Tangled in Tinsel (a holidates series)

The snow is gently falling.

The smell of cinnamon fills the air.

As our heroine, Samantha, decorates Christmas trees without care.

But soon, a storm will whip through the house.

And force our heroes to erase all their doubts.

Because upon this magical, blistering eve,

dirty, delicious ideas will they weave.

And the longer the snow holds steady outside,

these four men will take this girl on a cock-filled ride.

So, let’s peek inside to watch it unfold.

Rejoice!

There are dirty fucking deeds for us to behold.

Christmas music plays in my ears as I scan the twenty-foot Douglas fir. It’s moments like this that make being an interior designer worth it. I’ve been left alone, given an unlimited party budget to deck the halls, so to speak, in this cozy yet extravagant cabin.

I smile to myself as I take in the snow gently falling outside the floor-to-ceiling windows set aside the fireplace crackling below the hearth I just decorated with holly.

If the guests don’t ooh and ahh when they walk into this great room, I will personally pelt them with snowballs. The view alone is a scene from one of those Hallmark movies where the heroine works at a flower shop nobody ever seems to visit. But she still lives in a house outside the normal budget for anyone not coasting past six figures. God, I love those.

But even if my client doesn’t love this—he will—life could be worse. Trust me, last year, I was listening to how plaid is the new gingham by a woman who lets her poodles kiss her on the mouth for way too long. They were, like, really in there, sorting around her molars. I shiver, remembering how gross it was.

This year, however, has set a new bar. It was out with the Karens, and in with the four best clients a girl could ask for.

I tilt my head, trying to scope out the perfect spot for the star in my hand as ringing interrupts the music in my ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answer, tapping one of my AirPods, already knowing who it is. “I’m knee-deep in tinsel and red balls.”

My sister snorts from the other end.

“It’s better than blue ones.”

I push to my tiptoes on the ladder, placing the star in the perfect spot.

“You’re dumb. But what’s up? Make it quick. I’m pretty sure Mr. Price and his associates will be back soon.”

She whistles. “Wait, you’re working for that hot-ass CEO again—you left that out this morning when you tore out of here.”

“One, I was going to be late because the roads were already slushy. Two, I told you I was doing some fun festivities decorating for a who’s-who private party. That’s all the info you need.”

She’s not even listening to me because she keeps going.

“—And let’s not forget his band of equally fuckable friends. Are those the ‘associates’ because I’d like them to associate their tongue with my—”

“Oh my god,” I rush out, interrupting her. “I’m hanging up on you. You’re so disgusting. I’m working. What do you want?”

I can picture her evil grin.

“Come on. Fess up…you’ve never, ever thought about it?”

I look over my shoulder before I answer her.

“I’m perfectly capable of entertaining my fantasies with the help of my vibrator. There. Happy?”

“You’re so boring.”

“Hanging up,” I counter, sing-songy.

“Shut up. I’m calling because have you checked the news?”

I’m shaking my head as I climb down the ladder.

“No, I haven’t. What about I’m working is so confusing?”

The sound of her television gets louder until I hear every word.

If you wished for a white Christmas, it looks like Jack Frost has finally arrived. 

We’re expecting a record number of inches here in many parts of the East Bay. And in Stanislaus County and its surrounding areas, we’re anticipating feet, not inches, of snow. It’s all happening pretty quickly, folks. Make sure you bundle up because, as you can see, the temperatures are dropping by the minute. It’s time to bring in that firewood and make that last trip to the store because you’ll need those marshmallows for roasting over the next week. You can see Highway 80 here, and it’s already a mess—

Elle’s voice takes over again as the television gets quiet.

“Don’t you take Highway 80? Sam, please tell me you’re done and heading home in the next three minutes.”

I reach around to my back pocket, pulling out my phone. Shit, shit, shit.

“Sam,” she presses, but I don’t answer.

I’m staring down, looking at the maps on my screen. What took me an hour here already shows six on the way back.

