Whiskey Holiday

by Crystal Daniels

  "Your momma will appreciate the help," Dad says.

  "I thought mom was coming with you." I chop more onions.

  "She wanted to do a little Christmas shopping at Mistletoe marketplace. You know she likes supporting local businesses. That, and she's had her eye on some new snow globes Tracie had on display the other day." Dad helps himself to the coffee.

  There's a pause of silence as I mill about the kitchen. "Thanks for driving out here, Dad." I taste the chili and then add a little extra dash of salt and pepper before placing the lid on top of the stew pot and turning the burner down to simmer.

  "Just taking care of my baby girl," Dad says, and I smile. "Now, where are the keys?" he asks.

  "Hanging on the hook over there above the potato bin," I tell him.

  Ten minutes later, I've bundled up again and walking out the front door. My dad is under the hood of my old red 67 Chevy. I love the old truck. My grandad gave it to me before he passed away two Christmases ago.

  I wrap my arms around myself as the winds gust. "Drop the truck off by your brother's shop tomorrow on your way to work and have him change the oil and put a new carburetor filter on," Dad says as he tightens the cable wire bolt. Wiping his hand on a bandana, he steps back and closes the hood. "Oh," Dad reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a white business card. "I've heard about this new construction company in town and that they specialize in restoration projects." He hands me the card, and I pluck it from his gloved fingers. "Give them a call, but make sure you get an estimate beforehand. I don't want to have to bust some heads if someone tries to take advantage of my baby girl."

  "Daddy. I'm smarter than that." I stare down at the card and run my thumb across the raised lettering, smiling because the colors are gold and green—Christmassy.

  T & N Restoration.

  "I know you are," he says as I walk with my dad to his truck. He turns to face me. "I'm proud of you, Winter." My dad pulls me in for a hug.

  "Thank you, Daddy. I'm pretty proud of myself too."

  "As you should be." He pulls back. "Give that number a call. Also, I told Greg you were having trouble with the furnace. He'll be by first thing tomorrow morning to check it out."

  "Thanks again, Daddy." I slip the business card into my coat pocket. "I love you." I kiss his cheek before he climbs behind the steering wheel of his truck.

  "I love you too, kid." He closes the truck door, and I watch him pull away before retreating inside.

  While dinner cooks on the stovetop, I decide to go upstairs for a long soak in the tub. As the claw tub fills with warm water, I remove my clothes and let loose the braid in my hair, only to pile it in a messy bun at the top of my head. Lighting a lavender candle, I sit it on a small table nearby beside my cell phone before slowly sinking into the water beneath the bubbles. "Thank God the water heater still works," I say out loud. Closing my eyes, I soak in the warmth from the water and relax.

  I hear the bell on Mr. Jingles' collar as he enters the bathroom. I open my eyes to see him perched on top of the toilet lid, staring at me. He meows. "We survived our first week alone in a brand-new home. What do you think about that, Mr. Jingles?" He blinks before lifting his back leg and licks where his balls once were. "That bad?" I humph. "You're just mad that you've been forced to diet since you no longer have an endless supply of kitty treats and catnip at your disposal," I tell Mr. Jingles, who's the most spoiled fattest cat in town because of my mom and dad. My parents' excuse for spoiling him? Because they have no grandbabies to spoil yet. Honestly, I'm surprised my brother Nick hasn't fulfilled their dreams of grandparent status with the way he spreads his Christmas cheer around town. He's the smooth-talking, tattooed, Harley-riding mechanic of Mistletoe and all the ladies in town trip over their feet for him.

  I look around the bathroom, taking in the shellac, and exposed pipes in the walls where pieces are missing. A shriek leaves my mouth the moment two beady eyes look at me from the hole in the wall. "Jesus." I flick the bathwater and suds across the room, trying to shoo it away. Another thing that came with the property—a mice problem. Just another thing to check off my list of people to call. I glance at Mr. Jingles, who hasn't budged. "A whole lot of good you are. Aren't mice supposed to be your natural enemy?" Mr. Jingle yawns, jumps to the floor, and stretches out on the shaggy bathroom rug, utterly uninterested in anything I have to say.

