Page 32 of Mistle-Ho

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

My drink arrives and I check my watch before taking a long sip so I know exactly when I drank and exactly when I can leave. “What about you guys? How were your holidays?”

For the next half hour, my friends go around the table, lamenting the good and bad of holidays as single women. Lola’s mother lectured her about her desire for grandchildren. Isla got stuck managing her siblings’ spawn while their parents partied it up. Wren faced a formal dinner where she was the only person without a plus one. And Hazel—an only child—suffered through a nearly silent frozen lasagna dinner with her researcher parents. Personally, that sounds like heaven. Well, outside of the shitty food.

We’re just starting to discuss the state of our careers when the first suitor of the night sidles up to the table, wedging himself between me and Isla. He tries to claim more space, but I refuse to budge, glaring at him as he flashes a smile around the table. “Ladies.”

The guy is decently good-looking and has a nice set of teeth, but his whole approach irks me. I always say I wish more men hit on me, but this is a perfect example of why they don’t. While my friends’ expressions are pleasant and friendly, I’m scowling. I know I should try to fix my face, but I’m annoyed, and trying to smile only makes my nostrils flare more.

Which is why I nearly fall out of my seat when he turns to me, zeroing in as he holds out one hand. “I’m Tanner.”

“Uhh.” I blink, shocked and a little concerned. What does it say about this guy thatI’mthe one he decided on? That out of all the smiling girls at the table, he picked the one who looks most likely to punch him in the throat?

“This is Alexis.” Isla speaks for me since I’m still gaping at him like a fish. “And she really likes margaritas.”

If Tanner was paying attention, he’d notice my whiskey sour is not a margarita, but he doesn’t even check. Just lifts one hand and orders ‘me’ a margarita. He doesn’t bother to ask if I want a drink—I don’t—and then he makes another attempt to claim more space, this time using his elbow to shove mine off the table so he can creep into my personal bubble even more. “It’s nice to meet you, Alexis.”

Is it though? “Okay.”

“Are you from Sweet Side?” he asks, watching me intently over the rim of his glass.

“Uh-huh.” My eyes dart to my friends, bouncing around as they each motion for me to keep talking. “What about you?”

“I actually just moved here a month ago for my job.” He then goes into a fifteen-minute monologue about himself. Anytime I—or one of my friends—tries to get a word in, he gets louder, talking over us. He’s so focused on himself, the guy doesn’t even notice that Isla snaps up the margarita when it arrives and starts chugging it down. Probably to take the edge off the torture of his presence.

Finally, I’m over it. When he pauses to take a breath, I hold up one hand. “I’m going to stop you right there, Tanner, and let you know I’m really not interested.”

His eyes widen. Like he’s never heard those words strung together before. “But I bought you a drink.”

“And I listened to you talk about yourself for fifteen minutes.” I lean forward, lowering my voice a little. Like I’m talking to a five-year-old. “I think we’re even.”

He scoffs, looking fully affronted. “You aren’t even hot anyway.”

Lola gasps and I can see Isla picking up her empty margarita glass out of the corner of my eye. My friends are really sweetwomen. To a point. We’re all a little overprotective of each other, and I know Tanner’s about two seconds away from getting a tumbler to his temple, so instead of giving him the tongue lashing he deserves, I try to diffuse the situation. “I’m hotter than your mom.”

So maybe my diffusing technique could use some work.

Tanner’s mommy must be a touchy subject, because his face starts to get red and his eyes bulge out a little. “Little bitch. My mother’s a saint.”

I’m about to tell Tanner I’m sure that’s true since she puts up with an asshat like him, but before I get another word out, a huge hand clamps down on Tan-the-Man’s shoulder, jerking him away from me.

All the air freezes in my lungs as I look up, eyes stopping on the long-haired rugby player giving Mr. Personality an easy smile. “You probably shouldn’t tell women you’re a little bitch right out of the gate. Let them figure it out themselves.” Gavin pivots, his hold on Tanner staying tight as he switches their positions, putting his giant body between me and the reason I no longer want to get hit on. “And, for the record, sheishotter than your mom.” Gavin gives Tanner a shove, sending the smaller man stumbling back. Then he turns to the table, draping one muscled arm across the back of my chair as he greets my friends. “You guys having a good night?”

I swear Hazel sighs, a stupid smile on her face as she stares up at my brother’s best friend. “It’s way better now.”

Isla beams at him. “You are like a big, bearded, knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

Good god. The man doesn’t need anyone else trying to inflate his ego. There’s enough people doing it already. It’s actually a miracle Gavin isn’t completely full of himself.

Even if it appears a few of my friends wouldn’t mind being full of him…

“You guys remember Leo’s friend Gavin.” I say it loud, trying to pull their attention my way. “He was just leaving.” I appreciate him dealing with Tanner the Twat, but I’m irritated at the way he seems to think I’ll just forget what a buttface he was the last time we saw each other.

I’m also irritated at the way my friends are staring at him. Like he’s some sort of deity they would love to worship.

“No.” Isla grabs one of his hands. “Stay.”

My eyes snap to where she’s touching him. “I’m sure Gavin is here with someone else and—”

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