“Let’s get to work. With Sam here, we should be able to knock it out in a few hours.”
Five hours later, Dani collapses onto a barstool. “That was the longest few hours of my life.”
“I officially hate Christmas lights.” We spent almost three hours replacing bulbs, trying to get the strands of lights to work. I finally got pissed off, threw them in the trash, and bought new ones.
“Same,” Jamie says, sipping her hot cocoa.
“You just showed up an hour ago and didn’t even help.”
She shrugs and wipes whipped cream from her upper lip. “It was exhausting watching you guys. I’ll probably never touch a strand of lights again because of it.”
“I don’t know why you guys are crabbing. I’m the one who got on the ladder and risked my life to make this place a winter wonderland. Still don’t know why we need to decorate. It’s a bar, for crying out loud. No one here cares if we have mistletoe hanging in the doorway or garland wrapped around the stage.”
“I care,” Dani says.
Ben’s face goes all gooey with heart eyes, and how the hell does she not see that he’s crazy about her?
“That’s why I do it.” He kisses the side of her head. “Now get up. It’s dinner rush, and we need to help Crystal before she quits.”
Dani drags herself from the stool and gets to work, and I spin mine around so I can look at the tables, which are mostly full.
“Which one of these fine men would you like to take home tonight?” Jamie asks, sweeping arm as though to showcase the room.
“Hmm…” I tap a manicured nail against my chin. “That guy looks nice.”
Jamie follows my gaze toward the pool tables. “The one with the cowboy hat?”
“To the left of him.”
“He’s gay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I hit on him three weeks ago.”
“Okay.” I scan the room, looking for someone who isn’t a bazillion years older than me. “How about one of them?” I say, nodding toward a group of three men who walked in about twenty minutes ago. “The one with the backward baseball cap looks cute, but it’s hard to tell from here.”
Jamie swats my arm. “That’s Lucas Dahlenberg.”
“Shut. Up.” My jaw nearly hits the floor, and I scoot forward on my chair as though I’ll be able to see better. “That is not him.”
“Is too, but you might want to steer clear of him.”
“Why?”
“Word on the street is he’s getting over a bad breakup.”
“He does look a little broody.”
“Broody, but hot.”
“So hot,” I agree. “Gosh, I can’t believe that’s him. He used to be so…”
“Nerdy?”
“I was going to say quiet.”
“Yeah, well, nothing about him is nerdy these days.”