November 22nd
Jay
Jay
Marv
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Jay
Perfect.
Hollis?
You ignoring me because of what I said about George Bailey?
Marv
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Jay
Maybe. Or she’s just playing hard to get.
Hollis
Sorry. I’ll be there but I don’t know what time. I had other plans come up. For after. That I’ll be busy with. With other people.
Jay
Other plans? Holiday Club rules state there can be no other plans.
Hollis
Guess I’m a rule breaker.
Jay
Loves traditions yet breaks rules. Aren’t you full of surprises.
Hollis
I told you I like surprises.
Jay
And I told you I like surprising.
Marv
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“Is this China meat?” Marv shouts from the kitchen.
“Local,” I holler from my spot behind the bar. “From that farm near Asheville.”
He grunts. The grill sizzles. The smell of cooked onions ensues and mixes with the scent of oranges and hops already in the air.
I pull out a sleeve of plastic cups, lining them along the bar for tonight’s flights and flick my gaze to the door.
No Hollis. Yet. She’ll show.
Despite how worked up she got at the movie, and the fact she mentioned other plans in last night’s text—which, I can be honest, irritated me—she’ll be here.
I wasn’t lying when I said I want to ask her out. I do. I’ve wanted to since she wedged her way into our bowling game. But she’s a woman with a broken heart and a hang up on traditions. I have to wait, have to be sure she’s ready, for her as much as me.
I hadn’t planned on touching her, but she started talking about dating, and as much as I knew she was bluffing, I had to be sure. Had to confirm the spark I feel just by sitting next to her wasn’t just my imagination.
It wasn’t.
Thirty seconds of her hand in mine generated enough electricity to power every string of lights in Christmas Village USA.
I had to know; now I do. There’s something.
And no matter what she says, the constant flush of her cheeks and adorable oversharing all say one thing: She feels it, she just needs more time.
Plus, I can read. And I do.
Everything she writes.
She’s coming around.
The warmup twang of guitar floats from the band donning tropical poinsettia shirts on the small corner stage as headlights shine through the window.
A minivan.
I grin.
But when Hollis pushes through the doors of Brew-Ha-Ha Brewing, my smile falters. Because she’s hot. Tight jeans, low sweater, new hair hot. And the way she’s strutting toward me, she knows it.
“Hey,” I say, setting the stack of cups on the bar.
Her usual light brown hair is in waves around her shoulders with new hints of blonde, and she’s wearing makeup.
Light pink on her full lips and mascara framing her blue eyes.
Little ankle boots and painted-on jeans make her legs look eight miles long.
The neck of her red sweater is low, revealing a small line of cleavage I haven’t had the privilege of seeing until this very moment.
Every time we’ve gotten together, she’s been cute—either dressed as a cat or casual—but this woman staring me down is downright sexy.
I rest my palms on the edge of the bar. “Wasn’t sure you were coming.”
When she’s directly across from me, she sets her coat and purse on the bar and gives me a feisty look.
“I said I had plans after,” she replies evasively.
My eyebrows pinch as she takes in the large room we’re standing in. From the exposed wood of the ceiling to the windowed wall behind me showcasing the copper vats and pipes to the stone fireplace filled with stacked logs and roaring flames.
“This where you work?” she asks, her eyes going from the hat on my head to the vintage Rudolph T-shirt I'm wearing.
“It is,” I tell her. “There’s a private event tonight. Little different than usual.”
She frowns and looks down at her outfit, confidence wavering. “Is it weird I’m here?” she asks. “A private event I’m not invited to?”
“Ah.” I rub the back of my neck. “You’re working with me.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a charity event for the animal shelter in the area,” I fill in as she eyes the Doggy Donations box, high-top tables covered in papers and pencils, and the chalkboard sign that says Brews, Brats, and Barks.
“Ticket gets beer and brats. We’ll serve the beer, Marv’s in the kitchen making the brats. ”
“Good evening, Hollis,” Marv calls from the kitchen.
“Hey, Marv,” she shouts, smile tugging at her lips. To me: “I’ve never been a beertender before.”
“I know a guy.” I tilt my head. “C’mon back and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
She shuffles behind the bar, giddy pep in her step until she’s beside me and I launch into beer mode. I show her the glasses and the taps, then give her the breakdown of the brews—all made in house—and let her taste each one.
