15. Salt & Pepper with a Side of Sexy Lips
Chapter fifteen
Salt & Pepper with a Side of Sexy Lips
Eslin
Ineed to talk to someone.
Someone who won’t judge me. Someone who can handle the full, chaotic download of my hot mess life without blinking. Max is buried in back-to-back meetings, and unfortunately, it’s too early to head to the local bar and drown my feelings in tequila. So I head to the next best place.
“Happy Holidays! Welcome to HollyDates!”
I roll my eyes as I walk in. “It’s not even Halloween yet, Holly.”
She gasps like I’ve kicked a Christmas tree. “Excuse me, ma’am. It’s post–Labor Day, which means we’re technically on the on-ramp to the holiday season. So when I say ‘Happy damn Holidays,’ you say—what?”
“Geez, fine! Jolly police!”
“Good. Now let’s try it again.” She grins like she’s deadly serious. “Happy Holidays!”
“Happy Holidays, Holly,” I mutter, walking toward the coffee bar while rolling my eyes.
One thing I’ve come to learn about Holly since moving here is that she isn’t just festive—she’s full-blown, tinsel-drenched, peppermint-breathing obsessed with Christmas.
Sure, her coffee bar claims to celebrate every holiday—there’s a plastic shamrock on the register for St. Patrick’s Day and a tiny flag for the Fourth of July—but don’t be fooled. The framed photos on the wall tell the truth. This woman lives for December.
People who’ve been regulars at Holly’s for years rave about her December traditions.
Every Friday night, she hosts Home Alone movie marathons, complete with free popcorn, themed lattes, and even a blow-up Michael Jordan-on-a-train display in the window—exactly like the one from the film.
She throws Love, Actually dress-up parties too, where guests show up as their favorite characters and everyone cries together during the cue-card scene.
One person even told me about her This Christmas karaoke night, where Holly sets up a stage and insists everyone belt out Chris Brown’s version of “This Christmas,” along with the other holiday songs from the movie.
I won’t be joining in for that one. I can’t sing to save my life.
“Now that we’ve gotten our greetings and salutations out of the way, can we please get to the reason I’m here? I have updates,” I say, my eyes wide.
Her eyes light up. “This sounds juicy and right up my alley for this time of morning!”
“Make it a double, girl,” I say, dropping onto the barstool.
She hands me my drink in a glass mug, the steam curling between us, and leans over the counter with wide eyes and that trademark Holly intensity.
“Okay, girl. What’s up?”
“He’s here,” I blurt out.
She drops her voice like we’re about to discuss nuclear codes. “Who’s here?”
“Grant. Remember the man from Vegas I told you about?”
Her eyes go wide. “The hot older guy you spent the magical night with? Salt and pepper hair with a side of sexy lips, voice like melted sin?”
“Damn, girl, you’ve got a good memory.”
“You don’t forget details like that,” she says with a knowing nod. “But wait—you’re saying it was him you saw on the sidewalk that day?”
I nod furiously. “Yes!”
“And he lives in the same building as you?”
I take a long sip of my latte, then let out a dramatic whine. “Uh huh!”
She claps her hands together. “So naturally, he’s dicked you down all over his and your apartment and, what—you feel guilty for shitting where you sleep?”
Poetic, this one. “No,” I say, blinking. “He’s my boss’s father.”
Her jaw drops. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes.”
“So, did you find out before or after you had sex?”
“We did not have sex!” I whisper-yell. “Did you hear what I just said? He’s my boss’s father! I can’t cross that line!”
“Why not?” she shrugs. “I have. Not as hard as you might think.”
“Not with my job. Not with the people I work with on a daily basis. That would be an HR nightmare wrapped in emotional devastation. And besides—he told his daughter he wouldn’t date younger women. Remember? He’s even more off-limits now.”
Holly winces. “Wow, Eslin. That is… excruciating.” She reaches behind the counter and pulls out a piece of candy. “Want a candy cane?”
“No, I don’t want a candy cane! I need a new job!”
“But I thought you loved your job?”
“I do! But I am having a hard time facing his daughter every day knowing I’ve had some very dirty, very unprofessional thoughts about her daddy!”
“And I’m guessing we can’t tell her?” Holly asks, now sipping her own drink.
“Right. If anyone should tell her, it should be him. And something tells me if he wanted to do that, he would have already. So—”
“You’re star-crossed lovers,” she says with a dreamy sigh. “Destined to be together but the timing is all wrong.”
“Are you always so freaking jolly, Holly?”
She shrugs with pride. “I’ve been told my sunny disposition could end wars.”
“Girl, your fat ass and beautiful smile will do that all on their own,” I say, before howling with laughter.
“That has been known to do some damage as well,” she cackles, snapping her fingers in the air with one hand planted on her hip like she’s about to bless the room.
Then she gets serious, leaning in again. “So. What are you going to do?”
“Keep avoiding him like I have been,” I mutter, “and pray to God his daughter doesn’t pick up on a damn thing.”
She makes me another drink to go, sets it on the counter, and hands it to me like she’s passing down sacred wisdom. “I think you should consider being honest. Life’s too short to be without the one you love.”
“It’s not love,” I snap. “It’s forced proximity.”
She holds her drink out with a warm grin. “Happy Holidays.”
I roll my eyes and head for the door, still unsure how I’m actually going to avoid this walking complication in designer suits, but grateful I had someone to unload it all on.
“Happy Holidays, Holly.”