Page 93 of Tinsel in Telluride

Okay, it's tequila.

In my defense, Holt pours them strong and, since they got back to the house, Bash has made sure none of us are without a drink in our hands. It’s a terrible combination, but I don’t hate it.

The twinkling lights of the tree catch my eye, and I trace the glittering tinsel-filled branches down to the piles of presents below that we just finished wrapping. They’re all a mess—too much tape, uneven corners, and a few that don’t have enough paper. So the guys added an extra misshapen piece to make it work.

Guy logic.

But still, they’re perfect. And watching them play Santa, giggling with glee over how they think Zach will react, was worth it.

Zach isabsolutelygoing to lose his mind tomorrow morning.

There’s just one final touch needed.

I lug the bag of flour, spray bottle, and cookie sheet I found in the pantry over to the fireplace and carefully set it down on the hearth before bending over to untie my shoes.

“As much as I love this view, do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

I look over my shoulder at where Luca stands, leaning against the doorframe of the living room.

It’s not even fair how sexy this man is. Sure, he looks good in a suit, but those cashmere sweaters over a button down and the way he makes them look casual just turns my insides to mush.

My eyes fall to his feet, and I grin. “Come over here. I need your shoes.”

“My shoes?”

“Yeah.” I turn back and pour the flour out on the cookie sheet. “Actually, do you think Bash’s feet are bigger than yours? Where are the guys, anyway?”

They disappeared while I was gathering the things I needed for this endeavor.

“They’re in the hot tub.” Luca slides up behind me, resting his hips against mine before leaning over and nipping my shoulder. “And if you’re about to make a comment about foot size and dick size, you should really think twice.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Donati,” I tease. “But now that you mention it, is there a correlation?”

“Absolutely. Which is why I can say with confidence, my feet are much larger than Bash’s.”

“Just give me your shoes.” I roll my eyes.

He chuckles as he slips off his boots that probably cost more than my rent, and hands them to me.

“So what exactly are you doing?” He crosses his arms over his chest, watching me spray down the bottom of his shoe with water and push it into the mound of flour I formed on the baking sheet.

“I’m making Santa’s footprints.”

“What?”

I glance up and find he’s wearing an expression that says he seriously has no idea what I’m talking about.

“Santa’s footprints.” Still no recognition, so I explain. “I’m going to use your boots to make it look like Santa walked across here, leaving snow from his boots as he put the presents under the tree and filled our stockings.”

Luca’s brows raise and my jaw drops, realizing just how far the deprivation goes when it comes to Donati parent involvement. “Your parents never did something like this?”

“That would be a no.”

My smile falls a bit. “Mine did every year. Even after I knew the truth about Santa, they still made a show of it just to keep a little bit of magic.”

Luca’s eyes soften. “And now you get to share that with Zach.”

“I—”

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