'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  I bring it to my mouth and drink it and scrunch up my nose. “Fruity,” I tell her, and she laughs, “which means that four of these can have someone rolling on the floor.”

  “Exactly,” she says and then serves someone when they come in and put their hands up. I don’t have time to tell her to go back and eat because the bar gets slammed with the Friday rush of mostly people getting out of the snow. We work side by side. I try to stand as close to her as I can when I can, just to be next to her, and when I ring the bell for last call, she is in the middle of cleaning the half the bar that she worked on.

  Shelly comes over and hands me her cash bill, and I nod at her. “Don’t forget I’m off tomorrow,” she reminds me, and I put my head back. “You forgot.”

  “No,” I tell her. “Okay, maybe, but I thought Charlie would be back.”

  “Well, I can help.” I feel Leah beside me. “It’s fun, and after today, I need a distraction.”

  “Looks like I won’t even be missed,” Shelly says. “Night, all.” She walks out the door, and I follow her to lock it.

  “Is it always this much fun?” Leah asks from the bar as she grabs a tray and picks up the plates to bring them to the back.

  “I don’t know about fun.” I smile at her. “But it’s always this busy.” I turn off the lights and follow her to the back. “Let me show you how to get upstairs.”

  She puts the tray back and then walks back out to get her jacket. “It’s not that far,” I tell her, and she just follows me as I open the door and walk out toward the cast iron stairs in the back alleyway. I hold out my hand to her so she doesn’t slip. When we get into the loft, I turn on the soft light for her.

  “Thank you,” she says, taking off her coat.

  “I put you in the spare room,” I tell her and kick off my boots. “Follow me.” She kicks off her own shoes and then hangs her jacket next to mine. “This is the bedroom.” I open the door. “It has its own bathroom.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “Today has been eventful.”

  I lean against the doorjamb as she goes to sit on her bed, and her phone rings from her pocket. “That must be the husband,” I say, my stomach sinking. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

  She looks from her phone to me in shock. “You live here?” she asks.

  “I do,” I tell her. “This used to be Charlie’s room, but then he moved in with.”

  “Oh my god.” She gets up, and I laugh. The phone stops ringing and then starts again.

  “See you tomorrow, Leah.” I close the door and walk away. The ringing stops. I walk to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, and then head to my room. I’m starving, but I’m not going to be able to eat anything. I undress and take out my contact lenses right before I slide into bed. I lie on my back, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why she didn’t come with her husband.

  The sound of banging pots wakes me up from my sleep. I look over and see that it is after ten in the morning. Rolling out of bed, I walk over to my bathroom and slip on a pair of basketball shorts and grab my glasses.

  I walk into the kitchen and see her standing at the stove cooking something. She wears shorts and a tank top. “Good morning,” I mumble, going over to the fridge and grabbing the orange juice.

  “Morning,” she says, sounding chipper. “Did I wake you?”

  “I usually get up at around this time,” I say and close the fridge door, going to the coffee machine. I press the buttons as I walk around the island, not getting too close to her, and grab a cup. I walk to the machine, and she turns her head, and it’s in slow motion, or at least it feels like slow motion in my head.

  She gasps out in shock when he sees me. “Oh my god, Brett?”

  Chapter 5

  Leah

  “Oh my god, Brett,” I say out loud, shocked. The spatula falls from my hands as I look at my brother's oldest friend. “What …?” I ask, shocked and surprised. “How …?” I look at him up and down. “When …?”

  “Maybe we should do this one question at a time.” He tells me in his accent.

  “Stop talking like that,” I tell him, bending down and grabbing the spatula. He walks over to the drawer and grabs another one. “And go put on some clothes.”

  He looks at me and smirks. “Is me being without a shirt bothering you?” I make the mistake of looking over at him and seeing his six-pack and the small dusting of hair that leads down to his. I turn my head to the side, my face feeling like it’s flushed and on fire.

  “You’re going to burn the eggs,” Brett says from beside me, and I look down at the eggs. “Are you just going to stand there?” he asks, standing way too close to me, and I move out of the way. “Let me plate this, and we can sit down and talk.”

  I look at him, and I see it now. I mean, minus the muscles and the beard and the short hair. “I’m going to get a sweater,” I tell him, walking away and almost run to my bedroom.

  My phone beeps while I’m in there, and I pick it up to see a text from Alan.

  Alan: We need to talk about this.

  I shake my head. I declined all his calls last night.

  Me: The only thing that needs to be discussed is what is your lawyer’s name.

  I see the three dots come up, but I throw my phone on the bed and go out to see Brett sitting at the small table in the corner. He set the table with both plates, orange juice, and coffee. “I don’t know how you take your coffee,” he says, and I sit down in front of him.

  “This is.” I start to say, not sure of the words.

  “Strange.” He says the words and takes a bite of the toast. “But then just like old times.”

  “No,” I say, grabbing a piece of toast, “not like old times. What happened to you?” I look at him and see his familiar eyes.

  “Well, I got braces.” He points at his teeth. “Decided that shaggy hair was not a good look for me.” I laugh now, looking at him. “Then I started going to the gym when someone called me scarecrow.” He laughs now. “Got contact lenses when I slipped in the mud once, and my glasses ended up under my boot.”

