Jennifer Snow - The Trouble with Mistletoe

“You usually close at one,” Darren said.

“Josh and David have a dentist appointment in the city first thing tomorrow morning, so I’m kicking you out early.”

“Okay, Mel. No problem. I guess I’m the winner here tonight.” Luke shrugged and folded the bills.

“Not so fast.” Victoria stood. “How much you got there?”

Luke’s face lit up with amusement. “You? You think you can tear yourself away from your laptop long enough?”

“I asked how much you’ve got there.”

Luke flipped through the bills. “Two hundred and eighty,” he said, studying her face as she bit a thumbnail.

She dropped her hand. “Double or nothing.”

He smirked. “You’re serious? You think you can beat me?”

“Without a doubt,” Victoria said confidently, moving closer to stand just inches from him. Defiantly, she stared him down.

She was even feistier than he remembered. Well, he had no problem taking her money, too. “You’re on.” He picked up her glass and drained it, then began choking and sputtering. “That’s disgusting. What was that? Cough syrup and vodka?”

“Red Bull and vodka.” Victoria grabbed the pool stick out of his hand and sauntered toward the table in the corner.

“You do know that stuff can kill you, right?” Luke said, taking the empty energy drink can from where Melody had left it on the bar and following her.

The others followed.

Jim grinned. “This is going to be good.”

Darren nodded.

“It actually says right on the label—Do Not Mix with Alcohol.” Luke held the can in front of Victoria and pointed to the fine-print metallic ink.

Victoria squinted. “It does not.” She pushed the can aside.

Luke was relentless. “It does.”

“Are we playing pool or not?”

Luke set the can down. Had she been fine-tuning her eight ball skills in New York all this time? Pulling the rack out from under the table, he flipped it and tossed it to her. “Rack ’em.”

Victoria caught it with one hand and busied herself collecting the faded, chipped, stray balls from the pockets. She leaned forward and arranged them inside the triangle. Her wavy blond hair fell over her shoulder and glistened in the light of the pool table. His gaze fell to her lips.

When she moved back, a dangling object above her head caught his eye. “Hey, Vic, look up,” he said. Mistletoe was quickly becoming his favorite Christmas tradition.

Victoria paused and glanced toward the pool table light overhead and the thin, very old and worn piece of mistletoe hanging from the edge of the lampshade. She reached up and yanked it free, crumbling the brittle leaves as Luke approached. “Oh, no. You’re not getting me that way again.” She straightened and pointed a finger at him as he moved closer.

He lowered his head, enjoying the panic in her green eyes. “Don’t even think about it, Luke.” The words were strained and he heard her breath catch deep in her chest.

Luke moved his lips to the side of her face, against her flushed cheeks. Placing a hand on her waist, he drew her closer. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you,” he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened. “You’re not… I mean, good,” she said, evidently flustered.

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