“Mao!” Brinley calls out victoriously, ending another round of the game.
Luke groans. “That’s four in a row you’ve won. Isn’t it time to give someone else a turn?”
“Let’s play a different game,” Cat suggests. “What about Never Have I Ever?”
“NO!” five male voices shout in unison. The guys look so horrified, it’s like Cat had just suggested that we all try and swallow a live boa constrictor.
Like any good writer, my ears perk up when I sense a story. “What happened there? Have you played before?”
James crosses his arms and Nate stares at a spot on the floor.
“Let’s do the White Elephant swap now,” Luke says quickly.
I frown. “But you haven’t?—”
“White Elephant time!” Ryan proclaims. “Everyone, put your gifts on the table.”
The guys all go to fetch their presents with an alarming speed. Nobody’s talking—not yet. But I tuck the exchange in the back of my mind. When the time’s right, I’ll find out the story. There’s no way I’d let a mystery like this go that easy, especially if there’s a possibility of Ryan blackmail.
Watching them all scatter like ants to retrieve their gifts is like sitting front row at a very specific,very chaoticfamily reunion. They’re not just poker night friends or billionaire business buddies—they’re each other’s emergency contacts, bad-influence brothers, and emotional-support disasters all rolled into one.
Once all the presents are piled on the table, we pull our numbers to decide the order. James draws first, and picks the biggest box on the table. When he opens it, he sighs with wry amusement.
“What is it?” Beau asks.
James displays the box to the rest of the room. Brinley and Cat break into giggles, clutching each other’s arms. Inside, there’s about every kinky toy you could think of. Handcuffs, vibrators, a dildo, a flogger, a leather harness, and even more stuff underneath that.
“You have to steal that from him, Cat,” Beau proclaims. “You can use the riding crop on Nate when he’s being annoying.”
“Or as a reward if he’s been good,” Cat says, kissing Nate’s cheek. Ryan and I both make gagging noises.
“I’m next,” Brinley says. She grabs a messily wrapped present that turns out to be a little zen garden kit in the shape of a kitty litter box, complete with a pooper scooper rake and a mini black cat. I gasp.
“Sorry, Brinley, I’ll be stealing that on my turn,” I announce.
“No way!” Ryan says. “What if Waffle gets confused and starts peeing in that?”
I roll my eyes. “She’s smarter than that. She knows what her litter box is, and she knows it’s not raked into cute little lines.”
“Who bought this one?” Brinley asks.
“We’re not allowed to reveal until the gifts are exchanged,” Beau says solemnly.
“But you’ll probably figure most of them out,” James says drily. “Who’s next?”
“I’ve got number three!” Ryan says. “I’m going for a new gift, too.”
My lips curl into a diabolical smile as he reaches for my gift. I put an extra shiny ribbon on it to attract his attention, since Ryan is so easily distracted.
He tears off the wrapping paper and his jaw drops. Everyone leans in to look at my holiday masterstroke—a pair of custom-printed socks, covered with the same picture of Ryan’s face.
It’s a photo I snapped four years ago, when he passed out on the couch at a family Christmas party after downing too much whiskey. He’s wearing a Santa hat, and his mouth is wide open, complete with visible drool dripping down his chin. Ryan prides himself on being photogenic, which means hehatesthis photo. I swear, he wrote to Mark Zuckerberg himself to get it taken off Instagram.
I lean back in my seat and wait for Ryan to blow a gasket.
Instead, he throws back his head and howls with laughter. “These are fucking great!” he cries.
“You look like crap, Ryan,” Luke says. “I want them.”