  “The accent,” I point out to him. “That is new.”

  “The accent,” he says, “came with living there for over eight years.”

  “The beard too.” I mention the last thing that makes his look unrecognizable.

  “The beard is me being lazy,” he admits. “Now that we got all of my things out of the way, why are you here, and where is your husband?” He leans back in the chair, looking at me.

  “Well, as I told you yesterday, I’m unemployed,” I start. “Apparently, they no longer need to have someone come in and teach you how to be a bartender anymore.”

  “You are more than that,” he says, and I smile at him.

  “Thank you. And well, if that wasn’t just a kick in the teeth, I came home and found Alan almost balls deep in my best friend.” His mouth hangs open. “Which, apparently, has been going on for at least five years.”

  “What a fucking douche.” He shakes his head.

  “You don’t even know him.” I agree with him silently.

  “Well, from what Charlie told me, he’s a douche, and well, cheating on you, the man has lost his mind.” He shakes his head. I try to ignore how good it feels to hear someone say that.

  “On the whole airplane ride here, I kept replaying how I could have avoided this. How could it have been right under my nose without me knowing? It’s insane,” I tell him, and he snorts.

  “Um, if you were in my bed,” he says, staring straight into my eyes, “I’d make sure you never left.”

  I swallow. “Um, that is inappropriate,” I tell him, “I’m older than you.”

  “By four years,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like you would be robbing the cradle.” He gets up now, grabbing our empty plates. “Besides, I’ve dated older women.” I swallow now my mouth suddenly dry when I want to ask him about these women he’s dated. I don’t even know why I care. “None could top you, though.” />
  “What?” I ask, shocked.

  “Oh, come on, you had to have known I was in love with you. I followed you around like a puppy,” he says, and all I can do is blink at him, “Do you want to come with me?” He looks at me as he dries off his hands. “I have to go get the Christmas tree for the bar.”

  “Um …” I look at him as he runs his hands through his hair and then scratches his neck, his shirt lifting up a bit on the one side. “You were in love with me?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Dress warm,” he tells me, “and be ready in ten.”

  He turns and walks out of the kitchen, leaving me there in shock. “What just happened?” I say to myself, getting up and walking toward the bedroom.

  “He used to love me,” I say more to myself just to make sure I heard him correctly. Okay, fine, I knew he would follow me all the time, and he would always want to sit next to me, but I thought it was just a friends thing.

  My phone beeps, and I look down to see five missed texts and one missed call from Alan.

  Alan: We can talk about this.

  Alan: Please don’t ignore me.

  Alan: I love you, Leah.

  Alan: Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.

  Alan: It was a mistake.

  I roll my eyes at that one and turn off the phone. “Are you ready?” I hear Brett calling.

  “No, give me five,” I tell him and then get dressed in jeans and a sweater.

  “Is this warm enough?” I ask, walking into the room and seeing him standing there, his glasses gone. His hair is hidden under a tuque sitting on the back of his head. His thick brown sweater is covered with a black parka, and his jeans are just sitting low on his waist. He looks like he just walked off the runway. “Yup,” I say, walking over to my jacket, “definitely warm enough.”

  Chapter 6

  Brett

  “That tree has to be fifteen feet tall.” Leah laughs at me. “Which means it won’t fit in the bar.”

  “But it would fit in the loft.” I nod at the guy who walks over to the tree and starts to cut it down. “I’m probably going to have to have this delivered.”

  “Really?” she asks, shocked, and I just shake my head.

  “You weren’t so sassy when you were younger.” We’ve just spent the whole day walking through the woods, checking out trees.

  “We should get back.” I look at my watch. “I usually try to nap before the Saturday night shift.”

  “How busy is Saturday night?” she looks over at me and asks.

  “It’s usually jam-packed because we have open mic night, and they can come in and play or dance,” I say. “We started it as a joke one night, and it became bigger than life.”

  “That sounds like so much fun,” she says, and I look over at her. When she told me about her husband, I was in shock. Why would any man cheat on her? I mean, it also wasn’t my brightest moment to tell her I used to love her. But she was sharing her secret with me, so I had to share mine.

  “Well, I’ll remind you about how much fun you think it is when you can’t move tomorrow.”

  “Hey, I used to work in Vegas,” she points out. “They close at six in the morning there.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I look at her.

  “Okay, fine, it was for one semester, but still,” she says, and I laugh at her. The phone rings again in her pocket, and she looks down at it and then up again. “It’s my mother.” She gasps out.

  “Okay,” I say, not sure why she is freaking out.

  “No one knows I’m here.” She then starts to pace. “I was going to come up with a plan before I saw her.”

  “A plan?” I put my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out and pushing the hair away from her face.

  “Hello?” she says, looking at me. “Hey, Mom.” She looks up. “Yeah, I got in yesterday. I wanted to see the town a bit before I swung by home.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, “Yeah, I’ll call him. I spoke to him this morning.” She scrunches up her nose. “Okay, I’ll call him now. Love you too.”

