Page 15 of Jingle Bell Rock

“Trust me, I know as well as you do that he can be a dick when he wants to be, but he’s changed—”

“Really?” I sat back and crossed my arms. “You know, I thought he’d changed too. I thought we’d truced it out and moved on, which is the only reason I even considered coming out here. But I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t. He’s just got some shit on his mind, and he’s lashing out. You know how he gets.”

“Yeah, I do. That’s why I left.”

“Trent, come on, man. It’s not personal.”

I jerked forward, a response on the tip of my tongue until Shaw reached over and laid his hand on my thigh. Just one touch from him instantly calmed me down, and I let out a heavy breath.

“Fine. I’ll listen. But at least tell me why Viper can’t seem to apologize for himself.”

“I think he will. Eventually. He’s just got…a lot going on today. I can’t give you more than that, but trust me, you’d be in the same damn headspace. So just…try to give him a break, yeah?”

I stared down my old bandmate, trying to read between the lines of what he was telling me and why I should give a fuck. Of course I wanted this whole thing to work out. It had to. One of the big selling points for the event was to see us all on stage together like we hadn’t had the biggest falling out in rock history. God knew I was the one who got the flack for leaving the band in the first place, and I wasn’t about to screw things up now.

“He can do that,” Shaw said, squeezing my thigh, and as I looked at him, a small, knowing smile played on his lips. “Right, Knox?”

“You asking me to be the bigger man?” I teased, and when he nodded, I sighed and faced Killian again. “Yeah, fine. I’ll try to refrain from knocking him over the head with my guitar.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Killian said, grinning broadly. “Thanks, man. And just so you know, we’re all glad to be doin’ this with you. Like old times, right?”

“Yeah.” I relaxed back against Shaw’s arm, my annoyance and adrenaline draining out of me—for the moment. “Something like that.”

Ten

Ryleigh

“HEY, YOU. DIRTY Dick Dawson. Get over here and tell me what you think of this.”

Dawson looked up from where he’d been overseeing the hanging of my Licked After Dark banner and, when he saw the shot glasses set out in front of me, quickly moved in my direction.

Thank God Paige had volunteered her husband to be my—in her words—“bitch” for the day, because I wasn’t sure I could do this without him. I needed a taste tester who could handle his alcohol as I did a final check of the specialty drinks I’d designed for the Jingle Ball tonight, and since my boyfriend, Hunter, was busy on a construction job, Dirty Dick would have to do.

As Dawson stopped opposite the bar from me, he gave me a lazy grin. Even after all the drinks I’d given him so far, he wasn’t glassy-eyed in the least. Things to be grateful for: my BFF and her man being complete lushes.

“More naughty Christmas shots just for me? Are you and Paige trying to get me drunk?”

“She volunteered you for a reason,” I said with a wink. “Okay, so I need you to tell me which of these you like the most.”

Dawson eyed the three shot glasses filled with varying shades of green mixed liquor. “All of them.”

“You haven’t even tried them yet.”

“But you don’t know how to make a bad drink, Ryleigh.”

I shook my head. “I appreciate you blowing smoke up my ass, but how about you take the shots, please and thank you.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Dawson lifted the lightest-colored glass to his lips, took a sip, and then made his way down the line.

When he set down the last shot glass, I drummed my fingers along the bar. “So?”

“So I was right. They’re all fucking delicious.”

“But if you had a favorite, it would be…?”

“All of them.”

Groaning, I dropped my head in my hands. “If you don’t stop being difficult, I swear I’ll have Paige replace your guyliner with a Sharpie.”

“Ouch. That’s harsh, Ry.”

“Then give me an answer so I can finish getting things ready. I only need one Grinch’s Jingle Balls.”

Dawson stared at me for a beat and then shook his head. “Of course you do. Let me try them again.” This time he sipped from darkest to lightest before pushing the middle glass forward. “This one tastes most like a Grinch’s Jingle Ball.”

“Balls. And about time,” I said, grabbing the chalk so I could write the drink’s ingredients on the board.

“Is he being difficult? Should I fire him?” Paige’s voice rang out as she sauntered toward the bar.

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