I may know I need security, but I’ve only just started to get a tiny glimpse of having a life without being followed by a bodyguard, and it felt really nice to not be followed twenty-four seven. Knowing I need one is pissing me off.
“Yeah, princess. Let’s go home.”
I nod and lean into him. “Let’s go home.”
“Okay, that’s fucking hot.” Everly taps her martini glass to mine and sips as we watch Easton, Pace, Maddox, and Callen working to get our tree up. India was right, Easton and Pace had to cut the bottom off to get the thing to fit in our condo. But it was worth it because it’s perfect, and now I have an incredible view of my husband’s ass as he sets up the tree.
“You realize Callen’s over there too, right?” Grace asks as Everly drools over Pace and his arm porn. I mean I can get on board with it. He came from the office in a rolled-up white dress shirt before he started helping Easton. Brightly colored tattoos cover his forearms, which flex and move as he helps Easton adjust the tree.
Kenzie comes in with the shaker of candy-cane martinis and looks at the guys, then back over to us. “Have you seen him since we’ve been back from Vegas, Evie?”
“Nope. I came, he conquered. No repeat needed.”
I choke on my martini and somehow avoid snorting it out of my nose as Brynlee sighs.
“Seriously, this is better than porn if you can get past Maddox over there.” Bryn kicks her feet up on the coffee table. “I need to get laid.”
“I volunteer as tribute,” Callen announces, then winks at Brynlee, and we all laugh.
That’s how our night goes.
Lots of laughter.
Lots of drinks.
Maddox gets someone to deliver from Sam’s restaurant, Nonna’s, and we decorate my first big Christmas tree in my first place with my husband. Easton corners me in the kitchen while Callen and Evie argue whether the tree needs ribbon or popcorn strands. He lifts me onto the counter, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Did you notice nobody knocked before they came in, princess? Not even Callen or Maddox.” His nose runs up my neck, and my head drops back against the cabinet behind me.
“Better get used to it, hockey boy. They don’t knock. If you want privacy, you better lock the door.”
“Don’t bother,” Maddox tells us as he walks into the kitchen and grabs two beers out of the fridge. He opens them both, then hands one to Easton. “I’ve got keys to the whole building.”
“Wait.” I push Easton away and hop down. “I own the building, and I don’t have keys to everything. Why do you . . . how do you?”
“I have my ways, trouble. Hear you’re meeting with Dad tomorrow.”
“You know everything too, madman?”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out.” He turns and walks away, and Easton looks at me funny.
“Glad he’s on our side,” he tells me.
“You have no idea.” I lace my fingers with his and tug him behind me. “Come on, everybody. Stand in front of the tree with us. Who has the longest arms?”
“What kind of kinky shit are you guys into?” Callen asks.
I smack him and hiss when my hand hurts instead of his chest. “Asshole. I want a selfie with all of us. If the rags are going to gossip and guess, let’s at least give them a good pic for a change.”
Brynlee takes my phone from my hand. “It’s called a timer, Linds. Give me a second.”
She sets the phone up on a shelf and runs back over to us, and we all squeeze together.
“Everyone say Fuck the press.”
A round of Fuck the press! gets called out as we all laugh, and I post it on my own social-media account for the first time in weeks.
First Christmas with my hot hockey-god husband and my family. #FoundFamily
That ought to shut them all up.
OMFG, peeps. Check out baby Kingston’s most recent post linked below. Look at all the gorgeousness in one shot. I spy with my little eye . . . two pro athletes, a dancer, a cheerleader, and our favorite Olympian among this group of incredibly attractive social elites. This reporter would love to be the cream inside any of their cookies. Could it be that Hazey is finally debuting in society with this snap? #Hazey #KroydonKronicles
EASTON
Fitz always has the team meet for a nine a.m. skate the day of a game. We hit the ice light for half an hour, then have to be back at the Battleground Arena two hours before puck drop. Max Kingston gutted this place while I was in high school. It had been falling apart before he bought it. Always on the list of worst arenas to play in. But now . . . Now it rivals any new arena in the country.