Free Sleeping With Santa by Debra Druzy Page B

seemed to know where she was going, quickly cutting between cliques, maneuvering through the throng. He kept their fingers laced, not letting her slip away.
    He hadn’t been inside a tavern in years, but the layered odors were the same. Stagnant cigarettes and stale beer mingled with the garden variety of heavy perfume and potent cologne. However, this place had the hint of something more pleasant, like burning trees.
    Claiming a vacant table for two next to a wood burning stove built into a brick wall, she let him pick sides. He slid into the booth with his back to the wall facing the mob. She sat across the lacquered tabletop, staring at him, making him self-conscious.
    “Well?” Her green eyes glowed.
    “You come here often?” It wasn’t supposed to sound like a line, but it did.
    She shook her head. “I haven’t been here in a while. But this is still the best seat in the house.”
    “What’ll ya have?” he asked before the waitress appeared.
    “Hmm?” She sighed thoughtfully and sat back, stripping off her hat and coat, adjusting her baggie sweatshirt. “A scotch.” She wrinkled her button nose. “And a cherry soda on the side.”
    “Scotch, huh? Wow.” He expected her to order champagne since she bought it by the caseload. “I’ll have a seltzer.”
    “That’s it—really? If I knew you weren’t drinking I woulda just ordered the soda.”
    “It’s okay. You can order whatever you like.”
    The waitress returned in a jiffy, and Nick paid on the spot, not bothering to open a tab.
    “I don’t like it.” Lily took a taste of the amber liquid in the short glass and winced. “I’m only drinking it to get warm.”
    “That’ll do the trick.”
    “Want a sip?” She pushed it toward him.
    “No, thanks.”
    “You’ll put your tongue in my mouth, but you won’t drink from my glass. Go on, take a sip.”
    He slid it back. “No. It’s not that at all. I’m…cutting back,” he said, treading carefully into the dark depths of his unflattering past.
    Cutting him a suspicious look, she sipped her scotch in small medicinal increments, scrunching her face with every taste. “God, this stuff is gross. I dunno how people drink it for fun.”
    “I know. I used to be a big drinker.” He cringed as he let the bones of one of his ugly skeletons out of the closet, waiting for her to bolt straight for the front door.
    But, surprisingly, she stayed.
    “So, you don’t drink any more—at all?” She sounded concerned.
    Nick shook his head. “It was getting too hard to handle. I knew if I didn’t get hold of it, I’d be dead or a lifetime lush.” He sighed, liberated now that he released the big guilt-laden secret.
    “Sorry, we can leave…”
    “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. Trust me. I’m over it. I know my limitations. I can be around drinkers and not wanna drink.” He exaggerated his willpower.
    “You sure?”
    “I wouldn’t have come in otherwise.”
    She slammed what was left in the glass and said, “Well. I’m finished, so we can go.”
    “Warm yet?”
    “Yes. Hot, actually.”
    “Takes the edge off, doesn’t it?”
    “Sure does.” The sharpness in her glassy eyes seemed to melt away, her invisible protective armor fading fast.
    “Enough to wanna talk?”
    “If you don’t mind me having one more, I just might tell you anything you want to hear.”
    Nick flagged the waitress. “Make it a double.”
    “So, how do you want it?” She looked at him lopsided. “Quick and dirty? Or slow and painful?”
    “Huh?” His head nearly exploded. “You changed gears without me—are you talking about?”
    “Sex?” She giggled. “Nooo. I mean my story.”
    He checked his wristwatch in jest. “Hmm, I have plenty of time. The only place I need to be is in line at Violet’s in nine hours.”
    “You’re sure you really want to hear it?” Her softening gaze washed over him.
    Nick felt the warmth in her eyes, but longed to know the heated history inside her head. Playing it