Free Down Home Carolina Christmas by Pamela Browning

“Come on, Tiff, you’re playing pool with us,” Whip said as he appropriated one arm, and Luke took the other to propel her toward the pool table in the back room.
    â€œWait a minute,” Tiffany said. “I’m hungry. Ham, ask if I could have fries with the burger, will you?” Ham headed back to the bar and engaged the bartender in conversation.
    â€œWe ate lunch only a couple of hours ago,” Whip said. He handed Tiffany a pool cue. “Plus, why would you go and put on weight that you sloughed off at that pricey health spa only a couple of weeks ago?”
    â€œA sliver of water chestnut on an arugula leaf,” Tiffany said. “That’s what they call lunch there. Next time I have to check in, I’m importing my own chef.”
    â€œUh-huh. I’m sure they’d allow that,” Whip said.
    Luke made a mental note to suggest to Whip that Tiffany’s personal trainer arrive as soon as possible. The woman was supposedly attending a funeral in Canada, but since when did a funeral take three weeks?
    Luke racked the balls while Tiffany chalked her cue. The game commenced with Tiffany fouling balls all over the place and both of them letting her get away with it. This went on for two games until Tiffany tossed her pool cue down. “I’m going home, and I’m taking a couple of butter burgers with me.”
    Whip, with a back-me-up glance at Luke, slung his arm around her shoulders and adopted a wheedling tone. “Tiffany, sweetie, stick to your diet, okay?”
    â€œThat’s right, Tiff,” Luke said seriously. “Do what Whip says.”
    â€œWhat is this ‘be a good girl’ stuff? Leave me alone,” Tiffany said, flouncing toward the door.
    â€œTiff,” Luke began, ready to suggest that he keep her company for the evening. Never mind, no sacrifice was too great, no difficulty was insurmountable, if it meant keeping Tiffany Zill on point as far as this movie was concerned.
    He wasn’t sure if she heard him. She kept walking, Ham shadowing her. At the door she almost bumped into a couple of women wearing sequined tube tops, who spared her a curious glance, then proceeded to sidle up to Luke and Whip as if they were long-lost buddies.
    â€œWe’ve got a problem with your costar,” Whip muttered, his gaze following Tiffany to the bar, where she stopped under a sign that said Order Takeout Here.
    â€œWe’ve got a worse problem than that,” Luke muttered back meaningfully as he removed one of the women’s hands from his shoulder. She was all over him, and she’d only just arrived.
    â€œMy name’s Rita,” she said to him, “and this is Modean. I’m not wearing underpants. Are you guys out for a little fun?” She winked at Luke.
    â€œNot tonight,” Luke said, the status of Rita’s underpants of no particular interest at the moment. He eyed Tiffany as she reached across the counter for a large brown bag holding, possibly, four or five butter burgers. Oh, and don’t forget the fries. “Should we do something about Tiff, Whip? Before she gets out the door?”
    â€œModean’s not wearing underpants, either,” Rita said helpfully.
    Whip ran a hand across the top of his head, whiffling the hair into spikes. “What am I supposed to do, grab that bag and run for it? Ole Ham won’t put up with any sabotage on our part. The man’s half Rottweiler. No, let Tiffany get away with something so she’ll stay in a good mood. Jules won’t put up with her pouting at rehearsal tomorrow.”
    Jules Trout was the director of Dangerous, and Whip was right. Jules brooked no slackers, and the last thing they needed was for him to refuse to work with Tiffany, thus precipitating a costly search for a new Mary-Lutie Goforth.
    Rita had now transferred her attentions to Whip and was caressing his shoulder. “How about a little back rub? Might make you