—Miss Mistletoe—
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JENNIE
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"Look at the traction this post is getting!" Rosé shoves her phone in my face and waves it around, making it impossible to focus on the image.
I grab it from her, so I can see what she's so excited about. I frown, not because it's a bad image, but because I have no idea who took it or why it has so many comments or likes. It's a picture of Lisa and me, her arm slung over my shoulder and mine wrapped around her waist. We're smiling at each other, and while it's on her feed, it was taken in my shop. Based on what's happening in the background and my outfit, it was taken a couple of days ago when we had a post-Christmas, pre–New Year's collaborative event—which is what most of our events are at this point.
And it's turned out to be incredibly positive in terms of the Best Bar competition. We both made it through to the quarterfinals, although The Manoban Cap managed to secure spot number twelve, while BB ranked as number fifteen. I think it has a lot to do with our duets during karaoke nights, not that I'll say it out loud.
I read the caption. I'm aware that Lisa leaves that stuff to Chan and one of her servers, who sometimes pass things by me or Rosé, so they can manage what to post and when. This is clearly not a pre-approved post, but people seem to love it. Because they've dubbed us The Manoban Cakes and have given us a hashtag.
"Who approved this hashtag? It's terrible."
"Really? I think it's cute." Rosé gives me her innocent look, which isn't innocent at all.
"Jenlisa is not a cute hashtag. Was this your idea? Who took this picture?"
"I had nothing to do with the hashtag. Your followers came up with it, and they're loving it. Everyone ships you two."
I roll my eyes. "We're not dating, we're collaborating."
"Yet. You're not dating yet."
We've had this conversation several times over the past three weeks—ever since the night I fell asleep on Lisa's couch. "Am I attracted to her? Yes. Is it a good idea to get involved with her? No."
"Says who?"
"Says anyone who knows what it's like to date someone you're working with. It's a recipe for disaster. See Raphael for details." She can't argue with that logic, considering the way that entire situation blew up in my face.
Although, if that hadn't happened I might not be here, working for myself. I may barely be making ends meet, and I may also be very much in need of a month-long nap, but at least I'm doing what I love.
"Raphael was a douche canoe, and it's not the same situation at all. You were not his equal, you were his student and he took advantage of a position of power. And then he seriously screwed you over because he likes to stick his dick in everything that moves. Including Baked Alaska."
I shudder at that image. "It's still not advisable. We're competing against each other for Best Bar and we're working together to keep our businesses afloat so those fuckers don't push us out." I motion across the street to the yet-to-open massive adult indoor arcade and bar.
Their grand opening is New Year's Eve, of course. Which is why Lisa and I have been spending an inordinate amount of time together planning our own New Year's bash.
We've gone over all the fine details relentlessly. I have not, however, been back to her place since the night I fell asleep on her couch. Has there been a suggestion that we might want to work at her place? Maybe, but since BB closes earlier than The Manoban Cap, it makes sense for us to plan at my shop. At least that's been my rationale, and she hasn't really pushed it.
Not to mention, that morning when I went into work late one of Tori Taylor's people, who happens to be local, stopped in before I arrived. I missed my chance to make a good impression—or any impression at all, really.
And of course that same person ended up at Lisa's, because Lisa's in the competition, too—only Lisa made it to the bar in time. I might find her attractive, but I don't want to lose out on any other opportunities, should they arise.
It doesn't mean we're not flirting, or that I don't find myself staring at her mouth, wondering how her lips would feel on mine.
It just means I've been circumventing the potential for further complications and excessive distractions. Until this Best Bar competition is over and done with and we see what the impact of this whole Dick and Bobby's grand opening has on our respective bottom lines, I don't think it's a great idea to jump into her bed. Or jump her in general.
I do think about it frequently when I'm in the shower, and in my own bed. And everywhere, really.
"Earth to Jennie." Rosé snaps her fingers in my face. At the same time her camera goes off.
I jerk back. "What?"
"You were totally thinking about boning Lisa just now, weren't you?"
"I was not!"
"You definitely were. Look at the expression on your face!" She holds up her phone so I can see the picture she took.
I'm biting my lip and touching my throat, lost in a daydream. About riding Lisa. I push her phone away. "Whatever. Thinking about it and doing it aren't the same thing."
Rosé wiggles her eyebrows. "I give you max two weeks before you fold."
Fortunately, Callie arrives for her shift, ending that conversation.
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During the lead-up to New Year's Eve I average about four hours of sleep a night, and it sure as hell isn't the restful kind. On the upside, the cohosted events with Lisa have been keeping me from digging further into my line of credit. It's a little less terrifying to pay the bills when I know I'm not turning my overdraft into a black hole every time or adding to my debt.
New Year's planning means lots of expenses, but ticket sales for the event have been incredible and we sold out completely last week, which helps offset all the costs.
