He dumps it out before tossing the cup away. I open my mouth to snap at him for justtakingmy drink from me, but I stop when I see him grab a fresh cup.
I take control of my legs and follow him to the counter where all the liquors and mixers are. He begins to pour an array of things into the cup, using a coffee stir stick to swirl it together.
When he’s done, he turns, holding it out to me. “Try this.”
Narrowing my eyes, I take it slowly. Heat travels through my fingertips as they brush his, and our eyes flick to meet each other’s.
Bringing the cup to my lips, I hold his gaze as I take a sip. This tastesmuchbetter than the last monstrosity—and I’ll admit, I’m surprised.
It’s a creamier drink than the last, its sweet richness flowing easily across my tongue. There are hints of vanilla, mixed with what I think is Baileys.
“This is good—what is it?” I ask before taking another sip.
He grins at me, giving me a wink. “It’s a sugar cookie martini. It has Baileys, vanilla vodka, amaretto, and a bit of milk.”
Sugar cookie? That’s…stillfestive. Though, I suppose I canmaybetolerate it. Only because it tastes so good, and sugar cookies are a year-round treat—unlike gingerbread, or candy canes.
Still, it’s a bit strange of a combination—specifically, the addition of milk. He’s clearly onto something.
“Well, thank you.” I move to take a step past him, but he tilts his head, his snakes all slowly looking at me as they let out small hisses.
Freezing in place, I can’t help but examine them. It’s slightly unsettling, but also intriguing. What are they, or he, thinking that makes their attention lock onto me?
“You don’t want to stay a while? Watch the show, maybe get a dance?” He winks again.
I raise a brow at him. “Are you that desperate for tips you need to beg to give someone a dance?”
“No.” He shakes his head, giving me a sultry smile that causes a flutter between the legs. “Iwantto give you a dance.”
As much as I don’t want it to, the comment makes the fluttering stick around, heat building between my legs—and in my face. God, I amnotblushing over someone in a Santa suit.
But if I look past the suit…
No, I need tostop. The Christmas music must be making me sick in the head. Or maybe it’s just his face making me forget about all the reasons I hate Christmas.
“Are you offering me a complimentary dance…” I go to say his name, but realize I don’t know it. I could only refer to him as Santa or snake head, and neither of those appeals.
He grins at me, and I notice his has two particularly sharp teeth, similar to snake fangs. “Felix—and absolutely I am.”
Well, it might help make time go by quicker while I wait for the roads to be plowed. But that’s theonlyreason I would even consider accepting.
“Are these dancesprivate?” I lower my voice as I ask. The last thing I need is my employees seeing an unprofessional side of me.
His head tilts as he shakes it. “I’m a stripper, not a prostitute.”
For the first time in…well, a while, my cheeks get warm. I wasnotinsinuating we go hook up somewhere.
If we’re going to hook up, likehellit’s going to be at my workplace. He can just come back to my place.
And that sounds like a reward to myself for being stuck in this excessively decorated, overly cheery place.
CHAPTER 6
FELIX
“Then no dance for me,” she declines, but she doesn’t walk away.
My disappointment swirls with the unholy desire that I have for her. While her demeanor is cold and her attitude could use some work, she isstunning.
