Operation Secret Santa （or The Art of Not Throwing a Reindeer at Cohen Becker）
Sloane
The wine is warming my veins—but not nearly enough to dull the exasperation.
I’m sprawled on the couch at The Snowed Inn, which tonight looks like it walked straight out of a cozy Christmas movie, and I’m doing my absolute best to ignore the impending disaster disguised as a friends’ night in.
Plaid throws everywhere.
Pillows with reindeer and sayings like Let It Snow, Baby.
Amber candles. Gingerbread cookies with smiley faces that feel like they’re absolutely judging me.
It’s our tradition: hot chocolate, wine, gossip, and the annual Secret Santa draw.
Normally, it’s one of my favorite nights of the year.
Tonight… I kind of want to slam my head into a wall.
I don’t—only because I don’t want to ruin my blowout.
Rae is laughing and chatting, cherry-red lipstick and a glitter reindeer headband that lights up every time she moves.
Ivy is wrapped in a blanket courtesy of Cam, and he’s very determined to turn her into a human sushi roll.
Lina is decorating the table—translation: putting whipped cream on every single mug in sight.
I should feel safe. Relaxed. Happy.
Then the door opens.
And in walks Cohen Becker.
Dark coat hanging open, man bun that has no business being that sexy, beard just long enough to be illegal. Gorgeous and… a walking disaster.
Next to him is Sebastian.
Sebastian has artfully messy dark hair, tattooed forearms peeking out from the sleeves of his rolled-up sweater. Seeing them together again gives me full-blown déjà vu of this afternoon—
me, sitting there, explaining the Secret Santa plan step by step;
Sebastian nodding, arms crossed, actually listening;
Cohen pretending not to, then repeating the entire thing word for word.
Then someone mentioned the college championship.
And that was it.
They haven’t shut up since.
End scene.
Bromance unlocked.
They’ve basically adopted each other.
And now here they are, walking in together like a two-for-one deal: buy one problem, get the second one free.
Lina goes so rigid I can practically hear her nervous system screaming from across the room.
Oh yeah. She doesn’t know this part of the plan yet.
I thought a surprise effect was better than hearing her yell because I involved Sebastian.
“I think you’ve confused this with your shift,” she snaps at him, her tone hot enough to burn firewood.
Sebastian opens his mouth—probably to fire back—but I step in before a war explodes.
“There’s no confusion,” I say quickly. “Sebastian and Cohen are joining us tonight.”
Everyone reacts differently the second they register Cohen.
Lina: eyes wide.
Rae: curious smile, the ooh, gossip incoming kind.
Ivy: polite and soft, all aww.
Cam: already halfway to clapping someone on the back.
Grant: the silent, charismatic statue in the corner.
Cohen lifts two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute—arrogant, infuriating, and… I cannot think the word athletic without something twisting in my chest.
He’s so irritating that I do the only sensible thing.
I drain my glass.
He notices.
Obviously.
That smug half-smile appears—the one that clearly says I’m already getting under your skin and I haven’t even started talking yet.
Lina looks at me, scandalized.
Then she looks at Cohen—and her jaw drops.
“Wait… that’s Cohen Becker?”
“Yes,” I huff. “And it stays a secret. He’s my pain-in-the-ass client.”
“Hey! Look who’s talking,” he says, shrugging out of his coat.
I ignore him.
Or at least, I try to.
Everyone tries to be polite, but the energy in the room is the same as when a bear walks into a pastry shop.
Cam reaches out to shake his hand. Ivy smiles.
Rae watches with the same fascinated confusion she’d reserve for a cake she doesn’t remember baking.
Grant nods, quietly sizing him up.
And then Cohen opens his mouth.
“Sorry for dropping in like this… Sloane asked me to—”
I smack him with his own coat before he can finish the sentence.
I shoot him a look that says I will end you, and we have a full telepathic conversation in half a second.
His expression shifts into that infuriating Relax, Angel, I’ve got this look.
No, you absolutely do not have anything “got,” you walking hazard in a coat.
He grins.
Winks.
And I feel a vein start throbbing at my temple.