“Dammit,” I whisper to myself.

My sister huffs, “I said this morning when you left that there would be a storm. But you never listen—”

“Eleanor,” I interrupt. “Stop talking. I need to finish this tree, and you need to call around and see if you can find me a hotel nearby. I’ll never make it back down this mountain in my Porsche. I’m already screwed.”

“Bitch, are you crazy? Forget the tree. Scram. You might not make it to the hotel.”

“Can you not be so dramatic? I’ll be fine. I just need to wrap this up. You go and find me a decent hotel. Please, and thank you.”

I start to hang up before hurriedly adding, “With room service.”

Elle scoffs in my ear just as the front door swings open. A cold gust of wind forces me to step back as snow flurries inside, along with very blue eyes.

“I have to go,” I whisper, not knowing if she’s still on the phone, as I take out my earpieces and pocket them.

Alec Price is standing just inside the entry by the oversized front door, shaking out snow from his salt-and-pepper hair as he greets me. He’s only forty, but the look suits him.

“Samantha.”

He always pauses for a moment after he says my name. As if he’s considering his words carefully. It kind of knocks me off-balance, figuratively. Okay, maybe I stumble sometimes, but playing it cool around him is hard.

Tucking my phone back into my dark skinny jeans, I place my “work smile” on my face as Alec strides toward me to join me in the living room.

“Wow, it’s really coming down out there, huh? Speaking of that fact—”

I’m suddenly stunned silent because I’d swear Alec’s eyes just drifted down my frame. He just checked me out. No, that can’t be right.

I clear my throat, trying to recover.

“Umm… I hear the storm’s pretty bad—”

Oh my god. He did it again. I look down at myself in my cream, off-the-shoulder sweater and dark skinny jeans, wondering what’s happening as he makes his way in front of me.

There has to be something wrong with my outfit. He can’t be checking me out. It’s not my usual work attire, but we’re in the mountains, and it’s cold. What does he expect me to wear? I open my mouth to finish, but he ignores me, speaking instead.

“The room’s perfect. Almost as gorgeous as you—”

He pauses in that way again before inhaling slowly and letting it drift out, adding, “I can’t wait to discover all the other talents you’re hiding from me.”

The gravel in his voice spreads over my skin, leaving hidden goosebumps, making me shiver. Close your mouth, Samantha. My lips fold under my teeth as I try to unscramble my brain. But I’m not even a little successful because all I can manage is a breathless, “Other talents?”

What the hell is happening? 

I’ve fallen off the ladder and hit my head. That’s it. This is one of my dreams.

Next, he’ll tell me to drop to my knees because he wants to feed me his big ol’ candy cane.

Alec motions toward the trees. “I didn’t know Christmas trees counted as décor. I thought I’d walk into red plaid and holly, but this is exceptional. You’re the total package.”

I melt into a chuckle. “Right. Trees. Mm-hmm.”

Of course, trees. What the hell did I think he was talking about? I blame my sister for her stupid comments. I’m blushing, but I keep my smile fixed as I turn to take it all in and hide.

“Well, Mr. Price, it’s easy to decorate such a beautiful home. These open layouts are my favorite designs for making a large space feel cozy. And these Douglas firs”—I turn back—“are girthy, really nice to handle.”

Jesus, is it hot in here? And did I just say girthy? Stop being a whore. JUST STOP BEING A WHORE. 

I adjust the neck of my sweater as he looks down at me with a grin.

“Call me Alec.” Our eyes connect. “And Samantha, you can handle my girthy tree anytime.”

“Got it,” I answer, shooting out finger guns.

Fuck me running. What am I doing? I officially hate myself. How am I allowed to be in my thirties and this awkward? 

In my defense, this man is hot. Six foot four and not an inch shorter. His shoulders are so broad that it’s a foregone conclusion that he played professional football. And that jawline. It makes Superman look soft. Sorry, Henry Cavill, Alec’s a better version.