  HOURS LATER, the sun is setting, and I'm heading to work after dropping off a pot of chili at my parents' home on the other side of Mistletoe. I turn my truck down Main Street.

  Everything is illuminated in a warm glow as I drive beneath the canopy of twinkling lights. There is pine garland wrapped around every light pole. Red, green, and gold decorations adorn storefront windows, all of which have different Christmas themes that tell a story of Christmases past.

  Christmas is Mistletoe—Mistletoe is Christmas. I don't know any other way to put it. Our quaint little town looks like a Hallmark movie 365 days a year. We're a tourist town, attracting thousands of visitors every year, especially during December. I've lived here my entire life. So have my parents and my grandparents before them.

  At the end of the street, I park my truck in front of Whiskey Holiday. Our family-owned tavern. I haven't changed one thing about the building since my grandad passed. Built to look like an old log cabin, it gives the bar its signature charm of an old country Christmas. Climbing out of my truck, I toss my bag over my shoulder. The warmth from the massive fireplace hugs my body as I step through the front door. It's, without a doubt, my favorite feature here. The amber light from the fire casts dancing shadows on the walls as the flames flicker. The air smells of cinnamon and cinder. The exposed beams above my head add to the rustic décor. Beside the fireplace sits a massive Douglas fir, decorated with old-world glass ornaments and bubble lights.

  "Hey," Brinkley greets me.

  "Hey. Listen, thanks again for coming in a bit early."

  Brinkley waves me off. "Don't worry about it. You did me a favor. My mom was trying to set me up with Mrs. Tammy's nephew from Wyoming."

  I laugh. "The one that looks like cousin Eddie from that movie Christmas vacation?" Walking behind the bar, I sit my bag down and grab a couple of wine glasses. Like always before we open, I pour my friend and me a drink.

  "Oh, before I forget." Brinkley digs through her bag, then hands me the same business card my dad gave me this morning. "You know the restoration Molly had done to the wedding venue down on her farm?" I take a sip of my red wine and nod. "T & N Restoration did all the work. Can you believe they shipped in reclaimed wood from a one-hundred-year-old barn from Connecticut?" Brinkley takes a drink. "Anyway. Knowing you need some home repairs done, she gave me their business card to pass on to you." For the second time today, I look down at the card in my hand. T & N Restoration. They sure are making a name for themselves in our small town.

  What the hell. So far, two people I trust have recommended their services. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone and tap the numbers out on the screen.

  TANNON

  It's getting late, and just when I am about to call it a day, the phone on my desk rings. Picking it up, I answer, "T&N Restoration."

  The only thing I hear on the other end of the line is a sharp gasp. I wait a moment for the person to respond. When they don't, I speak again. "Hello. Did I lose you?"

  "Um, hello?" an angelic voice rasps in my ear, and I feel as if someone pulled the rug from under my feet, and I swear time stands still. Shaking off the strange effect the stranger is having on me, I ask, "Can I help you, Miss…" I wait for her to provide me with a name.

  "Holiday," she supplies.

  I smile at her last name. "How may I help you, Miss Holiday?"

  "Yes." She clears her throat. "I was given your business card earlier today. I've heard you are the best in your line of work. Anyway, I just bought this house, and I need some work done on it. Well, a lot of work actually," the woman with the sweetest voice I have ever heard chuckles.
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  "What kind of work are you wanting?" I ask.

  "Well, I'm not quite sure. It's a rather old house, and I mostly want to restore the original structure. I'm not interested in making it too modern."

  Already feeling interested in the potential new client's house, I sit up a little straighter. I love older homes. They have character. I love everything about restoring the original vision and making it new again.

  "Okay. Is there a time I can swing by the house and take a look before going over the ideas you have in mind?"

  "Sure. That would be great. How about tomorrow morning?"

  "Tomorrow morning works for me. What is the address?" I ask, and Miss Holiday rattles off some numbers and the street name while I jot them down. "Alright, Miss Holiday, I'll see you then."

  "Thank you, Mr…" This time she waits for me to give her a name.

  "Christmas," I tell her, and I can hear the smile in her voice when she repeats my name.

  "Thank you, Mr. Christmas. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Hanging up the phone, I rest my elbows on the desk as I try to make sense of why I feel a sudden sense of loss wash over me when our brief conversation ends.