On New Year's Eve, I'm up before six in the morning even though I went to bed at two. Lisa and I sat at her bar and went over the plan for tonight, double and triple checking that we have everything we need. Our cohosted New Year's party has been getting a lot of attention and rumor has it Tori Taylor is planning to come our way soon as the semifinal round closes in.
When I arrive at BB, I notice that Lisa's truck is already there, which seems a lot early for her. Imagine my surprise when I walk into my shop and find Lisa behind the bar, making cappuccinos. "What're you doing here?"
She glances at me, eyes moving over me in that familiar way that makes a shiver run down my spine and heat pool south of the navel. "Good morning to you, too."
"Sorry. It's just a surprise to see you here at this hour." Lisa usually doesn't roll in until nine thirty or ten. "Oh God, nothing happened next door? We don't have another wrong delivery, do we?"
Lisa wipes her hands on her apron—she's wearing one with the BB logo; actually, it's mine because it has the cupcake with the crown decoration—and wraps her hands around my arms. "Take a deep breath, Jennie. You look like you're on the verge of panic, and there is absolutely nothing to be worried about."
Over the past few weeks I've grown accustomed to Lisa's touch. The way she casually slings her arm over my shoulder. The frequent occasions where she picks me up and moves me out of the way when I'm ranting about something and she wants to multitask. And although I'm accustomed to it, I'm definitely not immune. I clear my throat before I speak; otherwise I'm liable to sound all breathy. "It's barely eight in the morning. How are you here and did you even sleep last night?" Her hands slide down my arms and I fight a shiver.
She shrugs, looking sheepish. "I got a few hours. I plan to sleep all day tomorrow. I borrowed Rosé's key. I figured you might need some help this morning since you likely went to bed around the same time as me."
"Oh, well that's incredibly sweet of you. I'm going to sleep all the sleeps tomorrow, too. It's going to be magic." I fight a yawn.
Her eyes widen comically. "Oh no! Don't do that! They're contagious." We both cup our hands over our mouths and yawn at the same time. My eyes water. Lord, I'm going to be exhausted tomorrow.
A loud clank and hiss comes from behind her and we both startle.
"What the heck?" I grab on to her arm and hide behind her as she spins around.
I peek over her shoulder and get a glimpse of the cappuccino maker, which is currently steaming in places it shouldn't be.
"Oh shit, that doesn't look right." Her expression reflects her horror.
"That's because it's not." I move around her, pulling the plug before it blows.
Lisa helps me clean up the mess. It turns out one of the seals has broken, so we're down a freaking cappuccino maker. I call around frantically, looking to see if someone can come in and fix it today. While we can usually get by with one machine, it's going to be busy tonight.
I manage to find someone who can come in this afternoon, but of course it's going to cost me a freaking arm and a leg. Lisa apologizes profusely, obviously feeling bad about it. I assure her it wasn't her fault, and that it's just crap timing.
The morning flies by; people working half-days stop in to grab a quick bite, orders are picked up for events, and by the time two rolls around we're almost completely sold out, which is great because it means little in the way of cleanup before we set up for tonight.
The cappuccino maker is fixed, thankfully, before three in the afternoon, and a test run indicates that it's back in working order.
By three thirty BB is ready for the evening, tables set up to display tiers of dessert cupcakes, glittery decorations everywhere, a perfect complement to the beer and champagne theme. Everything is gold and black and sparkly and beautiful.
I stand in the middle of the shop with my hands on my hips. "I think it looks perfect. What do you think?"
"Definitely perfect." Lisa is still wearing a Buttercream and Booze apron, but her focus isn't on the decorations.
"You're not even looking." I motion to the shop.
"I don't need to. I helped put them up, so I already know how they look."
"But it's everything put together. That's what makes it perfect."
"And you're the cherry on top. Or maybe you should be one of those little Eat Me candies instead. Those are delicious. You got any lying around?"
"You realize that made no sense at all, right?"
"Sure it did. This place looks perfect and not just because the decorations are on point, but because you're in the middle of it, looking radiant and proud as hell, as you should be. Now where are those Eat Me candies?"
"There aren't any Eat Me candies."
"Well, that's a disappointment. I guess I'll have to settle for a leftover cupcake." She plucks one from a box—that's all there is left—peels off the wrapper and devours it in two bites, groaning her enjoyment.
When she's done, we head over to The Manoban Cap and enlist the help of her staff to decorate. Much to Lisa's dismay, I hang mistletoe above the bar and over the tables.
"Aren't we a little late for this?"
"It's never too late for mistletoe."
"Like people don't already have an excuse to make out on New Year's; now you're adding this?" She motions to the pretty sprig tied with a red, gold, and black plaid ribbon hanging from one of the lights above the bar—which I'm standing on top of, while wearing a pair of the steel-toed boots reserved for the axe throwers.
