Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

Epilogue Rachel

ONE CHRISTMAS LATER

I felt like I hadn’t experienced the true magic of the holidays since I was a child and learned Santa wasn’t real. But this year, there was twice the joy, twice the feeling of childlike wonder, as I watched my own son find that holiday spirit for the first time. Through my baby boy’s eyes, I felt it all again—better even, with his fathers and the rest of our family by my side.

“Careful, Theo,” I said to my almost toddler as he tore through the wrapping paper on one of his presents. It was clear to me what was inside the package, and it was a bit unwieldy for his little hands. “We wouldn’t want to break one of Gigi’s knickknacks just yet. You’ll have plenty of time to get in all kinds of trouble when you’re older.”

“And when it’s not Christmas,” Roman agreed, coming up behind the sofa where Theo and I sat and handing me a fresh mug of cocoa. The mini marshmallows on top were arranged in a shape that was suspiciously phallic, and I shot him a scolding look even as I couldn’t hold back a giggle.

“My grandson would never get in trouble in my house,” my mom, who preferred her grandma nickname these days, piped up.

“What, did you waste all of your discipline skills on the two of us?” Michael asked with an incredulous laugh. He looked at me, his bright grin matching my own. “No fair.”

“I’m sure she’ll be just as much of a pushover with your kids whenever they come along,” I reassured him with a wink. I noticed that Violet ducked her gaze away, and Michael squeezed her closer to him with the arm he had hooked around her waist. They’d already told me their big news, but I was anxious for them to let the rest of the family in on the secret today. I started to try and get Michael’s attention, hoping we could tap into our childhood twin telepathy so I could nag him to quit stalling and tell them about the baby, but then Theo was giggling and waving his new child-sized hockey stick in the air and I got distracted as Wes swooped in to keep him from knocking over the array of festive mugs on the coffee table.

“Whoa,” Mrs. Robbins laughed, scooping up her mug of cocoa to keep it out of the crossfire. “Careful, buddy! Granny’s cocoa has a little something extra in it, and I don’t think Gigi will appreciate the whiskey smell all over her nice carpet.”

My mom exchanged a faux-scandalized look with my mother-in-law, and the two friends laughed. Wes and his mother had fit right in with our family just like they had all those years ago, and I was grateful to call all of these people mine.

“Hey, let him play! My nephew is gonna need to practice if he’s gonna be the next big Santas’ star,” Michael boasted. “We’ve gotta get started on his hat tricks ASAP.”

Wes and Sawyer were both helping our son with his new present, guiding his chubby little fists to grip the stick in the correct way. Sawyer let out a snort.

“Give the kid some time to figure out what he likes before you indoctrinate him, Mike. Maybe he’ll wanna be an astronaut.”

“We all got him the hockey stuff, dude,” Roman rebutted. “You were stoked as hell when you found a stick in his size. Don’t act like you’re not hoping he’ll follow in his dads’ footsteps too.”

“Or maybe he’ll be a car guy. Take after his mama,” Wes guessed, shooting me a sweet, closed-lip smile.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve already got his automotive education started. Grab that next present, will you babe?” I asked Roman, since he was closest to the pile under the tree. He leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek as he handed over the box, and I turned my head to make it land on my lips—just a quick peck, but still, in true brotherly fashion, Michael made a face about it.

I turned mine and Theo’s attention toward the next present. The box was wrapped in green paper emblazoned with candy canes, a shiny gold bow on the top. The corners were perfect, since I was the best gift wrapper of all of us, and I never hesitated to brag about it. I snuggled Theo closer to my chest and pointed to the paper label tucked in beside the bow, making sure he followed my finger with his blue eyes even as he was fascinated by the whole shiny package—my guys all said his eyes were just like mine, and to be honest, the little guy’s whole face was incredibly Henning-coded even from the moment he was born. On that day all those months ago, feeling hormonal and exhausted and ecstatic with my perfect son, I’d even cried tears of joy that I’d put my body through nine months of struggle to create my own mini-me. The guys laughed their asses off at me, but honestly, it was all worth it.

“Look, baby. See this? It says here this present is from Mommy.” Theo slapped his little hands across the box’s surface, and I started to help him unwrap the gift I’d picked out. My parents made the appropriate awed, excited sounds as we revealed the overpriced (but still baby-safe) toy car I’d gotten him.

“It’s Rhiannon’s clone,” Wes breathed, scanning the perfect blue replica of my own beloved set of wheels. I’d kept this gift a secret even from the guys, and it was so satisfying to see their surprise play out in front of me.

