Ho Ho Hennessy

All the men in the car looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Isn’t it your best, too?” With happiness bubbling in her chest, she expected the same response from him.

“I think my front tooth is loose, my ribs hurt like a motherfucker, and I haven’t slept in forty-eight hours. What’s so great about it?”

Arin didn’t let Hennessy’s grumpiness get to her. Her grinch always had a sour disposition when he was in pain. She almost reminded him about that man card he loved to brag about in his wallet but thought she’d wait until they we’re actually in Ohio.

“You’ll feel better when we get home and I kiss you under the mistletoe.”

“Fuck mistletoe. Screw jingle bells. And all this ‘ho ho ho’ shit can kiss my ass!”

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. “Here, have a shot of Hennessy, brother.”

“It’s okay, big daddy.” She patted Hennessy’s cheek. “There’s always next year.”

Hennessy shot her a hot look, finding his man card again. “Now, that’s a nickname I can live with.”