“Sadie Hunter. I’ve seen you on TV together, but I was beginning to think Max had made up the fact he was dating you.” Kara grinned, then beckoned them to have a seat. “Come on, sit. Fireballs, on the house! It’s a town tradition if you drive into a snowbank. News travels fast in this town.”
Fireballs?Sadie gave Max a quizzical look, but he justlaughed. She hoped they were some sort of delicious food—but doubted it. She perched herself on a barstool beside Max, peanut shells and sawdust crunching under the stool legs as she moved them.
“A Fireball is exactly what it sounds like,” Max eventually said, which was not reassuring at all.
There were a few other patrons, all focused on a hockey game playing on a television in the corner. “Canucks game,” Max said, by way of explanation. Most of the people watching the game had on toques or jerseys bearing a logo with a huge, angry-looking whale swimming its way out of a giant“C.”A man walked over to the jukebox in the corner and moments later, the blare of AC/DC’s “Mistress for Christmas” filled the room. Sadie grimaced.
“Not your favorite Christmas song?” Max shouted over the din.
“Calling this a song is a stretch,” Sadie shot back. “It’s sexist—definitely not my favorite.”
Max accepted two shots of light brown liquid from Kara. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said to her, and Sadie felt another jealous pang. She hated when Max calledher“sweetheart”—but apparently didn’t want him calling anyoneelsesweetheart, either. She grabbed a shot glass and slammed it back without thinking, then started coughing and sputtering while Max looked on, amused.
“Hey, you might want to go easy,” he said. “You look exhausted.”
“Hasn’t anybody ever told you never to tell a woman she looks tired?”
“Hmm, I do think my sister mentioned that once,” Maxsaid, with a crooked smile that looked even cuter underneath his new beard.
“Anyway, I’m fine,” Sadie insisted, even though her entire throat felt like it had been coated in hot cinnamon.
“Okay, then, tough girl. Want another?” Max drawled.
To prove him wrong, Sadie nodded. “I sure do,” she said in a strangled voice. “Two more, please.”
“And two bottles of Export,” Max said, glancing at Sadie. “Mind if I order some food for us?”
“Be my guest.”
“Also, two French onions. And a large poutine to share.”
Kara gave them their drinks and left the bottle on the bar. “Honor system, okay?” She winked at Max and Max winked back. Sadie grabbed another shot and drank it back. This time she didn’t cough.
“Whoa there, cowgirl, you haven’t even eaten yet,” Max said. “I don’t really want to be carrying you back home later. Maybe you need to slow down?”
“Back home? Who says I’m going home with you?”
“This town has exactly zero hotel options, and you have no car. I’m stuck with you.”
Sadie rolled her eyes, then pointed at the two shots sitting in front of him. “Why don’t you drink one of those to numb the pain of having to deal with me, then?”
“Nah. I’m a one Fireball a night kind of guy, really.”
“Fine, then. I’ll have yours.” She reached for one of his shots and glanced at him. “So... you and the bartender, huh?”
“What are you talking about?”
As if on cue, Brian Johnson shout-growled“Mistress!”on the speakers.
“She likes you.”
“Well, I would hope so. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and she’s engaged to one of my buddies out here.”
“Oh. Well. Great, then.”
Max looked down at his watch, then back up at her.
“What?”
