Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emery

I ’d never been so happy to see a Friday end in my life. My fingers were cramped, my back ached, and I had enough paper cuts to make me look like I’d gotten into a fight with Edward Scissorhands. But we’d done it. Every present was wrapped, tagged, and ready to ship out tomorrow morning by the shipping department. Blake had even given me what might have been an approving nod as he left for the night, though it could have just been a muscle spasm.

“I can’t believe we actually finished.” I collapsed into the passenger seat of Ronan’s car.

“Did you doubt us?” Ronan raised an eyebrow, pulling out of the parking lot. Max and Levi followed in Levi’s car, their headlights catching in the rearview mirror.

“I doubted my ability to fold one more corner without my fingers falling off.” I held up my band-aid covered hands, the variety of cartoon characters on them a testament to how many times I’d needed first aid this week. “It looks like I tried to juggle razor blades.”

He chuckled, reaching over to take one of my hands. His thumb traced gentle circles over my palm, sending tingles up my arm. “Battle scars of the gift-wrapping warriors. Why didn’t you wear the gloves we provided?”

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment... and they made my wrapping worse.” I wore them as much as possible, but not being able to actually feel the paper threw off my wrapping game. Plus, they made me feel like I was handling evidence at a crime scene rather than spreading holiday cheer.

When we got home, all three guys exchanged looks that made me instantly suspicious. Living with three insanely attractive men was already doing questionable things to my sanity, but when they got all conspiratorial, it was downright unsettling.

“Whatever broke, I didn’t do it.” I hung my coat on the hook in the mudroom and pulled off my boots.

Levi grinned. “We have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” My interest was piqued, and I held out my hands like a toddler, making grabby motions.

“Go to your room.” Max chuckled. “That came out wrong. We need you to wait there for a bit. And change into something comfortable.”

“Are you guys planning to murder me? Because I have to tell you, I’ve seen enough true crime shows to know this is how it starts. ‘She trusted them,’” I mimicked a documentary narrator voice, “‘That was her first mistake.’”

Ronan rolled his eyes, but I caught the smile he tried to hide. “Yes, we’re going to murder you in Christmas pajamas. Speaking of which...” He gave me a gentle push toward my room.

“Wait, Christmas pajamas?” But instead of answering, they were already shooing me to the door like a group of very attractive border collies herding a confused sheep.

In my bedroom, I found a set of red and white striped pajamas laid out on my bed. They looked soft and cozy, with little dancing reindeer printed all over them. A note sat on top that read ‘Put these on or else!’ in what I recognized as Levi’s distinctive scrawl, complete with a badly drawn winking face.

I went to the door, cracking it open. “Or else what?” I called out.

“Just put them on!” Levi yelled back, followed by what sounded like someone dropping a pan and Ronan’s muffled cursing.

I changed into the pajamas, which was possibly the most comfortable thing I’d ever worn. It was like being hugged by a cloud that had been raised on hot chocolate and Christmas carols. The fabric was impossibly soft against my skin, making me wonder if they’d robbed a luxury department store. Knowing them, they probably had connections in the high-end pajama black market.

Flopping onto the couch, I tried to figure out what they could be planning. A movie night? Some kind of Christmas intervention where they finally told me to stop putting decorations on everything that stood still long enough? An elaborate scheme to get me to stop singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” in the shower at the top of my lungs? If they thought that last one was happening, they clearly didn’t know me very well yet.

I heard metal crashing and what sounded suspiciously like cursing coming from down the hall. More thumping followed, along with Levi’s distinctive laugh and Ronan’s “For fuck’s sake.”

I hugged one of the throw pillows, trying to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. Whatever they were planning, them doing it together made something inside me melt like a snowman in springtime.

It was almost too perfect, like those Christmas movies where everything seems magical until reality comes crashing in after the credits roll. The thought of Blake’s disapproving stare at work flashed through my mind, along with the whispers I’d started noticing in the break room. Sophie had started giving me knowing looks, and even Janet had pulled me aside yesterday to ask if everything was “appropriate.” Living with and dating the three owners was bound to raise eyebrows eventually, no matter how professional we tried to be.

I settled back into the cushions, pushing away the nagging doubts.

Three successful men who ran a profitable company were probably destroying something to surprise me. It was ridiculous and sweet and perfectly them.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to mysterious thumps and crashes—punctuated by what sounded suspiciously like Levi singing “Jingle Bell Rock” and Max telling him to shut up—a knock finally came at my door.

Max poked his head in, looking adorably flustered with what appeared to be flour dusting his shirt, and his usual perfectly styled hair was sticking up in ways that made my fingers itch to smooth it.

“Ready for your surprise?” He held out his hand.

“I’ve been ready!” I bounced up from the couch, practically vibrating with curiosity. “Also, why do you look like you got into a fight with the Pillsbury Doughboy and lost?”

“Close your eyes.” He completely ignored my question but failed to hide his grin.

I did as instructed, letting him guide me down the hallway. Christmas music was playing softly from somewhere ahead.

“If this is some elaborate prank...” I warned, squeezing his hand. “I know where you all sleep. Literally.”

