Page 8 of A Christmas Auction

“Happily?” he hedged, and she nodded.

“Dude, seriously?” I laughed.

“Hey, a man has to shoot his shot when the most beautiful woman alive walks into the bar.” He confirmed my exact thoughts. She was something else.

“I thoughtIwas the most beautiful woman alive.” I crossed my arms and playfully glared at him.

“You’re the most beautifulblondeI’ve ever known. But I don’t want to fuck you. You’re like my sister. You’re hot, but again…” He grimaced. “Too sisterly, blech.” He shivered as though grossed out.

“You suck!” I bumped his hip with my own and then remembered that was the bruised one. “Ouch! Damn it all to hell in a handbasket.” I moaned in pain, rubbing my hip.

Mac’s hands instantly curled into fists. “So, your hip is fucked up too? Not just your hands or those elbows that are nasty looking and barely scabbing over. Not to mention, you keep touching the crown of your head as if just the weight of your hair hurts. That only happens when someone is pulled around by their hair forcefully. Is that what they did to you? Hmmm? I want every detail, Holly.”

I turned around and placed my hands to Mac’s broad shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m okay. I’m right here. Alive and well. Just a few bumps and scrapes. No worries. We’re having fun. The entire freakin’ club is here. Enjoy your brethren while I talk to Alana.”

“Alana? Pretty name for a pretty lady.” He waggled his eyebrows in her direction.

“Merci,” her lips pressed together, and she looked down and away while tapping red painted nails on the bar top rather seductively. Although, I didn’t think being sexy or enthralling was her intent. The woman just oozed confidence, elegance, and unbelievable beauty.

“Mac, please,” I begged, staring into his eyes.

“Fine,” he grated through his teeth. “I’ll drop it, for now. Tomorrow, all bets are off.”

I groaned and then went over to the most expensive bottle of tequila we served and poured two shots a piece into two different glasses. Then I grabbed a couple wedges of lime and plonked them on the rims of each glass. I set one in front of Alana and then picked up the other for myself.

She smiled, showing all her white perfect teeth. “To new opportunities.”

“Sure,” I shrugged and clinked her glass then shot the entire double while she sipped hers primly. The alcoholic burn sliding down my throat was the liquid courage I needed to get through the evening with Mac and his brothers brooding about whathappened to me. “Soooo, thanks again for what you and your friend Bruno did the other night. The drink is on me tonight. Actually, every time you come in your drinks are on me. If you hadn’t shown up, things could have been very different. I’m really grateful you had my back. It looks like you are my fairy godmother after all.”

Alana chuckled whimsically and set down her drink. “Technically, a fairy godmother would have more to offer than assistance fending off a couple bad men. And besides, that was all you and Bruno. I just happened to be in the car at the right time.”

“Well, I’m still grateful. But that doesn’t give me any hints as to what brings you here tonight.”

“I have something I’d like to discuss with you. Is there somewhere private we could chat?”

“Sure. My place is just upstairs.” I pointed above our head.

“You live here? Over the bar?” That time it was Alana who put her hand over her heart.

What was it about me that made everyone react as though I was shocking them left and right?

“Yep. Come on. You can bring your drink. I’m going to pour myself another.” For some reason, I felt I was going to need even more courage than I previously anticipated. “Mac, I’m going upstairs for a bit. Cover for me.”

He waved me off like batting away a gnat. Rude.

Alana followed me around the bar, through the back door, and up a set of stairs. I pulled out my key and unlocked my door. I always kept it locked up tight while I worked, just in case someone tried to slip up the stairs without my notice.

I gestured to the small round table with four chairs tucked underneath it. My studio apartment was laid out really well and the square footage matched the entire size of the bar. When you walked in, my bedroom space was on the left. I had a queen-sized bed placed against the wall along with a nightstand and a pair of matching lamps on either side. Purposely, I had my dad rig up floor-to-ceiling bookcases to create a divide between my room and the living space. We removed the back panel of the bookcases so that you could see through them, making the space seem even bigger.

In the center of the room, I had a single couch that faced a faux fireplace and mantle. Within the insert I’d placed an electric fireplace that actually put out some heat, and I adored the flickering light. Above that was my TV. Pictures of my family and friends dotted the mantle along with some candlesticks. To the right of the entrance and the living room was my small kitchen. It was an L-shape leaving the rest of the space open, so that’s where I put the tiny four-seater table. I never wanted to live in a place where I couldn’t have my parents sit down and share a meal with me.

Alana took a seat at the table, sat up straight and crossed her legs.

I plopped into the seat opposite her. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“I want to talk about you,chérie. When we first met, you said you wanted to own your own bar.”

“That’s right…”

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