A Shot of Mistletoe
SLOANE
Kill me now, I thought as I listened to Tim Johnson’s snort-like laugh. Glancing at my watch, I prayed the next ten minutes would fly by so I could walk away. All around me, women were vying for attention from the men in the room. And I was sitting there, with a man, thinking I would’ve had more fun getting waxed. Which… I typed a reminder to myself to schedule my Brazilian before the holiday.
“Sloane?”
My gaze flashed to Tim, who was watching me expectantly. “Huh?”
“What do you like to do?” he asked. “I feel like I’ve spent the whole time talking about me.”
That’s because you won’t shut the hell up. “I don’t like to do anything,” I said. “I’m boring.”
Tim grinned. “My sister tells me the same thing.”
“Great,” I muttered. The lie was obvious. Of course, I wasn’t boring. And I loved to do a lot of things, anything other than this. I finished my third drink of the night. The idea to do shots with my prospective travel partner was brilliant. Except when I took all the shots and he just sat there looking goofy as fuck.
I should’ve known there would be no love connection. When he’d arrived earlier, his red turtleneck and blazer were immediate turnoffs. Never mind he was too short, too skinny, and too damn nerdy for me. The fact that he’d color-coordinated his outfit to match the Christmas décor was merely icing on theIt-ain’t-happeningcake.
I tapped a finger on the tabletop, counting down the minutes until I was free. Free from the first date from hell. Sighing, I picked up my phone and typed a simple text to the women who’d put me in this situation:I hate all of you.Get me the fuck out of here.
As if on cue, Bliss strolled over to us. Leaning down, she whispered, “Eight more minutes, cousin,” before walking away again.
At least she was nice about it. When I glanced down to my phone, I read the texts from Courtney, Blake, and Dallas—all sent at the same time.
Courtney:Stop complaining, sis.
Dallas:Sit tight. One of Preston’s colleagues will be there soon.
Blake:Bitch, you got eight minutes. Deal with it.
I looked at Tim again and fought the urge to throw up. This fool was picking his teeth—with his finger.Ugh.Irritated, I fired off another text:It’s okay. Y’all are going to be wearing Mickey ears and eating overpriced Dole Whip with my ass at this rate.
I cracked up at the barrage of emojis Blake sent, signaling she would not be going anywhere near Disney. But before I could respond back, Bliss breezed over to us again and snatched my phone out of my hand, leaving me there with Tim without entertainment.
He frowned, pointing at Bliss. “Who is that?”
Shrugging, I forced a smile. “Nobody.” I rested my chin on my palm. “So, Tim, what do you do again?”
Tim puffed out his chest. On the surface, he wasn’t a bad looking man. Maybe Bliss was right. I couldn’t judge a book by its red turtleneck cover. “I’m an accountant.” He laughed, showing his big teeth and the piece of chicken stuck between his two front teeth.And he blew it.
I stood. “I have to go…” I looked up to find Bliss pointing at her watch. She held up a few fingers, signaling I had three more minutes. I plopped back down in my seat. “Never mind,” I grumbled.
“This was fun,” Tim said. “Maybe we can go to dinner sometime. Courtney told me you loved sushi. I know a great sushi bar we could go to.”
That’s right. It was Courtney who introduced me to this guy. He worked with her at the hospital. I made a mental note to fire her from date duty. For the next minute and thirty seconds, I sat there quietly. When Bliss came back and handed me my phone, I took it as my cue to leave. I shot him a small smile. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Tim, but this isn’t going to work. I wish you luck, though.” I stood again and picked up my purse. “You should stay. Maybe you can find your mistletoe match.” I started to walk away, but I delayed my departure to address him. “By the way, you didn’t get that chicken out of your teeth. You should probably handle that.” Without another word, I left him sitting alone and made a beeline for the bar.
Ryker smirked. “That looked painful.”
“It was. I need water,” I told him.
He set a tall glass on the bar and filled it with ice water. Ryker and I graduated from high school the same year. We didn’t hang out in the same circles, but we’d taken several advanced placement classes together. He’d always been a good guy, but we would never work. Too bad he wasn’t my type, though. Because he was certainly easy on the eyes with his dark skin and intense eyes. But he was just Ryker—more like a second cousin than a boo.
“It’s obvious you’re not into the set-up. Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Long story,” I murmured. “I don’t feel like getting into it. Besides, I have twenty minutes before the next guy arrives.”
He frowned confusion etched on his features. “Do I want to even know why you haveanotherdate tonight?”
