I'll Be Home...

by Tate James

Sending the Christmas hating Grinch to Vogue Magazine’s Prettiest Place for Christmas was one thing. But this was a hundred times worse for me, because there was only one orphanage in Northland… and it was the one I’d grown up in. Fuck that. No way in hell I’ll be going home for Christmas. Not this year, not any year.

“Frost… you got run over by… Rayne?” The doctor’s lips twitched with amusement. “You got run over by a Rayne Dear?”

Alfred Buddie, a fucking doctor. As if he needed to be more of a good person.

Alfie in dark blue scrubs with tatted up arms, a dark beard that looked soft and silky, and bedroom eyes definitely achieved the divine.

Not even the strongest of grudges could withstand the power of Saint Nick on a mission, and right now… he had a point to make. Fuck, I was done for.

A girl never forgot her first love, and in my case, I had three. That shit stuck on the mind and soul for eternity.

Team sports? Holy fuck. My payback definitely backfired, and I wasn’t even mad about it.

“You crazy asshole,” Nick yelled, but there was something darker in his voice. Lust. We might be crazy, but he fucking wanted me too. “She could have gotten frost bite.” “I did,” I told him, almost cheerfully. “Frost totally bit me.”

“Oh,” Nick murmured. “That was Frost flirting? Fucking weird but alright, who am I to judge?”

Nick scoffed. “We were never just friends, Rayne. You were—are—the sun of our solar system.”

“How do you want me, Saint Nick? Are you going to use me like a good little ho, ho, ho?”

“I like you, Frost Jackson,” I repeated. He rumbled a sexy sound. “Well, I love you, Rayne Dear. Always have and never stopped.”

“Nothing is off limits, beautiful girl. Nothing.” Well shit. That was dangerous.

I made them crazy. Fair enough. “Hey guys, did I mention that I love you?” It seemed about time they knew.

Who the fuck needed three wise men when you could have three well-hung ones instead? Merry Christmas to me, indeed.