One
Mitch
The opening notes toAll I Want for Christmas is Youblast over the speaker, and I suppress a groan. Karaoke night at Mercury Slice is never my favorite—but at Christmas, it’s downrightpainful.
I pull my Santa hat down to cover my ears, but it’s no use. The woman’s pitchy voice comes through loud and clear. Unfortunately, it’s a voice I know all too well.
Selene is a local who lives within walking distance of the pizzeria. So, she’s herea lot.
And she has a thing for me.
That’s why it comes as no surprise when she points a finger at the bar as she hits the chorus. “All I want for Christmas… is Mitch!”
I wince but try to hide it beneath a forced smile before turning my attention to the people seated at the bar. I pour a few shots of tequila for a group of college-aged women, deliberately putting on a show. I twirl the bottle like I’m Tom Cruise inCocktail. The women eat it up, giggling and batting their eyelashes.
I spare a glance back at the stage and immediately wish I hadn’t. Selene is looking at me like I kicked her puppy.
I don’t want to hurt her feelings or publicly embarrass her, but she simply won’t take no for an answer. I’ve told her repeatedly that I’m not interested, but she refuses to listen, no matter how many times I say it.
The thing is, despite her atrocious singing, there’s nothingwrongwith her. She was the prom queen in high school and won the Miss Mercury Ridge pageant several years in a row. Most of the men in town have fantasized about taking her to bed more than once—and she knows it. So, she can’t fathom why I won’t bite the bait she’s slinging.
And man, oh man, does she sling it. Full throttle, in my face, nearly every day.
To be honest, it’s a little hard to resist sometimes. I’m pretty sure she’d be an excellent lay. She’s certainlyeager, which is always fun in the sack.
But I learned long ago that one-night stands with local women are a bad idea—especially when you’re a bartender at the town’s most popular restaurant. There’s no way to avoid blowback from the woman’s friends and relatives.
And a one-night stand is all I could ever give Selene.
Lately, I’m starting to think it may be all I can giveanywoman. Whichever gene makes other men want to settle down with a wife and kids seems to be missing from my DNA.
So, I make it a rule to only hook up with out-of-towners.Like the gorgeous brunette that’s sliding onto a stool at the end of the bar right now.
I suddenly have the urge to whistle appreciatively—a barbaric act that I’ve never been tempted to do before.
But damn.This woman is a knockout.TKO. I’m down for the count.
She’s clutching her cell phone, her forehead puckered in thought as she uses both thumbs to type out a message. A rush of irrational jealousy surges through my body. I want this brunette beauty to stop focusing on whoever’s on the other end of the text message and look atme.
Adjusting my Santa hat, I swagger over to her, giving her my most charming smile. “I’m Bartender Santa, and I’m here to make your Christmas cocktail wishes come true.”
Without a pause in her texting or so much as a glance in my direction, she says, “Gin and tonic, thanks.”
Ouch.
As I make her drink, my gaze continuously darts toward her, desperate to make eye contact. She finally finishes typing her message, but instead of looking at me, she turns to face the karaoke stage. The Mercury Ridge High School football coach is giving 110% to hisFrosty the Snowmanperformance. Normally, I like Coach Scroggins. He’s a nice guy, bald as a cue ball and just as round, one year away from retirement and ready to spend it with his wife of thirty years. But right now, with the knockout’s eyes on him, I’m a jealous caveman who wants to annihilate every other man in the room.
This is absurd.I am not the sort of guy to be green with envy, nor am I a man who fixates on one woman. There are plenty of fish in the sea. That’s always been my motto.
Butthiswoman is different. I’m not sure why, exactly. Yes, she’s gorgeous, with chestnut curls tumbling to her shoulders,big, hazel eyes rimmed with dark eyelashes, and plump, kissable lips. And she’s got curves for days, with enough flesh to grip between my fingers as I plow into her.
Fuck.I’m getting hard just thinking about it.
But my dick would be happy with any of the giggling girls with the tequila shots at the other end of the bar… so why am I so drawn tothiswoman?Maybe it’s a pheromone thing?
I reach out to tap her shoulder before setting her drink on the bar. She spins around and her eyes meet mine. They widen, and I’d swear her pupils dilate with attraction.
Good. She’s not completely immune to my charms, after all.
