Page 56 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

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.

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