Page 5 of Mistletoe Kisses

It was a fair question since I usually had a plan for everything. “Not yet.”

“You’ll be okay, Arlo. I’m confident they’ll be thrilled to meet you.” His tone was encouraging.

We’d talked about the prospect of my meeting my late father’s family dozens of times—a dad I hadn’t known the identity of until last year—but the talking didn’t make thedoingof meeting them any easier.

“Thanks.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it there safely. Keep me posted this week. I want full updates on what’s going on out there in Oregon. Up there in Oregon?”

“And I want updates and how it’s going creating your beauty profiles.”

Keaton sighed. “Sure. I’ll let you know how that goes.”

I didn’t understand why Keaton was so hesitant to go all in on it because he would be incredible at it. In most things, if Keaton wanted to do it, he did. I could only hope that daring him to finally make it happen during his vacation would be enough to push him to take action. Though he was probably hoping the same from me, and I wasn’t sure I could. If I couldn’t, how could I expect him to?

“Text me later. Love you, A.”

“Love you too, Keat.”

I dropped my phone on the bed and stared at the frosted glass light fixture hanging from the ceiling.What am I going to do all week?No job. I didn’t know anyone in town. I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Keaton was enough of that for both of us.

I noticed a binder on the dresser. I got up and grabbed it, then returned to the bed. It was full of brochures for local activities and printed pages listing restaurants, things to do, helpful tips, and a schedule for the town festival.

I hoped something would catch my eye because sitting in this room for a week sounded like torture. A section about a local restaurant called the Inkwell Bistro, a local restaurant run by some award-winning chef, jumped out.

A knock at the door startled me. I got up to answer it and found Deb there.

She’d added a blinking lightbulb necklace in the brief time since I’d seen her. “Just popping by to let you know a few of the guests wandered in for happy hour already, so we’re going to get started early. Care to join us for some eggnog and cookies? I’ve got a great game planned.”

Small talk with a bunch of strangers with an audience of dolls watching us play games sounded hellish after an intense day of flying. I appreciated her trying to include me, but I would tank the cheerful atmosphere as the weird guy sitting quietly in the corner. Or, worse, they would try to “pull me out of my shell,” which often backfired and made me retreat more. I had a lifetime of those experiences to know exactly what to expect. I would save us all from it.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ve already got plans to head out for an early dinner, but I hope you all have a great time.” It wasn’t technically a lie, and if I went out to eat instead of ordering delivery, Keaton couldn’t accuse me of staying in all week.Inkwell Bistro, here I come.

Chapter2

Lucas

“Can I get another IPA?”A curly-haired regular with a big smile pushed her empty glass toward the edge of the table when I approached to check in.

“Of course,” I said with a matching smile. “Can I get anyone else a refill?” After getting their order, I crossed the restaurant to the bar.

It wasn’t too busy yet, which was typical for an early Monday evening at Inkwell Bistro. Busy meant more tips—which was great—but I enjoyed the slower shifts because I got to spend more time chatting with people. The social part of my job was the main reason I loved being a server. Getting to enjoy delicious food on my lunch breaks didn’t hurt either. What wasn’t to love about my line of work? At least once I’d discovered the value of investing in a good pair of shoes.

I hummed along to the Christmas tune playing on the restaurant’s sound system while I poured beers from the Tap That Brewery in town. When your boss’s boyfriend was the brewer at Tap That, you always had a steady supply of the best beer in the region. My boss, Caleb, had begun decorating the restaurant and switched to festive music right after Thanksgiving.

After pouring the beers, I carried them back to table two while singing along to a Christmas classic.

“This song is one of my favorites,” the smiley regular said when I returned with the beers.

A guy at the table wearing an Oregon State Beavers baseball cap studied me from under the bill. “Wasn’t that you at the festival years ago who—”

The woman smacked his shoulder. “Shh.” She shot me an apologetic look.

Tis the season forthatto come up again. Like clockwork, when the Christmas lights came out, so did the remarks and jokes.Will I ever live this down?I wished I could exist during this time of year without living under the shadow of my most embarrassing moments.

“Anything else I can get you all for now?”

“We’re good. Thanks so much.” I couldn’t stand the pity in her eyes.

---