Page 8 of His Holiday Fate

If I’m being honest, it was fun. When that snowball hit my chest and I saw the playful, but competitive look on that omega’s face, something weird happened in my chest. It had been a while since someone caught me off guard and even longer since I felt like I wanted to have a bit of fun.

Damn this omega and his holiday cheer.

With a scowl, I head to the shower, wanting to get this done and over with. At least if I’m alone, I can resist being around anything festive and happy. It’s only three weeks. I can make it past the season until it’s time to get back to work.

It was a mistake to wash my hair, since it’s still so cold out, so I put my blow-dryer to use—something I haven’t done in forever. It always felt vain, like I was getting myself ready for someone.

With a start, I realize that I kind of am. As fine as that omega is, I want to look good for him.

Sneering, I toss the blow-dryer down and get dressed, in a shitty mood because it’s so early.

I throw the door to the bar open, frowning when I hear how loud the music is. Did I mention that I hate holiday music? I find Dylan dancing around, singing along as he puts some decorations up behind the bar. Glancing around, I see almost every square inch of this place decorated. There is garland around the mirror, little Christmas trees on some of the tables, a mistletoe over the front and back doors.

Too much.

When he notices me, Dylan’s face breaks out into a smile. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Why do you have all this Christmas shit around?” I ask instead of greeting him back, wanting to see if I can rattle him.

I’ll have my work cut out for me because he just continues to smile. “Because it’s festive. Everyone likes the holiday season.”

“No, they don’t,” I practically growl, stomping over to the bar and taking off my coat and scarf. “No one likes this shit.”

“I do,” he says in an almost dreamy voice. “It’s an amazing season. Caroling, snow, gifts for some people, celebration of faith and culture for others. It’s amazing.”

I harrumph, but don’t answer.

When he’s finished putting up his last bit of decoration, he turns to me with a wide grin. “I’m ready, Scrooge. There are three boxes that I need put in my truck, then we can head to the site. The parade is in five days.”

“And you waited until now to get your booth ready?”

“Yes, smart ass,” he says with a giggle, the sound trilling over me, tickling my ears. “I didn’t want to set up too early, in case of inclement weather. But I’ve checked the forecast and it should be clear skies for the next few days. Snow won’t start up again until next week.”

His cheerful demeanor grates on my nerves. There’s really nothing to be happy about in this cold weather and nothing festive about the season.

Standing from the stool, I tell him, “Point me in the direction of the boxes. I don’t know why you needed me here this early to load some shit up.”

“You are a grumpy gramps today.” I give him the side eye, making him laugh hard. “You are. You’re like an old man that wants kids to get off their lawn.”

“I don’t have a lawn,” I mutter, even though that means nothing.

He bumps me with a box. “Yeah yeah, neither do I. Let’s go. When we’re finished for the day, I’ll buy you some lunch. How does that sound?”

I grunt in acknowledgement, take the box, and pick up another. He indicates the way through the back door and I march after him. “Why do you have a truck? Not like there’s prime parking in front of your building.”

“Oh, I don’t drive it often. Only when I need to make deliveries.” He hops into the bed of the truck and pulls the boxes to the back after I put them on. “I can’t very well go around with crates in my hands.”

“Crates of what?” I grunt as I put one more box on the bed.

“My bottled cocktails.”

I look up at him. “Scrooge Specials?”

His tinkling laugh sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. He makes it hard for me to stay angry at the season. Nothing I do or say gets to him. Gotta admire that sort of not give a fuck.

His scent envelopes me and I have to shake my head to prevent myself from trying to burrow my face in his neck. It takes me a bit to realize he’s talking.

“No. It’s called Winny’s Delight. Want to try some? I sell it locally. It does really well. I need the truck to take deliveries when someone orders a case or five.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com