Free Snow Flakes (Burnt Ashes #0.5) by K.E Taylor Page A

starts to whine. She is sitting against the workbench with her chest pushed out to try and snag his attention.
    Sam looks back at her and, with a sultry grin, says, “Tell you what, darlin’. Give me ten minutes, then we can go and play as much as you—”
    “What? You think this silly band is more important than me?” she says, defiantly. She parts her lips, then slowly and sensuously moves her hand down her body until it rests on her hip.  
    “You should’ve picked me, sweetheart,” Trey says. He is slowly sobering up. His face is almost tinged green. The car ride over was hard on him with all that liquor sloshing around in his gut. “If you had, we would’ve left already.” The blonde, whose name has yet to be uttered, entirely ignores Trey, keeping her gaze on Sam.
    “Sam, get her out of here,” Logan snaps. He flips his guitar over his shoulder, the strap the only thing stopping it from smashing into a heap on the floor.
    “Why would I do that, man?” Sam says as Logan starts toward the blonde.
    “One…”
    “All right! All right! Sheesh!” Sam is up and off. It is never a good sign when Logan starts to count because something in the poor guy never lets him get to three. I think it’s because he was never hugged enough as a child or something.
    “So, uh…what were you going to do to her?” I ask Logan, keeping the camera on him.
    “Nothing she wouldn’t have wanted,” he says with a wink.
    Of course. Logan Dale, slayer of panties.
    “I don’t think she is into dudes with hair,” I counter, making Logan laugh.
    “That’s fine. She wouldn’t have had to be looking at me to get what she wanted.”
    “Logan…,” Braden chimes in.
    Logan lets out a little laugh, and I join in. He is such a dog. Fucking terrible wingman, though. It never fails. When you’re out with him, you end up with the chick you like rubbing up against Logan; meanwhile, you’re stuck in the terrifying friend zone.
    Oh, you want me to hold your handbag while Logan drives you into a mattress? Sure… Of course… That’s fine…
    “Chace…?” Braden says. “Are you all right, man? You keep staring into space.” I blink a couple of times, then nod my head.
    “He’s probably thinking of Downtown Abbey again,” Logan adds. Braden lets out an appreciative snort.
    “I am not… Okay, well, now I am.” Logan shakes his head, as he opens a bottle of water and starts downing its contents. “I watch one episode, and suddenly I’m what? The world’s biggest fan?”
    “Chace…,” Braden says again, letting out a bewildered sigh.
    Sam comes back in, stomping his heavy boots across the hard concrete floor. “Well…,” Sam growls, “she won’t be back for a while.”
    He turns to pick up a half-empty bottle, swills it twice, then downs the rest. It’s only when he puts the bottle down that I notice the red welt on his jawline. Looks like the blondie was a hitter. Poor Sam. He could never seem to attract anyone boring…or normal. Trey notices the mark and starts to laugh, pauses to burp, then clumsily walks over to Sam, puts one hand on his shoulder and says, “Blondes are always fun, eh?”
    “All right, guys. That’s enough. We have a show at The Drake tomorrow night. If it goes well, the promoter says we could get a regular slot, so what do you say we sober up and concentrate?” Braden says.
    “Aye, aye, Cap’n Ahab, sirrrrrr.” Trey, it seems, isn’t quite sober yet.
    “Somebody put some coffee in him before I do it,” Logan says wryly.
    “Come on, Trey,” I say. “Let’s get you sober before Logan makes you drink another bottle of mayo.” The memories of that night surface, and I try to push them down before my stomach turns. It was so rancid. I used to like eating fries with mayo, but after last time… I don’t even want to think about it.

Christmas meant a lot to me when I was younger. Memories of being in my pyjamas, hanging the decorations; loading the tree with threaded popcorn, which