And he exudes this presence. It’s not overwhelming or intimidating. More like his attention is a caress. Every look from those crystal blue eyes feels intentional, and that’s sexy because it’s as if you were meant to be in that exact spot at that very moment. Just for him to look at.

Alec’s basically sexy as fuck.

I press my lips together because the embarrassment I’m steeped in is camouflaged by surprise as the front door flies open again. Bringing with it more snow and more men.

Gorgeous, charming rogues, more like.

That’s the best way to describe Alec’s friends. In the year I’ve been their designer, I’ve witnessed enough moments to solidify that judgment. They’re beautiful bastards with terrible ideas and the perfect smiles to sell you on all of them.

They’re the kind of men you’d happily let destroy you because it’s better to get them for one night than for none at all. But that’s all you’d get—one night.

From what I’ve seen, nobody double dips. Ever.

“Holy fuck, Alec. It’s a straight-up blizzard out there.”

That’s Reed. 

He’s the blond one. But like the only blond guy you’d actually fuck.

Armed with golden-tanned skin, as if he’s just back from sailing, he has the kind of looks that belong in a J.Crew ad. His teeth are so white you’re surprised he even drinks coffee. And his fuck-me green eyes are paired with perfectly coiffed hair that exudes the kind of sex appeal that makes you wish he’d invite you to remove your panties. Because after a minute with him, you’d only need an invitation.

Reed’s more charming than his bank account, and that’s massive.

And if I remember correctly, and I do, Reed sleeps in the nude.

I found out one morning when I arrived early to start work on his bedroom.

He wasn’t supposed to be home. The man stood, smirked, and walked lazily to his bathroom as he gripped his impressive morning wood, saying, “Good morning, Sammy. I was just dreaming about today.”

I swallow, remembering how I just stood there, staring like I’d never seen a dick before. But, like, his dick is impressive, the unicorn of dicks. Girthy. Jesus, let me never think that word again.

Another voice fills the room, pulling me back into the present.

“That shitty townie liquor store only had the cheap stuff, but the good news is the party’s canceled, so it won’t matter.”

Hello, Cole. 

We’ve only met once. And that was enough to make quite an impression. First, there’s the way he fills out a suit—he feels severe. That’s the only way to describe it, like a character out of Peaky Blinders. Every crease is sharp and measured, created to make women breathless and men shrink.

Second, he knows it because it’s clear that Cole controls all. Period. The end.

I restored a Victorian he owns across from Alamo Square Park in San Francisco. He took me on a single tour, had me take extensive notes, then looked them over before making me correct my punctuation.

It was high-handed, dickish, and so very condescending. And weirdly, I swear those chocolate bedroom eyes burned with pleasure at each reprimand.

If I’m being honest, I may have played his secretary in my dreams. Crawling across the room to get spanked by his massive hands for forgetting the comma before and.

After I finished the job, he only showed his approval by sending me a gorgeous bouquet of all-white calla lilies. With a note that read: You exceeded my expectations. Looking forward to playing house again.  

Yeah, I may have that note hidden in my lingerie drawer.

Suddenly, what Cole just said smacks me in the face, pulling me from the memory I’m in. He’d said, Canceled.

I turn and look at Alec.

“The party’s canceled? It’s the weather, right? I need to pack up and head for dodge before—”

I’m interrupted by a set of dimples hard to forget.

“No need to explain, Sam. Let me help you.”

Jace.

Jace is the golden retriever energy of the group. And the youngest, as in a hair under forty.

I was hired to design the interior of a house on the Bay he’d bought his mom and dad. Jace had moved them from Boston. It was the sweetest experience. They were so grateful and honestly salt of the earth kind of people. I could see how Jace turned out the way he did.

Even if he seems less polished. With wavy black hair and tattoos covering his body, he’s a walking temptation. My favorite tattoo is on display above his collar, covering his throat—a set of angel wings.

