Free The Christmas Wish by Katy Regnery

THE CHRISTMAS WISH
    Lucas Flynn looked up as Tess Branson stormed into the kitchen of the Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon holding an empty water pitcher. Without stopping, she slammed the pitcher down on the metal counter under the heating lamps then continued through the kitchen and out the back door. He could hear loud cursing and guffawing coming from the western-themed dining room. The Blue Moon, located in Gardiner, Montana, marketed itself as “The Best Chow North of Yellowstone.” With the rudest customers.
    It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. He’d seen this happen before. Peeking through the order-up window, he saw three idiots in the corner under the moose head strung with winking Christmas lights sporting varying degrees of wet hair and clothes. They looked like a trio of asshole frat guys. The café’s two other waitresses, Starla and Rose, hovered over them with extra napkins, and Stu offered drinks on the house.
    Lucas rolled his eyes. God only knew what the trio had said. From what he’d observed, it took a lot—a ridiculous amount of mean-spirited teasing and outright abuse—to get a rise out of Tess. Since taking the job as short-order cook at Stu’s Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon after he was paroled in September Lucas had kept his head down and his opinions to himself. He wasn’t interested in getting into any trouble, and he certainly wasn’t aiming for any more time inside. But his lip curled as he wondered about the three guys. What had they said to upset Tess so much?
    He looked over to make sure Del, the head cook, had his back turned, then glanced down at the grill where their burgers sizzled. Bringing the spatula close to his lips, he gathered a good bit of saliva on his tongue and quietly spat on it. He rubbed each of the burgers with a little clear goop before flipping them.
    He flicked his glance toward the outside door, wondering when Tess was coming back. It was cold and dark out and she wasn’t wearing a coat. Wasn’t wearing anything but that obscene joke of a waitress uniform. He knew full well the excuse Stu gave her was bullshit. Stu could’ve gotten her one that fit better as she requested, but the dirty old bastard liked the way it strained over her chest, just like all the other asshole patrons who treated her like dirt. It made Lucas shake his head with disgust.
    He was grateful that businesses like Stu’s restaurant participated in the prison release program, giving jobs to guys like him who’d done their time and come out with a good behavior record, but all things considered Stu was kind of a douche bag. Tess Branson didn’t deserve to be treated like garbage. There were plenty of people he’d met that did deserve it, but not her. And yeah, he got the picture. He knew her reputation wasn’t lily white. Heck, from what he could gather it was probably closer to a dark gray. But Lucas Flynn didn’t care if Tess had bedded half the town. It didn’t change the fact that she was one of the prettiest, nicest people he’d ever met.
    He took toasted buns off the grill and slid the extra-special hamburgers off the griddle. He added lettuce and tomato on the side, and three large handfuls of chips to the plates before ringing the call-bell for Rose. “Order up. Twelve.”
    Using the spatula to scrape the tidbits into the front bin, Lucas turned to Del. “Okay if I take my fifteen minutes now, sir?” he asked.
    “Been more’n three months, Flynn. Don’t gotta call me sir.”
    “Yes, sir.” He rubbed his forehead, giving the large Native American cook a lopsided smile. “Old habits… Del.”
    Del looked at the back door, then back at Lucas, raising one eyebrow. “Think with your head,” he cautioned, glancing at Lucas’s crotch meaningfully with big, brown, world-weary eyes.
    “Yes, s—Del. Good advice.”
    Del shrugged, tilting his head toward the back door. “Have at it.”
    Lucas grabbed Tess’s jacket before slipping outside.
    ***
    Tess Branson was sure there