Wednesday morning, Micah entered the suite to find Brady at Shelley’s desk, a smirk on his unshaven face. “Hey, buddy,” he called, trying too hard to sound casual. “Have you been a good boy for Santa this year?”
If he needed any confirmation about who was sending him the presents, Micah thought that was it. “Define good.”
Brady wasn’t hard on the eyes—Micah had to admit he had a certain boyish charm. His brown hair was receding a bit, sure, and there was a thin spot near the back that hadn’t been there when Micah first met him two years earlier, but in a pinch, he’d do. Hell, on Christmas? Micah thought most anyone would do to chase away the cold winter night and holiday blues. Besides, he did have condoms and lube on hand, so it wasn’t going to cost him anything to rock Brady’s world ju
