Page 23 of Filthy Rich Santas

I glance at the room service menu but decide I want to be in the company of other people, even if they’re strangers, so I head down to the front desk to ask for some restaurant recommendations. The concierge points me toward a bar just down the street, selling it to me when he mentions that they’ve currently got Christmas themed cocktails that are to die for.

I really do love this season, and the minute I step into the lively bar, I know I’ve made the right decision. Upbeat Christmas music plays in the background, seasonal decorations give it a festive feel, and it’s busy enough to tell me the food must be good.

I decide to eat at the bar since I’m on my own.

“Have you seen our cocktail menu?” the friendly bartender asks me after I’ve placed my food order, almost like he’s reading my mind.

I grin at him. “Idodeserve a treat.”

He chuckles, tapping his finger on one of the listings. “Then you definitely need one of these Christmas Cranberry Cosmos. Unless you want something warm. Then maybe the Gingerbread Hot Toddy?”

“The Cosmo, please,” I tell him, and end up ordering a second one before I’m done with my meal, because just like the food, they really are that good.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me put that on my tab,” an unfamiliar voice says from just behind me when the bartender hands me my second drink.

I swivel around on my stool to face the man who just spoke.

“Too late,” I tell him, taking a sip and feeling more flattered than I’d like to admit at the attention when I see how good looking he is.

He grins at me. “In that case, maybe the next one?”

“Maybe,” I agree, flirting back a little as the drink loosens up my inhibitions enough to let the new, bolder version of myself that I’m trying to become rise to the surface. I know nothing will come of it and I’m totally fine with that, but it’s fun to have a little admiring attention on me.

Especially since I’m tipsy enough that the voices in my head that usually remind me of all the ways I’m not enough are quiet for now.

The guy sits down next to me and orders himself a Scotch, neat. Then he sees the shocked look I’m giving him and raises his brows. “What is it?” he asks.

I pick up the cute, laminated cocktail menu that lists all the seasonal drinks. “With all this to choose from,that’swhat you’re going with?”

He chuckles. “It’s a classic.”

“But it’s not very fun.”

“You’ve got me there.” He swivels his stool around to face me more fully. “Is that what you came here for tonight? Some fun?”

I pick up the last thick-cut French fry on my empty plate and hold it up, grinning. “Actually, I came for this.”

“Ah. A good choice. They’re delicious. But that’s not all this place has to offer, you know.”

I tap the cocktail menu again. “That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

He laughs again. “Then I definitely need to buy you another.”

Before I can decide if I want him to or not, my phone vibrates on the bar top where I have it lying next to my second empty Cosmo glass. The man I’m chatting with signals the bartender, pointing to my drink, as I pick up the phone to see a text notification in the group chat the guys insisted we set up earlier today.

TRISTAN: Just wanted to make sure you got dinner. We’re still in our meeting, but we’re about to order something to be sent up. Should I send something to your room too?

“Aw.” I smile down at the message. “That’s so sweet.”

“What’s so sweet?”

I look up, belatedly remembering the man I was just chatting with. “My friends are checking up on me. One sec.”

I type out a quick reply.

ME: I’m fine, thanks! I just ate, am having some amazing drinks, and even made a new friend.

I look up to find the bartender handing me a fresh Christmas Cranberry Cosmo.

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