Page 10 of Jingle Bell Rock


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Dylan’s lips twitched as his hand met the handle. “You need a shower?”

Even if I’d been scrubbed down by a hazmat team and scouring brushes, I would’ve been out of that bed and heading toward the en suite.

“I’ve never been dirtier in my life.”

Dylan pushed open the door and stepped aside. “I sure hope so. Five minutes, tops.”

“Make it six, and I don’t care if you wanna be top or bottom.”

Seven

Dylan

DING DONG!

“ACE? Ace? Can you get that?” I took a step back from the table to observe my handiwork and smiled at the festive setup.

A snowy-white tablecloth with a beautiful red and gold runner was draped across our large dining room table, and in the center was a decoration made up of candles, pine cones, and sprigs of holly that would’ve made Martha Stewart proud.

Christmas music softly filled the house through the insane sound system Ace had installed last year, and as I straightened one of the matching napkins, the doorbell rang again.

“Ace!” I made my way through the main foyer to see Ace jogging down the sweeping staircase.

“I’m here. I’m here,” he said as he reached the final step. “They’re early.”

I glanced at the clock on the far wall and then back to my husband. “No. You’re running late.”

“I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

I checked out his final decision and had to admit that the extra minutes he’d spent on his wardrobe was worth it. In perfectly shined Italian leather shoes, grey fitted slacks, and a black shirt tucked in at his trim waist, Ace’s broad shoulders and spectacular physique were outlined to perfection. He looked classically handsome, effortlessly sexy, and as I stepped aside for him to walk by, I took in a deep inhale—yep, he smelled like a fantasy too.

About to reach the door handle, I called his name.

“Yeah, Daydream?”

I took in a deep breath and then sighed. “How is it that after all this time you still manage to take my breath away?”

The smile that crossed his lips was one that everyone in the world would recognize. But that special sparkle in his blue eyes? That was all for me.

I sidled in close to him, twined my fingers in his, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Yep, that’s it right there. Did anyone ever tell you that you have a smile worth millions?”

Ace chuckled, and just as he was about to answer me, the doorbell rang…again.

“Better get that,” I said, squeezing his fingers. “You have an adoring new fan to meet.”

“Mhmm. I do.”

“And friends to host.”

“That too…”

When I just stood there, Ace leaned in and kissed my cheek, then he whispered in my ear, “You look gorgeous, by the way. Make sure your seat is next to mine at brunch.”

He pulled back and winked at me, and the full force that was Ace Locke hit me with a one-two punch. I sure hoped the young man coming to meet Ace today had sturdy legs, because holy hell, even now he made my knees weak.

“Deal. Now open the door, Hotshot, before I go out there and tell them to all go home.”

Ace grinned and then opened the door wide, and there standing with his finger hovering over the doorbell was Ace’s high school buddy—and smart-talking lawyer—Logan Mitchell.

“Well, it’s about time you opened the door. I know you’re a big shot and you likely need a map to get from point A to point B in this monstrosity, but really, can’t you hire someone to answer the door?”

“Logan,” Ace said. “I’m so glad to see that you and the plane made it in one piece.”

“Yeah, yeah. And just so it’s crystal clear, next time, you two are coming to us. I’m done flying all over the world to see you like you’re important or something.”

Ace grinned then turned his attention to Tate. “Has he been like this the whole trip?”

Tate flashed a smile and took hold of Logan’s hand. “Only ninety-five percent of it.”

Logan looked to his husband and slowly licked his lips. “Yes. The other five percent I’ve spent accepting Tate’s apology for putting me through this—over and over again.”

Okay, there was the Logan I remembered, unfiltered and one hundred percent inappropriate. A trait that Tate seemed unfazed by, judging by his grin. When a second car headed up the drive, I looked between the two in front of us and said, “It looks like our special guest is here.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, and then back to us. “Special is definitely one way to describe Robbie.”

“Logan,” Tate said under his breath.

“What? He is…special.”

Tate smacked him in the arm and looked to Ace. “What Logan means is that Robbie can be a little bit over the top sometimes.”

Ace laughed. “I’m not worried. I’ve been dealing with all kinds of fans for years.”

“And the truth of the matter is,” I whispered, “we’re extremely curious to meet the two men that the very serious Mr. Priestley ended up marrying.”

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