Free The Christmas Wish by Katy Regnery Page A

was a tattoo on her forehead only visible to the meanest, most idiotic men who passed through Gardiner that read in blaring, neon ink: AVAILABLE.
    She shouldn’t have dumped that pitcher of water over those three boys, but mercy, that was a mean trick. One of them had asked for her phone number only so he could compare it to the digits he’d gotten off the men’s room wall. As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, his friend had muttered “Slut” as they high-fived, snickering. Tess’s cheeks had burned and her body felt tingly from a sudden burst of adrenaline. She could cry or she could get mad. She had looked at the tray balanced in her left hand, and without thinking she yanked the full pitcher of icy water off the tray, drew back her arm and let loose, drenching all three men and yelling “Cool off!” before bee-lining to the loading dock.
    Goodness gracious, but men could be cruel. What would it be like to be treated—just for once—like a nice girl instead of a dirty joke?
    Sniffling and drying her eyes with the backs of her hands, she turned when she heard the kitchen door open behind her. She caught sight of Lucas Flynn before looking away. Great. Alone in the dark with an ex-con.
    She quickly chastised herself. That wasn’t fair. Some men were monsters, true, but Lucas Flynn had been nothing but polite to her since starting at the Blue Moon a few months back. Immune to her charms? Apparently. But nice enough. He didn’t deserve her unkind thoughts. Lord knew how she felt when unkindness was directed at her, and it sure happened often enough.
    “Heya,” she murmured, making outward amends for her internal meanness.
    He hung back, smelling of hamburgers and hot dogs and warmth.
    “I, uh, brought your jacket,” he said softly.
    She furrowed her brows, turning to face him. Because of the cold, she knew the tips of her breasts would be hard against her too-small uniform. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively, reaching out with one hand for her jacket.
    Instead of handing it to her, Lucas stepped closer, opening it up and encircling her shoulders, placing it gingerly around her. He tugged at the collar gently, pulling it snug around her neck and ears before stepping back.
    Tess stood speechless, touched beyond words for two simple reasons. The first? He hadn’t asked for anything in return. Not a kiss, not a touch, not a favor. And the second? His eyes hadn’t slid lower than her chin the entire time he wrapped her jacket around her. Not once. Not for an instant.
    She looked at his face, not for the first time but maybe for the first time this close up. He had brown eyes, warm and dark, with a fringe of dark eyelashes. His cheekbones were high, his cheeks angular hollows. His olive-toned skin wasn’t smooth and perfect, but his lips were. They were bowed and full, and Tess stared at them for a moment, biting her own bottom lip before lifting her eyes to his nose.
    His poor nose. Tess winced. Her second stepfather, a mean drunk prone to fights, had a nose like that. Lucas’s nose had been broken more than once.
    “Ugly,” he whispered, dropping his hands and turning away.
    “N-no,” she said softly, turning to him as he rested his elbows on the iron railing, staring out at the darkness. She wasn’t a small woman, but next to him, beside his tall, lean body, Tess felt small, and she liked that.
    “I know what I look like, Miss Branson.”
    Miss Branson. Miss Branson? If he didn’t stop being so nice to her, she’d start crying again. Or she’d have to kiss him.
    “Huh,” she murmured, putting her arms through her jacket and zipping it up before propping her elbows on the bar beside his. “Haven’t said a word to me in four months and now here you are, all…‘Miss Branson’ with me.”
    He stared up at the sky, running a finger back and forth across his lower lip, which pulled Tess’s eyes like a magnet. Her tongue darted out and she wet her lips.
    “Lots of stars here,” he