I hold a glass to the tap, angling it slightly as I start to fill it. “This cuts back on the head,” I explain, working to minimize the foam.
“Too much head is a bad thing?” she jokes. “Must have been what went wrong with all those birthdays with my ex-husband.”
Instead of telling her I would gladly take that birthday gift, I laugh. She shrugs with a smile. So damn charming.
A tapping of claws and jingle of bells entering the room make us both look; my black lab trots into a space between the high-top tables and sprawls out across the floor.
“Goose,” I explain.
“A beertender and dog lover,” she says, almost playful. “You’re full of surprises, Jay.”
“Looks that way.” I smile and pink splashes her cheeks. I shouldn’t but . . . “How’s the internet dating?”
A spark lights in her eyes, like she was hoping I’d ask.
“I made an account,” she says, almost defiantly. “Last weekend.”
I straighten.
“Really?”
“Really.” She shrugs. “I surprised myself by doing it. But I figured I didn’t have anything else to do.
I’m not going to wait around, you know? People can’t just think someone will make a move and never do it and wait forever.
” She lets that land; it does. “And you would never believe how eager the pool is. Trust me.” Her eyebrows raise. “Very. Eager. Pictures and everything.”
The hell? I could’ve sworn she was bluffing last weekend. Even in her texts I wasn’t sure I actually believed she had other plans. But now? Now I’m not so sure.
“Really?” My eyes narrow. “Pictures?”
“Mhm.” She traces a finger along a rubber mat on the bar. “Very well-endowed pictures at that. I didn’t know dick pics could be so encouraging.”
Her face fills with impressed shock. By pictures. Of stranger dick.
It takes all my effort not to growl like some kind of barbarian.
“How so?”
Her lips twitch.
“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she says, lowering her voice and taking a step toward me. Leaning. “Know what I mean?”
Something is off. Her words mismatched with her mannerisms. She’s not flushed or flustered. She’s cool. Calculated, even. I stroke my mustache.
She toys with her hair.
“I have a date tonight with one of the men who liked on me. We’re having a beer.”
Liked on me?
“You’re meeting one of them?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “Tonight?”
“I am.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder with way too much gusto.
There it is: She’s lying. “I bought new panties—black thongs mostly.” I happily visualize this now that I know she’s not wearing them for someone else.
“Very stringy. I figured, why not? What’s it going to hurt?
I’ve been out of the game a long time. This is a good place to start. ”
“Stringy?” I ask, dragging the word out. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” A defensive edge creeps into her voice, and it’s pinched the way it seems to get when I call her out.
Judging by the way she keeps touching things behind the bar, she knows I know she’s bullshitting me.
“You think I’m just going to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs while everyone else is out having fun and getting sex?
” She scoffs with a bat of her hand; I resist the urge to kiss her on the mouth.
“I need the relief, you know? I need sex—now. I’m just a walking pressure cooker about to explode.
Probably won’t take much, really.” She winces.
“Probably just a touch.” Another wince. “Or lick.” Wince. “Or something.”
I work my teeth over my bottom lip.
“You need to get sex now, huh?”
“Yes.” Her eyes widen. “No. Not now now, like later now. On my date.”
I press my lips into a flat line and she presses the back of her hand to her face—which is as red as the shirt on my back.
Headlights shine through the front windows as a couple cars park. The first guests are here. Too bad. This was entertaining.
I look her over one more time, visions of her with licks, touches, and black thongs dancing in my head. I am a grown man with a very big crush. “You’ll have to let me know how that works out.”
Her jaw drops.
I grin.
The door opens to usher in the rest of the night.
The tables and bar are filled with people, most of whom I’ve known for years and have supported the business since day one. The donation box at the door is overflowing with leashes, doggy toys, and boxes of treats as the band plays every Christmas song ever written with a twist of rock.
Goose, despite the chaos, doesn’t budge from his spot on the floor.
While some people hate these things, I thrive on them.
I love my job and the people who let me do it.
Every handshake, conversation of beer, and wide smiled Merry Christmas!
is genuine. My once maybe someday dream gets to be my daily reality.
The scariest thing I’ve ever done with my life will forever be one of my best.
To her credit, Hollis recovers from her little act beautifully. She pours beer with focus like I’ve never seen and delivers plates of brats with a bright smile on her face.
It’s only when she catches me looking at her does her demeanor falter.