Page 94 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
“Probably pissed that he missed our amazing performance,” Noel says, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it by the door. “We were legendary tonight.”
I laugh, toeing off my boots and lining them up neatly. “You two were incredible. Saved my entire event, after almost destroying it first,” I tease.
Flames catch and start licking up the wood in the fireplace. “So really, we just evened out the damage.”
Noel pulls on his jacket again, zipping it up. “I’m heading out to feed the reindeer and get them into the barn for the night. Going to be a cold one. That snow is really coming down now.”
He disappears back outside, and Kane follows him out to help, leaving me alone in the entryway.
I head upstairs to change into black leggings that are so soft they’re basically pajamas, and an oversized pink T-shirt. I have on a black tank top underneath because the one thing I refuse to do is wear a bra in this house after hours.
The bra comes off the second I get home. Always has, always will. But living with three very attentive Alphas means I can’t just fling it off the moment I step through the door like I used to at my old place. Hence the tank top compromise.
I wash my face in the attached bathroom, brush my teeth, pull my hair into a messy ponytail, and head back downstairs in my thick wool socks.
The living room has transformed into something from a magazine spread. The fire Kane started is blazing now in the stone fireplace, flames dancing and crackling, casting warm light across the room. The Christmas tree lights are on, twinkling softly in whites and golds. The overhead lights are dimmed to that perfect level where you can see, but everything has this cozy, intimate glow.
Through the windows, snow is falling harder now. Big, fat flakes that are accumulating fast on the ground, on the trees, covering everything in pristine white.
I hope Chris gets home soon. The roads are going to be dangerous.
The guys still aren’t back from the barn, so I stroll into the kitchen and grab a glass from the cabinet, filling it with cold water from the dispenser and downing half immediately. My throat is raw from talking over loud music all night, from stress, from everything.
Then I remember the chocolate chip cookies I spotted in the pantry a few days ago when I was exploring. The good kind that’ssoft-baked with huge chunks of chocolate and tastes like heaven. I grab them and a can of Dr Pepper from the fridge.
Back in the living room, I sink into the plush couch and set my drink on the side table. The cookie package fights me, the plastic refusing to tear where it’s supposed to, and I end up using my teeth to rip it open. The crinkling sound is loud in the quiet room, competing with the crackle and pop of the fire.
I pull out a cookie and take a huge bite. Pure bliss. Soft and chewy with melted chocolate. I love having a fireplace. This whole house, actually. The high ceilings, the exposed beams, the windows that let in so much natural light during the day. It’s starting to feel like home in a way that scares me because I’m supposed to be here temporarily. Just until I sort things out.
Except I’m not sorting anything out. I’m settling in, getting comfortable, and letting myself imagine staying.
I finish the first cookie and immediately reach for a second one because tonight was stressful and I deserve carbs and sugar.
Then I look up.
Kane and Noel are standing near the fireplace, facing me.
They’re still in their clothes from tonight, jeans and long-sleeved shirts, barefoot now with their boots left by the door. But there’s something about the way they’re positioned, lit by the fire, that makes them look unreal.
Kane with his dark blond hair slightly messy from the cold outside, hazel-green eyes locked on me. God, his body, all broad shoulders and defined muscles visible even through his shirt. That crooked grin on his face that’s equal parts trouble and charm.
Noel next to him, shorter by an inch, his long brown hair pulled back in a low knot that emphasizes his strong jaw and those piercing eyes. The shirt he’s wearing clings to every line of muscle in his chest and arms.
How do I keep myself in check around them? How do I function like a normal human being when they look like that? And there’s music playing suddenly, something with a slow, sultry beat that definitely wasn’t on a second ago.
I burst out laughing, cookie crumbs falling onto my shirt. “Oh, so my private show? Excellent timing, boys.” I tuck my legs under me, getting comfortable, and take another bite of my cookie.
They’re staring at me with identical expressions, amused but also hungry in a way that has nothing to do with food.
“You forget the deal, baby girl?” Kane asks, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge even more against the fabric.
My body reacts immediately. Fire burning deep in my gut.
“How about we just focus on you both dancing for me?” I suggest around my mouthful of cookie. “I’m exhausted, and you both still have that post-performance energy going.”
They exchange a glance, some silent communication passing between them. Then suddenly they’re both on me.
The cookie is ripped from my grasp, Kane taking it, and they’re hauling me to my feet. Fingers dig into my sides, finding every ticklish spot, and I’m shrieking with laughter.