  "Tannon?" I hear my name called, and look up to see Nash standing in front of my desk. I must have been in a daze because I didn't even see him come into my office.

  "You okay, man? I called your name several times. It's like you had checked out," Nash asks with concern.

  "I'm good. Must have been daydreaming or some shit. Long day, you know." I stand and grab my coat from the back of the chair. Duke rises from his bed in the corner and makes his way to my side.

  Nash blows out a breath. "I hear you. What are your plans for tonight? I was about to head down to Whiskey Holiday for a drink. Do you want to grab a beer with me?"

  Whiskey Holiday is the local watering hole and a staple in Mistletoe. I have been here months and yet to step foot in the establishment. "You know what, man? A beer sounds good."

  Ten minutes later, Nash and I are walking into Whiskey Holiday. The heat from the massive stone fireplace wraps around me like a warm blanket. The aromatics in the air: oak, cinnamon, and the smell of the logs burning are inviting, like coming home. Amber lighting, along with colored Christmas lights, set an inviting and relaxed mood, and stress from a long workday leaves my body. Plush couches and leather chairs for seating are spaced perfectly about the large open space. Above my head, I take in the exposed wood ceiling beams.

  A waitress carrying a tray spots us and nods toward an empty table in the back corner of the room. "I'll be right with you guys," she tells us.

  Duke follows behind as we make our way to the table. The temperature is too cold outside to leave him in the truck, and one of the things I love about this town is most businesses don't mind Duke all that much. Where I go, he goes.

  "This place is impressive," I comment as I slip my coat off and take a seat. Duke situates himself under the edge of the table out of the way of foot traffic.

  "It is. Winter has outdone herself with it. The tourists love it too. Especially her signature drinks." Nash points to the drink menu lying beside me. Picking it up, I scan it. Christmas Snowstorm Margarita, Holly Jolly Christmas Citrus Cocktail, Candy Cane Vodka Cocktail, Jack Frost Cocktail, Mistletoe Margaritas, White Christmas Martini, the list goes on. "Who did you say owned the place?

  "Winter. You'll probably find her behind the bar. She works most nights." Nash jerks his chin and gestures over his shoulder toward the bar. I look in the direction, but all I see is a glimpse of blonde hair peeking over the top of the heads of the people sitting at the bar—our waitress steps in my line of sight.

  "Hey, Nash."

  Nash gives the waitress a friendly smile. "How's it going, Mel?"

  "It's going. This place is keeping me on my toes tonight."

  "I can see that. You know how it is around here the closer we get to Christmas," Nash remarks.

  "Yeah. Busy is good though, so I'm not going to complain."

  Nash looks at me. "Mel, this is my friend and business partner, Tannon. Tannon, this is Melanie. We grew up in Mistletoe together and went to the same high school."

  I tip my head. "Good to meet you."

  "Same," Melanie smiles. "So, do you two know what you'd like?

  "I'll have whatever beer is on tap," I tell her.

  "I'll take the same," Nash says.

  "No problem, guys. I'll have your drinks for you in no time."

  My eyes follow Melanie across the room. The moment she steps up to the bar, two patrons slip off their stools, giving me my first glimpse of the blonde behind the counter. When I lay eyes on her, time stops. As if a magnetic force is bringing us together, the blonde looks up. Her eyes lock on mine. Suddenly, the world around me ceases to exist, and we are the only two people in the room. My heart is about to beat out of my chest. Fuck! A woman has never had this kind of effect on me.

  I have to make this woman mine.

  "Tannon, are you okay?" Nash asks.

  Ignoring his question, I stand. "I'll be right back." I don't offer Nash an explanation for my sudden departure. My only focus is to get to my woman. My woman? Where the hell did that come from.

  My blonde beauty keeps her eyes on me as I make my way through the crowd and up to the bar, where I take one of the vacant stools and get a close up look of the woman who will be going home with me tonight.

  She stands at around 5 feet 3 inches tall and has honey blonde hair currently hanging in waves over her shoulders. She also has the most stunning green eyes I have ever seen. My mouth waters as I take in the curves of her body. Curves, I can't wait to get my hands on. My hands will be all over that delectable body later.