  “He called my mother,” she hisses. “Asshole knew I wouldn’t be there, yet he called anyway.”

  “Even I knew you would never go home,” I remind her, “but I’ve known you longer than he does.”

  “He did it on purpose because I didn’t answer his calls or his texts,” she tells me and puts her phone in her pocket. “Let’s go so I can nap. I have a big night.”

  I shake my head, and she doesn’t say anything else in the truck. I want to ask her all the questions, but I know she’s playing it out in her head just like she always did.

  We both take naps, and when I walk down the hallway, I see her standing there in tight black jeans and one of the bar’s T-shirts. It fits her just a touch too tight. “Ready?” I look at her, and she just looks at me and nods.

  “A ligean ar dul,” I tell her, and she just looks at me. “It means let's go.”

  I hold the door open for her, and she takes the same path we took last night. As I open the door, the smell of food hits us right away as I nod to the chef. “Kitchen is opened until nine, then it’s closed,” I tell her, and she nods at me.

  “What do you say …” She looks over at me when she gets behind the bar. “The one with the most tips buys dinner tomorrow.” I laugh, slapping my hands together.

  “How is that fair?” I tell her, and she just looks at me. “You have those two.” I point at her breast, and she shakes her head.

  “Such a male thing to say.” She starts checking the stock. “You also have that thing.” She points at my face. “And that.” She points down to my cock. “You got two things in there also.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Good point,” I tell her as she starts to prepare the stuff like she likes it. “But let’s make it more interesting.”

  She looks over at me. “Loser takes the winner out on a date.”

  Her head tilts to the side. “That is the same thing.”

  “Not even close.” I tell her, “buying dinner and taking someone on a date are two different things.”

  She folds her arms over her chest. “You weren’t this cocky when you were younger.”

  I walk to her now, putting my hands on the bar and boxing her in. “That was then,” I say, then lean in just a touch, and I can see her eyes go just a touch darker. She watches me, her eyes not even blinking. I put my lips to her ear, and I can smell her citrus smell, and my cock wakes up. “This is now.”

  Chapter 7

  Leah

  “This is now,” he says in my ear, and I can swear a shiver runs up my neck. “I’m all grown up now.” He turns and walks down to his end of the bar. “It’s going to finally happen,” he says in his accent. “I’m going on a date with Leah.”

  “Or not if I win. I want you to cook for me,” I tell him, thinking he is going to shy away from it.

  “With or without my shirt.” He winks at me annoyingly, and I roll my eyes.

  “With a snowsuit on,” I tell him when the door opens, and two people come in. I smile at them, and they sit at a table. I don’t have a chance to talk to him because a group of ten people comes in, and the rush starts. By the time I look up, over a hundred people are there, and we are swamped. I go down the bar, getting orders and making them. He walks to my side of the bar to grab a bottle behind me and softly touches my back.

  I sing along to the songs, and when I look over at Brett, he is singing also. He puts his head back and sings almost as loud as he can. It’s contagious, and by the end of it, the whole bar is singing along. He serves drinks with a smile and flirts when he needs to, but he catches me each time I look over. He winks at me and then pours two shots coming over and handing me one, “Slainte,” he says, and I down the shot, ignoring the hiss and burning that comes out.

  Another song comes on, and he dances his way to his side of the bar, and while he is handing out the drinks, he sings the whole time, and I can’t help but laugh as he tries to dance and fails miserably. He grab
s me by the hand and spins me behind the bar, and I don’t think I’ve laughed harder in my life. He puts his hand around my waist and sings while pulling me to him. The whole bar claps as he wraps his arm around my waist and tries to keep up with the beat. “It’s all fun and games until you have to dance,” I yell at him, and he throws his head back and laughs at me.

  He pulls me closer to him and bends his head to talk in my ear. “Oh, you silly, silly girl.” His voice is soft. “This is just an excuse to touch you.” He winks at me now, and my stomach does a little bit of a flutter. He grabs my hand and twirls me around, pulling me back to him and dipping me at the end of the song.

  “Well played,” I tell him once I have my feet on the ground. He grabs my hand as we make our way back to the bar through the many people who stop and give us high fives. He waits for me to be behind the bar, then comes in and holds my hips to pass me by.

  I watch him clap his hands and then look at the girls who have been stuck on his side the whole night. He comes over now and grabs my hand, bringing me to his side of the bar. “These ladies want something different.”

  I smile at the girls. “Tell me what you like.” I ask them, and by the end, I’m making them a candy cane martini.

  “I knew there was a reason that I bought that vanilla vodka.” He grimaces. “I don’t think I’ve touched that bottle since I put it on the shelf.”

  “It would be better with crushed candy cane around the rim, but I’m not going to get picky,” I tell him with a smirk and then walk down the bar, filling two orders while I sing along to the songs.

  He would always find his way down the bar to work around me, giving me a soft touch here or a bump there. He had my senses working overdrive.

  He rang the bell at ten minutes to three, and I finally looked up and saw about twenty people left. I start cleaning up my side of the bar while Brett does his side, and ten minutes later, he’s holding the door open for everyone to leave. “That was crazy,” I say to him, looking around at the mess of the tables.