Christmas Crush

Authors: S.C. Wynne

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

ISBN: 978-1-77130-671-3

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Avril
Ashton

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.

No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This little Christmas story is for all the bookworms
out there waiting for their soul mates.

CHRISTMAS
CRUSH

Romance on the Go
TM

S.C.
Wynne

This place was so not me. The bass from the music boomed
loud enough I feared my ear drums were bleeding. How the hell I let myself get
talked into a blind date was beyond me. Yet here I sat, stuck at The Fuzzy
Palace on Christmas Eve for at least another half hour. Maybe I’d get lucky and
he wouldn’t show up.

I caught my reflection in the beveled mirrors
surrounding the dance floor. Jesus, I looked like a scared rabbit. I’d let
Grace talk me into using product in my hair, and I almost didn’t recognize my
spiky blond reflection. And I appeared over dressed for this place. My white
button down and khaki pants made me look like I sold office supplies.

The mass of sweaty guys grinding against each other
on the dance floor didn’t seem to notice me. I sipped my gin and tonic, huddled
on my bar stool, and hoped no one spoke to me. That way I’d be able to leave
and go back to my safe apartment. I wish I’d never abandoned my books, and
movies for this mind-numbing nonsense.

I made the mistake of looking up. A slender guy, mid-twenties,
watched me with eyes glittering black in the pulsing light. He looked like a
model in a form-fitting double breasted red hoodie, and dark slim jeans. He had
razor cut, straight, jet black hair. It struck me he looked like an anime
character. My sister Grace loved that crap. If he wasn’t in a gay bar scoping
me out, maybe I’d have introduced them.

He was popular. Every few minutes, guys stopped and
chatted
him up. He smiled and talked with them, but stayed
put. Drinks piled up in front of him, courtesy of all the horny guys looking
for a Christmas lay.

I squinted toward the entrance, the glare of the
neon lights hurting my eyes.
Please don’t
let him show, please. I just want to get the hell out of here.

Somebody bumped into me, spilling half my drink down
my pant leg. I grabbed a handful of napkins and jabbed at the spreading stain.
I scowled at the big lumbering moron who’d run into me.

“Sorry, dude.”
He patted me on the back.

“It’s fine.”
What could I say? He was huge.

“Let me buy you another.”

“No, thank you.”

He leaned in
only inches from my face. His breath smelled one hundred
proof
and I leaned away, trying to breathe out of the side of my mouth.

“Hey, you’re kind of cute.”

A flush heated my cheeks. “Thank you, I guess?”

“Pretty eyes.”

Fuck.
What was I, an exhibit?

“Just the eyes I was born with.” I tried my best to
look anywhere but directly at him.

He let out a loud guffaw, and I winced.

“Funny and cute.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to risk being
funny again. I studied the dance floor, trying to appear disinterested in my
new friend so he’d go away. He didn’t.

“You want to go out back and have a little fun?” He
made crude thrusting motions with his hips.

Oh
God, no.
That
was in my head. Out loud I tried to be more tactful.
“No, thank you.”

“Hey, buddy, look at me.”

I did as he
requested. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to see. He had brown, bloodshot
eyes, a large fleshy nose, and thin lips. His shaved
head,
and little black goatee gave him the appearance of what I assumed the devil
looked like. He wore a yellow tank top, and both meaty arms were covered with
tattoos. To say he wasn’t my type would be an understatement.

“You seem a little snooty,” he said, sounding
irritated.

I had a hard
time getting my head around the fact that this giant man, surrounded by a room
full of panting, eager bodies, decided to zero in on me. I was the one guy in
the room who didn’t want to be here, and this lumberjack stumbled onto
me
. Grace was dead meat next time I saw
her.

I pointed toward my neck, and whispered, “Sore
throat.”

“Blowing too many guys?” He guffawed again, slapping
me on the back.

I did my best to look like I found him hysterical. I
felt a little hysterical myself at this point. Over his beefy shoulder, I locked
eyes with my anime model friend. He looked amused. That must be nice for him.

“You don’t look sick.”

“It comes and goes,” I said.

“I’m Brett,” he said.

Tattoo guy shoved his hand in mine as I struggled to
not look surprised. His name was Brett? I’d assumed Bubba or Johnny Snake Eyes
maybe.

“Peter.” I felt like a toy on the end of a kid’s arm
as he shook my hand. Anime guy still watched from the safety of his perch.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“It’s my first time.” I regretted my choice of words
the minute they left my lips.

“Oh my, a virgin.”
Brett
leered.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m meeting
someone here.”

Brett made a production of looking for someone. He
peered under the bar, and under my stool. It was all very hilarious. Well, to
Brett at least. I managed a polite smile. I prayed the jerk I was supposed to
meet showed up so I’d get away from Brett.

“I don’t see anyone but us, dude.” He wiggled his
eyebrows, and clamped his hand down on my arm.

“He’s late,
but I’m sure he’ll show.” I tried pulling my arm free without making a scene.

This was the part of the evening where I figured out
Brett wasn’t a very nice guy. His grip became painful, and he shoved his face
near mine. The pounding music, and his bad breath, all felt pretty surreal. Did
he really think he could strong arm me out of here into the back alley, and I’d
want to fuck or blow him?

“Brett, how
about you let go of my friend?”

I turned. Anime guy stood next to us. He was taller
than I’d realized, and beautiful up close. His hair looked silky, his skin
porcelain. His eyes were black with thick fringy lashes, but his mouth was set
in a straight line.

Brett twisted around, scowling, but backed off when
he saw who stood there. It surprised me this gorilla of a man gave a crap about
anything anime guy said. But he did. He let go of my arm, and held his hands up
in mock surrender.

“I didn’t know he was with you, Chase.”

“You didn’t
ask him either, did you?” Chase put his slender hand in mine, curling around my
fingers. My heartbeat sped up at his warm touch. Relieved someone stepped in, I
clutched his hand.

“I’m just trying to have a little fun,” Brett said.

Chase leaned in, and I watched in amazement as Brett
retreated. “You need to start acting like a gentleman. You’re going to give the
club a bad reputation.”

“Sorry, dude.” Brett brushed off my shoulders, as if
he’d contaminated me in some way, and headed to the dance floor without looking
back.

I dropped Chase’s hand, releasing a huge sigh.
“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t
mention it.”

“I thought he was going to try to have me right here
on the bar stool.”

He smiled. White and flawless, it lit up his angular
face. His dark gaze scanned me. “Who could blame him?”

I know I blushed because heat spread across my
cheeks. But his playful manner didn’t repulse me like Brett’s had. I tried not
to fixate on his pretty mouth, but it wasn’t easy. Not if he kept flirting with
me.

“I guess I’m
irresistible tonight,” I said dryly.

“I’m Chase Bennett.”

“Peter Harris,” I said.

He left me briefly and chose two of the many drinks
lined up where he’d been seated earlier. Then he sat next to me, pushing one of
them toward me.

“Here, have one of mine. You seem to be wearing
yours.”

My knees felt weak, so I sat happily. “Yes, I guess
spilling his drink on me was all the foreplay I was going to get.”