However, I came to find out that it didn’t accurately depict his personality.

I remember he caught me staring and offered to show the rest…shirtless. I’d turned into a Popsicle on a hot sidewalk. It didn’t hurt that his nipples were both pierced too. I was blushing and embarrassed, but Jace stood on display until I gathered myself and took a good look.

It was the hottest experience I’ve ever had, never touching another person. He just let me walk around and lean in to admire the artistry before he said, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Despite his hellion demeanor, there is something soulful about his hazel-amber eyes. Jace feels like a hug. One you want to squeeze you tight, so you can dry hump his leg.

Jace walks past Alec, grabs a bin with leftover ornaments, and snaps the lid shut.

“Where do you want me, Sam?”

I swallow, head foggy, before matching his smile and rushing out, “Basement.”

Before I can say thank you, Alec picks up another bin. Then Cole brushes past me, saying nothing, followed by Reed.

My mouth won’t work as I shift around because I’m watching strong men do the heavy lifting. Well, perhaps not that heavy. Most of the bins are empty. But it’s still going in the bean bank.

They’re already coming back up when I finally get my head out of my ass and walk to the top of the stairs. So I breathe out, “Thank you. You guys are the best clients a girl could ask for.”

Alec stops in front of me, two steps down but at eye level. I bite my bottom lip in nervous habit as the warmth from his hands spreads over my hips. He’s touching me. Oh, he’s touching me.

As he finishes walking up, I’m gently pushed backward, forcing my eyes to lift to his.

“It’s the least we could do, considering we’re not letting you leave.”

I blink. I’m hallucinating again, or for the first time. I’ve definitely dreamt about this part, but there’s no way this is happening in real life. I give my head a shake before frowning as he lets me go.

“Say what now?”

He looks around at the others who have walked past him with smirks into the kitchen.

“It’s snowing.” Alec points toward the window.

My head swings to follow his finger. It takes me a moment to realize the white curtains are open because that’s all you can see outside the window—white. I didn’t notice as they were packing everything away for me. I was too busy sweating. My body all fired up like a cat in heat.

Fuck. 

Alec draws my face back to his with a finger under my chin.

“You’re not going anywhere, gorgeous. I refuse to be an accessory to your death.”

I’m shaking my head, but he grins as his finger drops.

I can’t stay here with these four guys…for god knows how long. I don’t have a toothbrush. Or pajamas. Oh my god, what if I have to poop? I’m not pooping here. I’d rather brave the snowstorm. I’d rather freeze to death like the homeless guy in Scrooged.

A rush of breath whooshes out as I hightail it to the window. “No, no, no. I’m sure it’s fine. I can still make it to a hotel. I mean…there are only four bedrooms, and I don’t want to be a burden—”

My hand presses against the window as my eyes widen, and my voice gives away my panic.

“Where’s my car? I can’t see my car.”

Reed’s voice comes from behind. “Getting covered in snow, sweetheart. It’s a whiteout.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzes.

I press it to my ear, knowing it’s my sister. “I can’t see my car.”

“What? Welp, it’s probably for the best because it’s a no for hotels. Sold out. Everywhere.”

“Elle, there are four bedrooms and five people.”

Oh god. Why is this happening to me? My sister chuckles because she’s a witch.

“Guess who’s sluttin’ it up with four hot guys tonight?”

My shoulders sag. This is going to be so fucking awkward.

“I hate you.”

“Love you. Get pregnant, and then we’ll be set for li—”

I hang up and look over my shoulder. The masculine tableau staring back at me from the marble island has my heart picking up its pace.

My eyes connect with each of the guys—Cole’s jaw tenses from where he’s seated, and Alec leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. Jace props himself up with a hand against the counter as he pops a grape into his mouth. But it’s Reed who holds my attention.

“I really can’t stay—”

He gives his signature smirk.

“But, baby, it’s cold outside.”