Saving Kylie

“Sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” Luellen, one of the other bartenders at Rough and Ready, continued polishing the bar with the zeal of a missionary. “It’s going to be crazy. Ziggy already bought the body paint.”

Kylie laughed and mopped up her own end of the bar. They’d just hit that midafternoon lull before all the diehards wandered in for happy hour—and beyond, considering it was New Year’s—and she was happy to be able to escape before the madness started. She’d worked more than a few New Year’s Eves in her day, and she didn’t mind missing one. The date she had planned with her couch and an action movie fest suited her just fine.

“Sorry, Lu, no can do. I already bought the steak and champagne for my solo feast at home tonight. I’m going to eat like a damn queen—” She broke off as she glanced up at the sound of the door opening. Not a rare event at a bar, but the man who crossed the threshold might as well have been a damn rockstar for the effect his presence had on her rocketing heart.

Justin searched the bar, his gaze drifting until it landed on her. She had a millisecond to shore up her hasty ponytail before he strode her way.

The chemical reaction between them was so potent Kylie wasn’t surprised Lu chuckled under her breath and shuffled off. What did surprise her was that the bar didn’t splinter from the heat of Justin’s stare.

It wasn’t the first time he’d come by since Thanksgiving. He’d visited several times, in fact, and he’d always spent a few moments shooting the breeze with her over his usual Harp. Their interactions had been friendly and easy, despite that mad fluttering thing that tended to happen in her belly whenever he was within shouting distance.

But the look on his face now… Well, there wasn’t anything merely friendly about it.

Before he could order, she was pulling his Harp. She set it in front of him and took an extra moment to straighten the coaster beneath his glass. “Happy New Year, Justin.”

He smiled and slid two brightly colored envelopes toward her. “Christmas and New Year’s,” he explained before taking the first sip. “I missed Christmas.”

Warmth spread under her breastbone as she thumbed open the first envelope. “It’s okay. I figured you were busy.”

In truth, she’d figured he’d moved on. Love was a fleeting, fickle bitch, and she didn’t often abide a vacuum.

Or holidays spent alone.

“I was out of town actually but not too busy. I just lost track of time, and I wanted to give them to you in person. The post office’s a racket.”

She giggled and tugged out the Christmas card. It was the typical Justin-style potty humor, complete with a reindeer with big fake breasts and light-up red bulbs where the nipples should be. The New Year’s card was more of the same.

They’d both be hung up in her apartment before the night was through.

“Thank you. I love them.” Going with impulse, she leaned across the bar and planted a kiss on his cheek. She mistakenly inhaled a whiff of his spicy soap and nearly purred. “I hope you had a nice Christmas,” she added as she slipped back.

“It wasn’t bad. I spent it with my aunt and uncle in Canton. It had been a few years since I’d seen them and…and you really don’t care about any of this, do you?”

“Of course I do.” She bobbed her head like the marionette she felt like she’d become.

His scruff was more pronounced, almost a short beard. And had he gained more muscles since she’d seen him last? His chest and stomach looked even more defined through his Henley shirt. Unless her hormone-addled brain was filling in details yet again.

His smile lit through her like a sparkler. “You’ve never been a good liar, Fish.”

“Busted.”

“So what do you care about, if not Christmases spent with the family?”

Something about the challenge in his blue eyes made her bold. Plus it was New Year’s Eve, a night meant for risks. Even so, she shouldn’t blur the lines. They’d done well for the last month, talking like friends and not pushing their luck. She’d found a therapist she thought she might like, and from what Justin had told her, he was seeing a counselor of his own. They hadn’t delved into any of that, because casual pals wouldn’t.

But former lovers who happened to be in lo—to have feelings for each other should. Absolutely.

And if they made a farking mess of the whole thing? She had her steak and champagne.

She wet her lips, flexing her flirt muscle. Amazing how quickly the damn thing got lax. “You got a date for tonight, Norton?”

He sipped, taking his slow time answering. She tapped her fingers on the bar in a clear “hurry it up” gesture, and he still didn’t rush through his beer. “Funny you should ask that,” he drawled, a slow smile overtaking his face. “Since I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

Oh, thank God.

She tossed her rag on the bar and pulled up the walkthrough, making him laugh at her haste. “I’m officially off the clock.”

“Is that so?”