Isank into my dining chair, dragging the plate of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets closer like it might be stolen if I didn’t maintain constant contact. The French fries were crinkle-cut, extra crispy, and positively drowning in ketchup. They formed a comforting moat around my protein—the pinnacle of adult dining.
This was what my life had come to. Hiding in my house, eating like a toddler, and avoiding the two reindeer men who’d finally left me alone after I’d practically shoved them out the door. My lips still tingled from where Dash’s thumb had brushed them.
I dunked a T-Rex head into ketchup with unnecessary force.
The doorbell rang, a jarring Christmas tune that made me drop my nugget. How had they changed the ring?
“Nope. Not tonight, Satan.” I shoved another fry into my mouth. If I ignored it, whoever it was would eventually go away.
The doorbell rang again, and I groaned, pushing back from the table. If it were Dane and Dash returning with more Christmas torture, I was going to set my house on fire.
I yanked open the door, prepared to unleash my frosty wrath, and froze.
Pierce and Vix stood on my doorstep. Pierce, all rigidposture and perfect hair, had his finger poised over the doorbell for another assault. Vix leaned casually against the wall, a sharp contrast to Pierce’s military stance.
Both wore matching green T-shirts withNice-ishemblazoned across their chests in candy-cane stripes.
My brain hit the emergency brake and skidded sideways.
“May we come in?” Pierce lowered his hand, his eyes immediately taking inventory of my house behind me.
“Are you really asking, or is that just a formality before you barge in anyway?” I stepped into their path, as if I might actually be able to stop them.
Vix’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “You’ve got ketchup on your face.”
I swiped at my cheek, feeling heat creep up my neck. “What do you want?” I stepped to the side, letting them in. They clearly weren’t going to leave anyway.
Once they were inside, I double-checked that there weren’t any more wayward reindeer waiting to barge in before shutting the door. Vix was already making a beeline for my kitchen.
“Your dinner looks sad,” Vix commented as he took in my abandoned meal. “Are those... dinosaur nuggets?”
“They’re a culinary delight.” I looked between the two of them, getting a better look at their T-shirts. “Nice shirts. Did you coordinate, or was it a happy accident?”
Pierce glanced down at his chest, then at Vix’s, as if just noticing they matched. “Christmas-themed clothing encourages participation in seasonal activities.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“A sweater would be impractical in this climate.” Pierce’s eyes remained utterly serious. “You’ve chosen to live in a location with suboptimal winter weather.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. None came.
“Sadly chosen?” I waved a hand toward my kitchen window. “It’s in the seventies during the day. It hardly ever rains, and there is absolutely no snow. That’s not sad, that’s paradise.”
Vix snorted, dropping onto my couch without invitation. “It’s not paradise if it smells like sunscreen instead of pine.”
“What are you doing here?” I returned to my plate, grabbing a fry and biting it like it were one of their heads.
Pierce set a glossy red gift bag on my counter. “You need fresh air.”
“I have windows.”
“Put that on.” He nodded toward the bag. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”
I set down my fry, spine straightening. “I’m not going anywhere. I just escaped Tweedledee and Tweedledum’s Christmas cookie bonanza.”
Vix leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You can’t stay in here forever, avoiding what’s happening.”
“Watch me.”
