Page 2 of Joy Ride
Dang it. What’s my next move? I don’t have all day. My calves are freezing. With my jaw rattling, I grip the tip of my glove between my teeth and tug it off. Then, I do the same with the other. My fingers are starting to get numb, but I check the base of the window and find a crack. I brace my hands on the glass, and pursing my lips, I give everything I’ve got to pry the window open.
I managed to lift it a smidgeon, but I need something for leverage. I pace the porch, find a box of kindling, and dig out a slim, heavy stick that appears to be oak.
This ought to do the trick. I wedge my makeshift crowbar into the tight crack at the bottom of the window and slowly try to force it open.
Hell, I should just shoot the damn thing. My nostrils are fusing together. The glass rattles and shakes, as I nudge the window up at least three inches. Then, I quickly shove my hand through the opening. My heart races as I blindly feel for a lock, and, bingo.
I unlatch the lever and lift the window high enough for me to crawl through. My boots hit the hardwood floors with a thud. “Whew.”
This isn’t breaking and entering, is it?
Chapter Two
The Wild Cat Bar and Grill really did the place up. I’ll give ‘emthat.I nurse my drink, scanning the twinkling tree in the corner. It’s next to the dance floor, but it doesn’t put me in any kind of Christmas spirit. My mood always goes straight to hell every season the first time someone has the nerve to ask for a spiked eggnog, as if I’d ever serve that kind of mucus in a glass.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the time off. My bar Boondocks is closed for business until January second, which gives me ten days of peace and quiet. After I pay the tab tonight for our employee Christmas party, I’m outta here. Done with all this nonsense.
Kelsey, my top bartender, almost misses a step in her high-heeled boots but recovers pretty damn gracefully considering how much tequila she’s had. She makes her way to my table, and I grimace, bracing myself for whatever inappropriate activity she’s about to propose. Thankfully, she gets caught up in a conversation on her way over. Fingers crossed I’ll get lucky and someone else will keep her occupied for the night.
Brooks and Dunn’s “It Won’t Be Christmas Without You”blares over the speakers, and it’s such a damn sad song. If I think about the lyrics too long, I’ll start remembering all the things I used to like about the season. Being ranchers, my parents didn’t have a lot of extra money, but my two younger sisters and I were never disappointed Christmas morning.
And then there are all those memories with Lynette, my ex.
Even though the past two years of our marriage weren’t great, to put it mildly, spending Christmas with her was better than being alone. I felt so anyway before she decided small town life wasn’t for her and cheated on me with some hedge fund suit she met at a conference. She ended up marrying him. Lynette and I are on good terms now, and I guess that’s all that matters. I don’t think I loved her as much as I should’ve.
“Hey,” Kelsey gives me a one shouldered shrug and peers down at me with a wicked grin. It isn’t my fault my eyes go straight to her cleavage, because the red top she has on is open down to her belly button. But it’s going to take a lot more than that to put my business at risk.
Even if I did find Kelsey sexually attractive, which I don’t, the last thing I need is someone suing me for unwanted attention or inappropriate behavior.
After clearing my throat, I look up and give her the professional, stilted smile I reserve for all my employees when they’re three sheets to the wind. “Having fun?”
“Not really,” she snorts. “What are you doing at this table all by yourself? The party’s over there.” She points to the large round banquette where my servers Jennifer, Kathy, and Tanya are sitting. Jennifer waves. “We all want to dance with you.” Kelsey bats her eyes. “But I’m first because I’m your favorite, right?”
I chuckle. All I fucking need is for my staff to start thinking I’m playing favorites. “I’m not touching that question with a ten-foot pole. And you know damn well I don’t dance.” Not with my employees, anyway. Dancing calls for touching, and there’s no way I’m laying a finger on any of them, no matter how much they want me to or how non-sexual my intentions might be.
“But it’s our Christmas party, Travis.”
“I’m aware. Who do you think is paying for this shin dig?”
Kelsey narrows her eyes, studying me with a frown. “You don’t have to be such a grinch.”
Thankfully, a server breaks the moment to drop off my next round. “Whiskey neat,” she smiles pleasantly and hurries to her next table.
“See?” I tip my glass to Kelsey. “I’m no grinch. I’m partying.”
“Right,” she mutters sarcastically, apparently giving up on propositioning me. I sip my drink in relief as she joins the rest of my employees at their table. Who the hell wants their boss hanging around and watching over their shoulders anyway?
Another few minutes tick by, and it’s just after ten. I polish off the rest of my drink. I’ve made my appearance.
There’s no need for me to stay any longer than required, so I say goodnight and Merry Christmas to my crew and take off. They’ll be fine because I’m putting them up for the night at the adjacent resort. Cash Parker, who runs the place, gave me a discount rate for the rooms.
After shrugging into my coat, I head straight out into the storm of the season. Shit. It’s really coming down now. I dig into my pockets and put my gloves on. Now, where the fuck is my truck?
“Yo!” A voice yells over a gust of wind. I turn, trying to find the source, and spot Hank through the white out conditions. He cups his hands over his mouth and leans out of his snow plow. “Need a lift?”
“No.” I shout back. “My truck’s here.”
Hank waves me to his plow. “No one is getting anywhere tonight.”
