Page 98 of Daddies on Ice

Players drift off to their rooms with their girlfriends or alone, calling out “Merry Christmas” as they go.

Soon it’s just the four of us, me, Carl—who’s shed the Santa beard and hat but still wears the rest of the ensemble—Jake, and Ash.

We settle onto the enormous bear skin rug in front of the fireplace, the only light in the huge room coming from the dancing flames.

I’ve drawn all the curtains closed to ensure our privacy from any lingering cameras or prying eyes.

The fire crackles and pops, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Christmas music still plays softly in the background, and outside the snow continues to fall in fat, lazy flakes.

It’s like something out of a Christmas movie. Cozy, and intimate, and perfect.

I’m curled up on the rug with my legs tucked under me, my fourth or maybe fifth cup of eggnog in my hands.

The alcohol has made everything soft around the edges, and I feel giddy and free in a way I haven’t in years.

“This is nice,” I say, looking around at the three men who have somehow become so important to me. “Just the four of us, no cameras, no drama. Just…nice.”

Carl chuckles, his blue eyes warm as they meet mine. “You’re a little drunk, Trisha.”

“Maybe a little,” I admit with a giggle. “But I don’t care. It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m with…” I’m not sure how to finish that sentence. With what? My friends? The men I’m falling for? The complicated situation that’s going to explode in my face eventually?

“Santa Baby,” starts playing through the speakers, and I gasp with delight. “Oh, I love this song!”

Before I can think better of it, I’m on my feet, swaying to the music. The room spins slightly, but I don’t care.

I feel free and happy and reckless.

I sing along, moving closer to Carl with exaggerated sultry movements that make all three men laugh.

Carl’s eyes darken as I dance around him, and I can see him fighting a smile behind his trimmed beard. “Trisha…”

I sing the next verse, running my fingers along the red suspenders he’s still wearing and emphasizing the call for avisit.

Jake and Ash are both watching with intense expressions, their laughter fading as the atmosphere in the room shifts from playful to something much more charged.

I can feel their eyes on me as I move, and it sends heat coursing through my veins that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

I glance at the antique clock on the mantle and gasp. “Oh! It’s 12:01! Merry Christmas!”

The words tumble out of me in a rush of excitement and alcohol-fueled boldness.

Before I can second-guess myself, I lean down and press my lips to Carl’s in a soft, sweet kiss.

He tastes like eggnog and something uniquely him, and when I pull back, his eyes are dark with desire.

“Merry Christmas, Carl,” I whisper.

I turn to Jake next, my heart pounding as I lean in to kiss him too.

His lips are warm and familiar, and he responds immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck before I pull away.

“Merry Christmas, Jake.”

Finally, I turn to Ash.

His brown eyes are intense, almost burning as I lean down to him.