“No more dog-walking jobs,” I said, collapsing against the counter in the shop when I returned. Olivia handed me a glass of wine.
“Kringle was the laziest dog ever. I practically had to drag him down the street. Finally, I gave up, and we just sat in the Christmas market and shared a cinnamon bun.”
“I can’t believe Matt hired you to walk his dog.”
“He didn’t know.” I wrinkled my nose. “It’s one of those small-town things. You just can’t escape the people you want to see the least.”
Olivia made a kissy face. “I think Matt arranged it on purpose.”
“He didn’t,” I grumbled, pulling out flour, sugar, and red, white, and green sprinkles for the Christmas pinwheel cookies I was making.
“He’s a tech billionaire,” Olivia argued, pouring herself more wine. “He knows how those apps work. Shoot, he probably coded a bot that’s tracking your social media.”
“No!”
“Yeah! He saw your tits last night, and now he’s obsessed.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I bet he would waive your rent for a blow job.”
“Gross!” I said as Olivia shrieked in laughter.
“Maybe,” she said, trying to say the words around her giggles. “You could have him dress up in flannel, you know, knock a few Christmas fantasies out with one orgasm.”
“In no universe will I sleep with Matt,” I said, mashing the butter and sugar together. “That’s not happening ever. I will spend Christmas in the Bahamas before that happens, and you know I refuse to spend Christmas anywhere where I won’t be able to wear boots and a scarf.”
Olivia wiped her eyes. “You wouldn’t be sleeping with him. You don’t have a bed. You’d have to do it reindeer style on the floor.” She collapsed in a fit of laughter.
“You have had way too much to drink,” I said, face flaming. I guzzled the cold white wine.
I bet sex with Matt would be hot. Really hot.
I fanned myself.
You have made a lot of terrible decisions this Christmas season. However, sleeping with Matt will not be one of them.
“Pass me the food coloring,” I said primly as I mixed in the eggs and vanilla.
“You’re really going all out for your dad’s Christmas party.”
“Ha,” I said, adding the dry ingredients. “This is phoning it in. One year I hand decorated a ton of Christmas cookies, and he barely even acknowledged them. Pinwheels are the easiest cookies to make.”
“I would have just shown up with a lump of coal,” Olivia said. “After how he’s treated you, he doesn’t deserve cookies.”
“It’s Christmas,” I said with a sigh. “That means family.”
I separated the dough into two big balls…
I bet Matt has big balls.
…and added red food coloring to one and green to the other.
“At least Aunt Bettina will be there. She’s making the Crock-Pot meatballs and artichoke wonton wrappers.”
“Yum!”
“And there will be alcohol,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.
In truth, I was not looking forward to this Christmas party. And I loved Christmas parties.
I took another sip of wine.