  "Hello," she says, her voice sounding familiar.

  "Hi," I return. My blonde beauty smiles, making my dick jump behind the zipper of my jeans.

  "What can I get you?"

  "Your name," I respond, making her face turn as red as the sweater she is wearing.

  "Winter."

  "I'm Tannon." I reach across the bar and offer my hand. I'm pleased as fuck when Winter doesn't hesitate to place her small delicate hand in mine. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through my fingertips and up my arm. Shocked by the reaction, my eyes dart up to hers. Judging by the look on Winter's face, there is no doubt she felt it too.

  "What time do you get off, Winter?"

  I watch as Winter's chest rises and falls with her rapid breathing, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the effect I'm having on her. I see the gears turning in her head as she contemplates whether she will take the plunge with a stranger. I can tell right away one-night stands are not something Winter does. The battle is evident in her eyes as she nibbles her bottom lip.

  "I normally get off at two, but I think I can get Danny to close for me tonight." Winter licks her bottom lip, and I growl.

  "That sounds like a hell of a plan."

  Winter's breath hitches at the sound of my voice. "I'll… I'll be right back," she stumbles over her words, and I watch her curvy ass as she turns and makes her way toward a man serving drinks at the other end of the bar. Keeping her in my sights, I watch Winter tap the man on his shoulder. The guy, who I assume is Danny, turns and smiles at my woman. I'm not too fond of it. The thought of any man smiling at her has my ass coming off the stool. Gritting my teeth, I lower myself back down and wait. Why do I feel so possessive over a woman I just met? As fucked as it may seem, it also feels right.

  Snapping myself from my conflicting thoughts, I bring my full attention back to Winter, who retrieves her purse from under the bar and places it on her shoulder after talking to Danny. She stops briefly to talk to a slender brunette, whose eyes cut in my direction. She smirks.

  Shit.

  Winter is wasting no time. Locking eyes with me once again, she steps out from behind the bar and saunters my way. I stand from the stool and take her hand in mine once she is within arms reach. "Ready to get out of here before I cha
nge my mind?" Winter says as she accepts my touch and I lead us out of Whiskey Holiday. I don't bother saying goodbye to Nash either, but I don't miss the smirk on his face when I look his way and whistle for Duke to follow.

  "Is that your dog?" Winter asks when we step up to the passenger side of my truck.

  "Yes. His name is Duke." I open the door, and without thinking, I pick Winter up and place her onto the passenger seat. Her breath hitches when I reach across her body and buckle her in. My eyes travel from those intense green orbs of hers down to her full pouty lips. I want to kiss her so badly, but I know once my mouth is on hers, I will lose all control. Besides, the parking lot in front of prying eyes is not the place for that.

  "Fuck it," I grind out just before I grip the back of her neck and bring my mouth crashing down on hers. Running my tongue across the seam of her lips, I coax her to open for me. When she does, I delve inside her sweet tasting mouth, taking what I want. Winter tastes of peppermint, and it's addicting. After several seconds I force myself to break our connection, and my dick jumps in protest. "I bet your pussy tastes just as sweet as your mouth." I nip at her lip. "As soon as I get you in my bed, I'm going to find out." With that, I shut the passenger door, leaving Winter looking hungry and dizzy.

  Fifteen minutes later, I'm pulling my truck to a stop in the driveway in front of my house. The ride home was silent torture and the air between us is thick with lust. The moment I cut the truck's engine, I'm out the door and making my way to the passenger side where Winter is already halfway out. "Next time, you wait for me to open your door."

  She scrunches her nose. "Why? I'm more than capable of opening my door."

  "Not when you're with me. From now on, that is my job." I don't wait for a response. Taking her hand in mine again, I tug her toward the house. Winter lets out a giggle at my eagerness to get her inside. Finally, we reach the front door. With my key already in hand, I quickly work the lock. In three seconds flat, I have the two of us inside, and Winter's back pressed against the closed door and my mouth on hers. In a frenzy, we both tear at each other's clothes in a race to get them off. "Arms up," I order, gripping the hem of her sweater. Winter raises her arms above her head, and a growl rumbles deep inside my chest at the sight of her green lace bra with her rosy nipples peeking through, begging for attention. "Take it out," I growl.