Page 14 of Their Christmas Miracle

Holly

Iwatch Josh walk away, a frown on my face. Fuck, this guy was touchy. Every two seconds, I’m saying something to piss him off.

I smile. It is kinda fun. Except…

My eyes glide over the crowds of sedately-dressed business folks and couples. This isn’t exactly one of those places where they have a ball pit for the kids and break into song if it’s someone’s birthday. I think it’s jazz playing on the sound system, and the waiters? They’re bigger snobs than my dad.

I mean, the Golden Goose had sounded fun… but I hadn’t realized every other person in this place would have a stick up their ass.

I fidget with the hem of my jersey, shifting on the seat. I love this little nook we’re in. It’s unfortunately not private enough to shield me from all those curious glances — seriously, does he know everyone in this fucking place? — that keep coming my way. But the fabric feels gorgeous against my skin, and the golden light streaming out around me makes me feel a little like I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Not they’d let me past those pearly gates.

Oh, hell no.

I giggle and drain the rest of my beer. For a second, I get angry thinking back to Josh asking if I was old enough to drink. How old did he think I was? God, it’s not like I’m wearing a fucking training bra. Or any bra, really.

I catch the waiter’s eye — not difficult, since he’s been staring at me the whole night — and call him over.

Sitting forward, I lace my fingers together and slide my wrists on the table, giving him a coy glance from under my lashes.

“Josh come here often?” I ask softly.

The waiter leans in to hear me and then nods a few times. “At least three times a week.”

“He ever bring anyone else?”

Three furious shakes of the waiter’s head. “No. Never.”

I nod. “Cool. Bring me your two most expensive shooters, will you?”

The waiter grins, nods, and almost gets three feet away before I call him back.

“Actually, make that four.”

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