On account of tonight's festivities and the very high likelihood that many if not most of the patrons will be "super wasted," as Chan put it, the axes have all been locked away. Standing tables have been set up and stools line the walls so there's more room for mingling and dancing.
"Oh, come on, don't be a Scrooge. These should have been up all month!"
"I'm just saying, Chan doesn't need an excuse to make out with the customers."
"Maybe some poor shy girl who would never in a million years have the guts to kiss the guy she's interested in will find herself under this mistletoe and end up kissed by her very own Prince Charming."
"More likely a bleary-eyed, horny, drunk guy, but I get that you're throwing off your wonderland vibes tonight and prefer to live in a land of fairy tales and make-believe where college guys aren't a bunch of dirtbags."
"Were you a dirtbag?" I ask. Lisa is flirty, but not in a slimy way.
"Not as a general rule, no."
I move down the bar to the next hanging light so I can wrap the glittery garland around it, affixing yet another sprig of mistletoe. "So that means you occasionally were a dirtbag." It's more statement than question.
"I'm not perfect, and I was once a drunk, horny twentysomething. Try not to judge me too harshly."
I move on to the next light. "How old were you when you started with the body art?"
Lisa hands me another set of ribbons. "When I was eighteen, but it wasn't until after I lost my parents that I started on the sleeves. Why?"
"I bet the college girls loved you, all tatted up and badass." I tap my lip. "And I'm sure that hasn't changed at all."
She barks out a laugh. "Chan is more the college girl catnip."
I glance at Chan and shrug. "I mean, he's a cute kid, and I'm sure there are plenty of college girls who would fall all over themselves to get his attention, but he's got the grace of an elephant trying to be a ballerina when he's hitting on women. I mean, he told me he'd love to take a ride on the cougar express."
Lisa's jaw drops. "He said what?"
"It was a joke." At least I'm going to pretend it was.
"Like hell it was. When did he say that? Was it recently? It better not have been recently." If looks could kill, Chan would be the ashy remains of a cremated corpse.
I prop a fist on my hip. "I think it was actually meant as a backward compliment."
"He was trying to get into your pants, like he tries to do with every single female he encounters that he isn't related to. Or under your skirt, since I've never seen you in a pair of pants. Ever." Her gaze moves over my legs. I'm wearing a pair of sparkly tights.
"So really you're saying he'll screw anything with a pulse, no matter what she looks like?"
"He's not very discerning."
"Well, thanks." That's a blow my ego certainly doesn't need from the girl I'm crushing on. "I know I'm not a model-esque, highly fashionable beauty queen, but I'm not an ogre, either!"
"I didn't mean that you're unattractive—"
"No, just that Chan will bone anyone with a vagina, so don't be flattered that he hit on me. I get it." I've reached the end of the bar and crouch so the jump down isn't as far. The last thing I need tonight is to roll an ankle. I'm super tired and stressed about the event tonight, and for whatever reason the whole Chan thing gets my back up.
"Let me help you down." Lisa holds out a hand.
I swat it away. "I don't need help."
"Are you serious right now? Why are you suddenly all pissy?"
"I'm not pissy," I say rather pissily.
"Really?"
"Move out of the way so I can get down." Now I'm snippy to go with the pissy. And because I'm extra overtired, and maybe a little too hopped up on caffeine, I'm also very close to irrational tears. I better not be getting my period on top of everything else.
"Or you could just let me help you."
"I told you, I'm fine." I put a hand on the edge of the bar so I can hop the three and a half feet to the floor.
But before I can make a move Lisa steps closer and wraps her hands around my waist. I don't expect her to lift me off the bar, so I tip forward. Grabbing her shoulder, I slide down the front of her body. Her very firm, hard body.
Lisa has a lot of ridges and planes and angles. But as my hips glide down her abs I'm suddenly aware of a very significant, prominent lump as I make the trip past her fly.
She's still holding on to my waist, and I'm still clutching her shoulders. I attempt to step back, but her grip tightens. I tip my chin up and blink up at her.
Her expression is mostly flat as she dips her head down until her mouth is at my ear. "I would appreciate it if you didn't call me out right now, Jennie, but as I'm sure you can feel, the head below the belt, which happens to respond to messages from my brain, does not find you unattractive. In fact, based on my inability to control said head, I would say that's evidence that we find you rather appealing and both of us would prefer it if Chan would keep his commentary to himself and his damn eyeballs off you."
She backs up enough that her face comes into focus. Her expression is far from remote now; it's full of heat. The same kind of heat pooling in my belly. I'd like to say something cheeky about the fact that she's referring to her penis as if it's an independent thinker, but my mouth has gone dry.
I manage to whisper, "Noted."
"Great. I'm going to take a minute to get a handle on things." She cringes. "Not an actual handle. I'm just going to think about unappealing things. I'll be back."
