Instead of his usual smudgy black liner, Tanner used his Christmas present to wing out his eyes and added red freckles and a shimmery sort of iridescent highlight across his nose and cheekbones. He looks like Mrs. Claus, if Mrs. Claus were into BDSM.
He’s a little chilly because he refused to wear a coat, and I just know I’ll be lending him mine on the way home. We make our way up the steps, and Sam opens the door with a flourish.
He puts his hand to his chest as he takes us in, then his eyes shift to something behind us and widen.
“Look! Flurries!”
Tanner and I turn, and…sure enough. Actual snow flurries. It’s not uncommon to see snow in the Hill Country, but we rarely see it stick to the ground. The weather today, however, might be cold enough.
Tanner runs down the steps and sticks his tongue out, catching snowflakes like a deranged Christmas elf.
Sam shoulders me. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
I suck in a cold breath as Tanner spins, completely unselfconscious.
“He really is.”
Tanner eventually gets chilly enough to go inside, and we enter arm-in-arm. I whistle under my breath. I spend a lot of time in the main house, but it’s been completely transformed for the day. The dining area is enormous, but they’ve also pushed back all the furniture in the living room and set up three huge tables in the middle.
Trip comes over to greet us, snaking an arm around Sam’s waist. Trip and I are wearing practically the same outfit, but unlike my dark elf, Sam is pure light. He’s got his hair done up in a swoop, and now that I know about such things, a beautiful makeup job. He’s wearing snow-white heels and pants with a teal sweater. He and Trip lock gazes, seeming to forget the rest of us are there.
I know the feeling.
In the meantime, Warwick comes up, flanked by Colt and Joaquin, each rosy-cheeked and happy. We exchange hugs, and he leans in with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.
“Well, well, well. Looks like we’ve all been freshly fucked this fine Christmas Day.”
“’Tis the season,” I crack back, popping my brows.
“And things are going well?”
I dip my chin. “Very well. We’ve figured out the honorifics, which are”—I pause, remembering this morning—“very effective.”
Warwick chuckles, patting my shoulder. “Glad you got that worked out. Next time he calls you Sir, Daddy, or Big Papa, think of me.”
I shake my head. Fucking Wick.
A few minutes later, Tanner’s mom walks in with his brother and sister. “Hi, Iliya. How are you?” I ask, coming in for a soft hug. “I heard you did a write-up on the Christmas bazaar in the local paper.”
Her eyes light up. “I did! It got picked up in Austin and San Antonio, and I hope that brings more people.”
“I’m sure it will. It’s cool that the bigger papers saw it.”
She nods. “I have a journalism degree. Feels good to use it.”
“Think you might pursue that?”
Her cheeks flush, just like Tanner’s. “I might. Between that and the Broken Oak, I should be able to keep my house.”
“I know you’ll do great,” I say, wrapping her up in another hug. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”
“Keep making my son happy,” she says, patting my cheek. “I’ve never seen him so alive. You brought my son back to me, and I thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, Iliya.”
“Merry Christmas, Junior.”
We shuffle in and take a table together. None of us, not even the twins, are shocked when Richard joins us with a certain massive deputy at his side.