“Exactly,” I beamed. “Watch out, everyone. My little man is road ready.”

“Just as long as he doesn’t run over any Santas like his mother,” Sawyer piped up. Laughter filled the room, and I reached over to give him a gentle shove, making sure to cover Theo’s eyes as I did.

“Nah, he doesn’t seem to have the same road rage.” Roman laughed. “Besides, you all saw how great he was on Santa’s lap.”

“He could have stayed there forever,” I added, remembering our weekend trip to the Mistletoe Mall. I’d be looking lovingly at the photos of Theo in his little elf costume for the rest of his life, and I was looking forward to the day I could show them to his future partner.

“How the hell did you find such a good replica of your T-bird, Rach?” Michael asked, still staring at the toy car in awe as he helped his nephew “drive” it around the living room floor.

“No swearing in front of the baby,” Dad—or, as we usually called him now that Theo was around, Pappy—butted in. All of us laughed off his attempt at discipline, and he pretended to be disgruntled about it, even with a smile making itself known through the twitches of his mustache.

Well, if Michael and Violet weren’t going to share their news with the family just yet, it looked like now was as good a time as any to share my own life update. I took a deep breath, hugging my baby against me as a comfort, his little cooing noises giving me all the confidence I needed. “Funny story, actually. My new boss found it for me. Since he’s so big in the car industry, he knows a guy who makes classic replicas into toys like this.”

I saw the realization dawn on each of the members of our big, sometimes chaotic, beautifully blended family. My mom was the first one to fully put it together, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Oh, Rachel! You got the job!”

My family had all been so supportive in my job hunt over the past few months, pitching in whenever they could by sending me listings for remote gigs, things near enough to Mistletoe that I could commute without missing too much time with my baby, and anything that my qualifications suited. Of course, I’d stayed with the Santas as long as I could, but during my maternity leave, I’d put in my two-weeks notice, accepting the fact that working in sports marketing really wasn’t my thing. It had been a miracle they’d allowed me to stay as long as I had, since I was in love with three of the team’s players. It was a testament to how hard-pressed they were to find someone willing to do that job in such a small town.

Since then, I’d been helping out my dad with his Christmas tree farm, furthering his goals to expand the whole festive operation with my marketing prowess. But it wasn’t a long-term career solution—it wasn’t what I wanted to do, and not because I was still a Grinch at heart like my twin liked to tease. In fact, I was happier than ever, my heart having expanded three sizes in the past year thanks to the three men I now called home.

It was the support from those men that kept me searching for a perfect fit, career-wise. So when I found that a prestigious car company, the makers of one of my favorite modern sports car models, was looking for a marketing director for their East Coast branch, I jumped at the opportunity to apply. And through a series of rigorous interviews, pay negotiations, and conversations about how I could still be based in the small town I’d grown to love while doing this job, they’d finally offered me the position. I’d be mostly remote, though I’d have business trips from time to time that could take me all over the world—there were branches of this manufacturer on nearly every continent, and the prospect of getting to explore outside of the tinsel-lined borders of Mistletoe through my work was thrilling.

The whole Henning-Finnegan-Robbins-Jett clan was thrilled for me as I laid out all of the details for them. The excited gushing turned into hugs and even some tears from my mom and Bria, who couldn’t help but get mushy about how proud they were of me. “We just love you to bits, hon,” Bria explained through a wavering, tear-tinged voice. “And we’re so, so glad you’re here to stay.”

There was a time when the thought of being here to stay would have sent me into a full doom spiral. When I’d felt trapped by the little tourist-trap town that had raised me, and I wanted nothing more than to get away forever. But now that I’d built such a beautiful life here with the three men I hadn’t meant to fall for, everything about Mistletoe had a new charm. It really was a perfect Christmas village with plenty of charms to enjoy—and the best place to raise my son and any other children we might have someday, surrounded by love and family, steeped in the magic of the season all year round.

“I never thought I’d say it,” I started, making eye contact with each of my loves in turn—Roman’s stunning green, Sawyer’s warm hazel, and finally the pure, primary blue that belonged to Wes. “But I’m happy too. All of this, all of you—you’re my home. The best family a girl could have.”

And I knew to my core that they all felt the same. This was the real Christmas magic—love and family, no matter the form.

Want more steamy Christmas romances?

Three Bosses. One assistant. Trapped in a blizzard.

What could possibly go wrong... or oh so right?