Page 28 of Daddies’ Holiday Toy (Kissmass Daddies #1)

HOLLY

If someone had asked me last week what my Monday morning would look like, I would’ve said something depressing, like “ crying over bills and instant coffee, probably wearing the same hoodie I’d slept in all weekend.”

But today, I’m pulling into the bank, practically humming under my breath while sliding my car into one of the empty parking spaces up front.

Mallory is next to me in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing at me while she’s still trying to figure out how I went from barely surviving trying to pay back my landlord to suspiciously chipper in less than a weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still upset about having to leave Liam, Reece, and Jack.

That goodbye earlier this morning has stuck under my skin. A quiet ache that has me missing all three of them.

But at least my bills are getting paid, and that suffocating weight in my chest has loosened somewhat.

My brain feels a little clearer without the constant low-level panic of what if I can’t cover rent, what if the bakery folds, what if this is the month it all unravels and I’m left with nothing?

None of that has to be at the top of my focus.

I can work through the holidays and do what I love without worrying about finding a “for sale” sign stuck to the front door.

Next month will definitely be my reset.

Orders will come in, the ovens will stay busy, and my bakery will be back to pulling in enough income that I can breathe without spending my evenings crunching numbers, trying to make everything work.

But then again, wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of this arrangement I’ve stuck with Liam, Reece, and Jack?

The thought sits with me as Mallory and I climb out of the car.

We did exchange numbers before parting ways, and it’s not like we didn’t agree that what happened at the cabin stays there.

That agreement felt solid in that moment, but now that I’m away and back in my own world, it feels more like uncertain waters.

Inside, the bank smells faintly like coffee and printer paper.

The carpet is that weird, muted blue every bank seems to have.

The lobby is empty except for an old guy at the pens-on-chains station, hunched over a deposit slip and squinting hard while writing.

I head straight for the counter of slips next to him and grab one, clicking the pen a few times before writing down the number I need. My hand almost hesitates before I finish it.

The total looks…actually obscene.

I can’t believe Liam has this much money lying around.

He barely batted an eye after he showed me the confirmation email he’d been sent after the transaction was successful and it nearly made me pass out at his feet.

Mallory leans over to snoop because of course she does. “Uh…are you paying for two months? Or three on accident?”

“Sort of,” I say, shoving the pen back into the cup right as my fingers begin to shake.

I really don’t want to have this conversation with her, let alone in a damn bank. “I had quite a bit of back pay that I owe.”

She tilts her head at me, narrowing her eyes. “And you have all that in your account?”

I slide the slip back into my hand, covering it so it will make the number less noticeable. “Yep.”

All technically true, so I’m not exactly lying to her.

I just don’t tell her the part about how it got there or whose hands, mouths, and cocks it had taken in exchange for it.

The teller calls me forward before I can come up with a graceful way to change the subject.

I slide the slip under the glass, keeping my face neutral.

The woman behind the counter greets me with a polite and faintly bored smile all people working in customer service have perfected after years of practice.

She glances at the number, arches her brows almost imperceptibly, then starts tapping something into her computer.

“Just a moment,” she says, before disappearing through the door into the back.

Behind me, Mallory crosses her arms, one eyebrow already creeping upward.

“Okay. But the last time we talked, you said you were hardly getting any orders. Like…the place was panic-level slow. Did someone big book with you?”

I keep my back to her, my mouth hitching into a tight almost-smile that’s nowhere near convincing. “Something like that.”

She makes a skeptical sound in her throat, but before she can press me again, the teller comes back holding a money order, the amount clear and easy to read.

Mallory’s jaw drops so far I think she might trap bugs in it.

The teller slides the money order to me with a small, “Here you are,” before retreating back into her safe little bubble of neutral customer service.

Mallory, however, is not neutral.

She leans in close, her voice dropping to an incredulous whisper.

“Holly. What the hell? That’s… that’s a stupid amount of money. Where the hell did you get that? Seriously, how did you get that?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Her eyes narrow, suspicion making her face morph into something almost comical. “Don’t tell me you started selling drugs .”

Oh my god.

I stuff the money order into my bag, my fingers fumbling over the zipper.

This poor teller probably thinks we’re nuts. “ No . Knock it off. Obviously not.”

Either that or she’s going to call the cops on his for suspicious activity.

I swing my bag over my shoulder and make a break for the door, but Mallory is right behind me, not about to let this go.

“Then where the hell you got the money, Holly.”

“Business loan,” I blurt, not even slowing down as I push the glass door open.

“Bullshit,” she fires back instantly, catching it before it closes and stepping out after me. “You are such a bad liar. Like, painfully bad. I can literally hear your voice go up when you do it.”

See, this is the problem with having a close friend. They always call you out at the least productive moments.

I keep walking toward my car, half-wishing the sidewalk would just crack open and swallow me.

Hands, mouths, dark gazes, and the sound of my name breaking over graveled voices flashes in my mind.

And yeah there’s no way I’m explaining that to Mallory. Especially in a bank parking lot.

The second we get in the car though, it’s game on for her.

“Spill. Now.” She snaps her seatbelt into place with a sharp click.

“Because unless you robbed a casino, there’s no way you just have that much money lying around.

Out with it, and don’t say it’s a business loan again, because I know you didn’t apply for one or else you would’ve had me help you with the application. ”

I groan, tipping my head back against the headrest, eyes flicking upward toward the pale winter sky like maybe divine intervention will swoop in and save me from this conversation.

“Okay. Fine. But you have to swear you won’t freak out.”

She lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you’re already setting conditions? That’s never good.”

I fire up my car, the low hum filling the silence between us as I pull out of the parking lot.

My hands grip the wheel tighter than necessary, and I focus way too hard on merging into traffic like I’m suddenly auditioning for a defensive driving commercial.

“Swear,” I press.

“Sure,” she agrees, leaning back and crossing her arms. “But I’m reserving the right to freak out internally. And maybe externally if this is something truly insane.”

Oh, it is, I almost say.

I sigh and head us in the direction of Mr. Larkin’s office.

The reality of actually saying it out loud has me wanting to veer off the road and crash my car, just to give me the excuse not to talk about it.

Mallory’s always been a stubborn person though. Even worse than me.

Once she gets her claws hooked into something, she never lets it go.

She shifts in her seat so she’s half-turned toward me, back pressed against the door, studying me.

“Just give me the details so I know how much trouble I need to bail you out of. I’ve got a number for a bondsman I used to date if we need it. Just saying.”

I huff out a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

“That’s not my job,” she says sweetly.

I take a deep breath and then tell her.

All of it.

I keep my eyes on the road as words spill out faster than I mean them to.

I’m treating it the way you rip off a band-aid before you can think too hard about it, leaving out the most graphic specifics—mostly for my own sanity.

There’s still more than enough detail for her to piece together exactly what happened at that cabin while we were all snowed in.

How one night bled into the next until the whole weekend felt like a fever dream.

By the time I finish, we’re almost to Mr. Larkin’s office.

My fingers are locked so tight around the steering wheel that they ache.

Mallory hasn’t said a word since I started. She’s just staring at me, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

Finally, in a voice that’s equal parts awe and horror, she hits me with, “You’re sleeping with three of your dad’s friends.”

“Yes.”

“At the same time.”

“Sort of. Two of them together. One likes it separately, but the others did watch at one point…”

“And…they’re paying you.”

“Paid. But yes.”

A beat passes. “I don’t even know where to start.”

I keep my eyes forward, heat prickling at my neck. “You know, we can just forget all about this and move on to a different subject. How was your weekend?”

Mallory’s head snaps toward me so fast I swear I hear her neck crack. “Oh, no. We’re talking about this. In fact, we’re talking about this a lot because what the hell?”

“It’s fine. Really.” Maybe if I keep playing it off, she’ll drop it.

“Holly.”

I glance over at her, trying for innocent but probably looking more like a deer in headlights. “What?”

She gestures broadly.

“This is…I mean…you’re sleeping with three of your dad’s friends. And they’re paying you for it. That’s kind of prostitution, right?”

I roll my eyes hard enough that I’m pretty sure I see my own brain. “It’s more like sugaring. The money’s going toward my bills, not like…I don’t know, purses and trips to Venice.”

“That’s not exactly the point, Hol.”

“It works for me,” I say firmly. “And they’re not gonna tell my dad. They promised.”

Her eyebrows shoot up so far they’re practically in her hairline. “People promise a lot of things before they change their minds.”

“They wouldn’t risk their friendship with him over this,” I counter.

Her frown deepens into something heavy, serious. “I’m just saying…if he does find out, it’s going to be a nuclear-level blowup.”

I don’t answer.

Mostly because she isn’t wrong.

I can picture it too easily. The fallout would be catastrophic.

For me.

For them.

Not that my dad deserves good people in his life.

The rest of the drive to Mr. Larkin’s is quieter than before. Mallory keeps sneaking side-eyes at me, waiting for me to crack and spill more details.

I keep my attention locked on the road though, forcing myself to remain relaxed and not imagine how this entire arrangement could implode if even one thing goes sideways.

We pull into the lot outside his office and head inside.

Larkin barely looks at me, just takes the money order then nods at the end, telling me he looks forward to continuing to do business.

I mumble a quick thanks and leave, Mallory trailing behind me.

Back in the car, the silence stretches until it feels like a third passenger. We drive back to my apartment where her car is, and when I pull up in front she pauses with her hand on the door handle.

“Just…be careful, okay?” she says. It’s not judgment this time, just concern. “I don’t want you getting hurt because these guys are interested in taking advantage of you.”

I nod. “I will.”

She gives me one last searching look before climbing out, closing the door with a quiet thunk .

I watch her walk over to her little silver hatchback, keys jingling in her hand.

She pauses just long enough to give me one last wave before ducking into her car.

The engine coughs to life, and a moment later she’s pulling away from the curb, her taillights disappearing down the street toward her apartment.

I stay there, hands resting loosely on the wheel, staring at the empty stretch of road ahead.

Careful.

The word echoes in my head, sour and heavy.

I didn’t like what it implied, that I was in danger.

As far as I was concerned, Jack, Reece, and Liam had been nothing but incredible to me.

They’d been generous, attentive, protective in ways I never expected.

Sure, the arrangement is unconventional—okay, fine, really unconventional—but it was mine.

I’m not about to give it up just because my best friend disapproves.

My phone buzzes against the cupholder, jolting me out of the spiral.

I glance down at it, and a new text lights up the screen.

Reece: Dinner tonight? Just us.

The corners of my mouth tug upward before I can stop them, a little spark of heat returning low in my stomach.

Just us.

That is unexpected but in the best way.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard, typing out a quick “ yes, love to” before setting it back down into the cupholder.

I let myself sit with the feeling for a bit, that little rush of anticipation curling through me.

Mallory didn’t know what she was talking about, I’m perfectly safe.

And I’ll be happy to prove her wrong.