“Would we do that to you?” Max asked, then quickly added, “Don’t answer that. And no peeking—Levi, I saw her trying to peek!”

“I was not!” I protested, though I totally had been.

We stopped walking, and I could sense the others nearby.

“Can I open them now?” I bounced on my toes, probably crushing Max’s hand in excitement.

“Yes,” three voices said in unison.

I opened my eyes and gasped. The kitchen island had been transformed into what looked like Santa’s bakery after a Pinterest explosion. Bowls of candy, sprinkles, containers of frosting, and tubes of icing in every color imaginable covered the surface. To one side sat perfect little bundles of gingerbread pieces, ready to be assembled into houses, as well as a box of perfectly baked sugar cookies. Christmas lights had been strung along the cabinets, casting everything in a warm, magical glow.

“You guys...” I took it all in, my chest tight with emotion. “This is amazing!”

“We thought after the wrapping marathon, we could use some fun.” Levi was already wearing an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cook’ with mistletoe printed on it. He had powdered sugar on his cheek.

“Plus…” Ronan leaned against the counter in a way that should be illegal. “You about lost it when I said I’d never made a gingerbread house before.”

I spun around to face them, my heart so full it felt like it might burst. These three men, who probably had better things to do on a Friday night, had turned their kitchen into a Christmas wonderland to make me happy. “When did you even have time to prepare all this?”

“Let’s just say Sophie is very good at keeping secrets.” Max ran a hand through his hair. “She helped us get everything. Shall we get started?”

“I call dibs on the red frosting!” I dove toward the supplies. My hip brushed against Ronan as I passed, and I heard his sharp intake of breath.

What followed was possibly the most chaotic—and fun—decorating session I’d ever experienced. Levi had a whole playlist of Christmas music prepared, which led to impromptu butter knife microphone performances. During “Santa Baby,” he made decorating a cookie look scandalous, his fingers moving deliberately in the white frosting as he caught my eye. Max turned out to be surprisingly artistic with his cookie decorating, while Ronan approached gingerbread construction with the same precision he used on his office window.

“That is not structurally sound.” Ronan looked over my shoulder as he critiqued my attempt at a roof. His chest pressed against my back as he leaned in to inspect my work.

“It’s whimsical.” I added another glob of frosting to hold it together. It was hard to concentrate on the architecture when I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“It’s going to collapse.” His voice was low and entirely too close to my neck.

“You’re such a-” The roof chose that exact moment to slide off, and I turned and stuck my tongue out at his knowing smirk. “Fine, gingerbread engineering expert, show me how it’s done.”

I turned back to my creation, and he stepped behind me, fully pressing against my back now, his arms coming around to guide my hands. “You need to create a proper support system first.” His fingers intertwined with mine, showing me how to angle the pieces. The position was reminiscent of other, less wholesome activities we’d engaged in recently.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Levi waggled his eyebrows, earning a flick of powdered sugar from Max. That, of course, led to an all-out ingredient war that only ended when we realized we were wasting perfectly good cookie decorating supplies.

I guess I now knew how they’d ended up with powdered sugar on themselves before I’d even come out of my room.

Max had somehow gotten frosting in his hair, making it stick up even more attractively than before. Levi’s “Kiss the Cook” apron was now more like “Kiss the Walking Holiday Disaster,” and even Ronan’s usually impeccable appearance was delightfully disheveled. A streak of red frosting marked his neck in a way that made me want to help clean it off—preferably with my tongue.

“Look at us.” I laughed, taking in our appearance. “We look like we got caught in a candy snowstorm.”

“Worth it.” Max brushed something off my nose, his thumb lingering longer than necessary before tracing a path down my cheek.

“Definitely worth it.” Levi grabbed a candy cane from my pile of decorations and made a show of unwrapping it slowly.

Ronan surveyed the mess with what tried to be disapproval but came out as fondness. “This is going to take forever to clean up.”

I cleared my throat and grabbed a gumdrop, placing it on my house. “We need to test these cookies. You know, for quality control.” I deliberately licked a spot of frosting off my thumb, watching as all three men followed the movement.

“Of course.” Max nodded seriously, his voice slightly hoarse. “It’s good business practice.”

The kitchen was warm and the air thick with sugar and spice and something else entirely. Christmas lights twinkled off the shiny countertops, casting everything in a soft, dream-like glow. Mariah Carey had given way to something slower and jazzier; the kind of song that made you want to slow dance in someone’s arms.

As we gathered around the island, sampling our creations and arguing over whose gingerbread house was superior (clearly mine, despite its architectural challenges), I couldn’t help but think that this—right here, covered in sugar and surrounded by laughter—was exactly where I was meant to be.

For a moment, the perfection of it all made tears well in my eyes. I’d lost everything once before with Josh. The higher this happiness soared, the farther it had to fall. Monday we’d go back to work, where Blake’s suspicious glances and office gossip waited. We’d have to pretend this delicate thing between us wasn’t growing stronger every day and wasn’t becoming as essential as breathing.

But then Levi stuck two candy canes in his mouth like walrus tusks, Max flicked a marshmallow at him, and Ronan muttered something about “working with children” while pulling me closer against his side, and I decided that maybe some risks were worth taking.