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It’s the voice of someone I’ve thought about more than I’d care to admit, even though we’ve never really spoken more than a couple of words to each other.
Swallowing roughly, I look down the bar until I locate him. Our gazes lock, and his piercing brown eyes, olive skin, and tousled brown-black hair send a tingle through my limbs.
This alluring man has only been in a few times, and every one of those times, I turn to jelly. I can’t string two fucking words together. His looks cause my brain to turn to mush, and I have to take a minute to recover from his presence.
Say something tonight,I beg myself. Looking briefly up at the mistletoe.
I’m never tongue-tied or struggling for words. Normally, you can’t shut me up, but this man has me shaky on my knees.
I finally step over to him, running my hands over my skimpy Santa clothes and my eyes over his white shirt that’s rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing his muscled forearms dusted with dark hair. He must’ve pulled at his tie because it’s loose around his neck.
It’s like he has just left work. On Christmas Eve?
Chapter 2
Marco
IhateChristmas.It’sthe worst holiday of the year, when everyone plays pretend happy family. I’m on my way back to New York City, but I needed to see her for some reason. I knew she could make Christmas more bearable and looking at her hazel lust-filled eyes staring back at me now, makes me glad I stopped by.
A place like this isn’t one you’d typically find me in, but I stay down at the end of the bar to keep off other patrons’ radars while I’m here. I don’t want to be spoken to by anyone while I’m here…except her.
I watch her move like an angel. She wears the brightest red lipstick, only enhancing the shine of her brilliant white smile. And her small sexy santa outfit including her thigh high socks are causing me to swallow a growl. The way these men look at her makes me sick. I stumbled into this bar once when my car broke down on a work trip, and I have only been back since to get a glance at her.
I sip my drink slowly, admiring her beauty, and I wonder every time what her story is…why is she working here?
She looks to be mid-twenties and seems to have a good head on her shoulders, but she works here, in this old town bar. Is this a part-time job? Is she in school? If so, that’d mean she’s starting late? Or maybe she’s gone back for additional studies? Maybe instead of thinking about every possibility, I could make this a lot simpler and talk to the woman.
All these questions come to me, but every time I have come in here, I haven’t been able to ask. I’m speechless by her beauty, but also, I know I’m too old for her. Heck, I’m a thirty-eight-year-old who can’t talk to a woman. I bet my friends would have a field day with that. So, when she comes over, standing in front of me, her hands gripped to the counter, and her angelic voice says, “Hi,” it’s no surprise that I respond so lamely.
I smile and say, “Hi.”
“Would you like the usual?” she asks with a wide grin and a sparkle in her eye. My heart skips a beat at the adorable way she is staring at me right now. When she looks at me like that, I wonder for a brief second if she does that with everyone, or if it’s saved just for me.
Hell, I hope it’s the latter.
“Please,” I say with a small nod. The corner of my lip twitches.
“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.” She pushes off the bar and moves effortlessly to make my scotch on the rocks before dropping it in front of me and pausing. Her hands are leaning on the counter again, seemingly waiting for me.
“Thanks.” I hand over my money and my usual generous tip.
She takes it from me, and when our hands graze, it sends my heart hammering.
What was that?
Pushing that feeling aside, I decide I need to take this opportunity to talk to her. Finally.
“So—”
“Did you—”
But she has the same idea, and it makes us both laugh.
“You go.” She lifts her hand toward me.
I shake my head. “Ladies first.”
“Did you, uh, just finish work?” she stumbles, and I smile wider. Glad I’m not the only one affected. I run my gaze over her hand to check—but no ring still.
