even before we reach the large barn that serves as the main building, I can smell cinnamon and chocolate wafting out, promising warmth and treats inside.

As we approach, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and my good mood falters when I see the name on the screen.

Wade.

There was a time, not so long ago, when seeing his name would have made my heart race with hope. I spent an embarrassing amount of time after the breakup longing for him to call and tell me he’d changed his mind, that he’d realized walking away from me was a mistake.

It wasn’t, though. At least, not for me. It freed me.

And now, seeing his name on the screen just leaves me… not even cold. just indifferent.

“Everything okay, freckles?” Tristan murmurs, resting a hand on my lower back, the light pressure both comforting and reassuring.

Without hesitation, I decline the call and slip the phone back into my pocket. Whatever Wade wants, it can wait. Or better yet, it can stay in the past where it belongs.

“Everything is wonderful,” I say sincerely, hooking a mittened hand through Tristan’s arm with a smile.

I look up to see Beckett watching me, a question in his eyes. I give him a reassuring smile too, then think what the heck, and link my other arm through his.

“Come on,” I say, tugging the men into the barn. “I smell hot chocolate calling our names.”

Ryder is in front of us and turns to face me at that, grinning as he walks backward. “You smell it calling our name? That’s a pretty impressive nose you’ve got there.”

“If you think that’s impressive, you should see what I can do with other parts,” I tease him, my heart glowing as brightly as the massive tree in the center of the Christmas wonderland that we find inside the barn.

He laughs, heat in his gaze, and like a true Christmas miracle, he doesn’t even grumble about the stalls selling everything from ornaments to gingerbread or the jolly Santa in the corner, surrounded by excited children.

Well, at least not much.

“This is amazing,” I gush.

Ryder turns around, his eyes going wide. “Did Christmas throw up in here?”

There’s no real bite to his words, though, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in years.

“Come on, guys. Let’s get some hot chocolate and see what kind of trouble we can get into.”