She lets go of me and I drop my arms. I watch her walk away, stiffly.
Chan appears beside me. "Where's Lisa going?"
"She's taking a minute to collect herself." I don't mean to go with such blatant honesty.
Chan smirks and jerks his chin up. "I bet she is. She's been staring at your legs for the past half hour like she's watching a damn striptease. You two just need to hook up and get it over with. The sexual tension is making me all edgy and shit." He slings his towel over his shoulder and saunters back to the bar where he's skewering fruit for cocktails.
I glance up at the mistletoe hanging from the lights and consider how it might come in handy later.
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By four thirty in the afternoon we're completely set up, the food is prepped, tables are decorated, and menus are laid out. Now it's just a matter of changing, freshening my makeup, and mainlining about four gallons of coffee.
The evening doesn't go off without a hitch; there are glitches. BB runs out of the top-shelf vodka, but Lisa is there to save the day with her own stock. Thankfully we've agreed to split costs and revenue, so it's not a big deal. One of the servers slips on a French fry and loses an entire tray of cupcakes, but overall it's an incredible success. And while there's a line outside of Dick and Bobby's celebrating their grand opening, we're at max capacity and end up having to turn people away, which is unfortunate but also a good thing.
The adrenaline pumping through my veins means I'm probably going to crash hard when the bar finally closes, but for the time being I'm enjoying the success of the event.
As midnight approaches, I find myself behind the bar with Lisa, mixing drinks. Her fireworks-patterned tie is thrown over her shoulder so it doesn't soak up anything spilled on the bartop. Despite the extra staff, they can't seem to keep up with the demands and the lineup to get to the bar is three deep as people order champagne cocktails to toast the New Year.
I lost my heels hours ago in exchange for the steel-toe boots required behind the bar, which means I've also lost three inches of height, and I have to stretch to reach the bottles on the high shelves.
Lisa reaches over me and grabs the bottle I need, then bends so her mouth is at my ear, shouting over the music so I can hear her. "Tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you." Her lips brush the shell as she speaks, sending a warm shiver down my spine.
I nod because I've been shouting most of the night and my voice is pretty much gone. The front of my fireworks-and-champagne-glasses dress is damp from leaning over the bar, and I smell like champagne and beer, but I couldn't be happier.
We work together, passing bottles and garnishes without having to speak because we each seem to know what the other needs. She reaches around behind me, our bodies touching constantly as we pour and serve, pour and serve.
Then the countdown begins, and there's a tiny pause in the mayhem behind the bar as the crowd raise their drinks in the air, shouting and laughing their way into the New Year.
"Here, take this." Lisa wraps my hand around a shot glass and clinks her own against it.
"What is it?"
"Just drink it," she shouts.
We raise our glasses to our lips and I knock back the shot. Shouts of "Happy New Year!" rise to almost unbearable levels as it burns its way down my throat.
"Happy New Year!" Chan screams and gives us a double hug and then points to the light above us. "Look up." And then he's off down the bar, yelling "Happy New Year!" at the top of his lungs.
Lisa and I look up at the same time and realize that we happen to be standing directly under one of the sprigs of mistletoe. Our gazes meet, and I can see the resolve in her eyes. I'm sure the few shots we've done behind the bar tonight are fully responsible for what happens next.
Lisa slips one hand around my waist and pulls me against her. She tips her head to the side fractionally: a silent question. I respond by sliding my hands over her chest to lock them behind her neck, tugging gently as I tip my chin up.
Her other hand curves around my nape as she dips down and her warm, minty breath mingles with mine. "Happy New Year, Jennie."
"Happy New Year, Lisa."
A shock of energy lights me up like a neon sign, zinging through my veins as our lips meet for the first time. It's a full-body tingle, starting at my scalp, working its way down my body. Heat funnels straight between my thighs and my toes curl.
We tip our heads in opposite directions, lips parting, tongues sliding against each other. She groans and I moan as we open wider, tongues stroking deeper. I grip the back of her neck and the hand on my waist drifts lower. Cupping my left butt cheek, Lisa pulls me tighter against her. I feel her hard against my stomach, and I press my hips closer.
I'm pretty sure the kiss would have lasted forever—or until we got naked—except the sudden hoots, hollers, and shrill whistles remind us that we're not even remotely alone.
We break apart and I worry for a second that maybe this wasn't the best idea. Realistically it's not a good plan to get involved with my competition/neighbor, but that was one hell of a kiss.
Lisa blinks a couple of times and blows out a breath. "I don't think we're in Wonderland anymore, Alice."
I laugh, glad she's broken the tension.
"You're coming back to my place after we close tonight, right?"
I cock a brow.
"Or we can go to yours if that's better. Or closer," she adds.
"Are you saying you want more of this?" I motion to my lips.
The music has started again and there are patrons clamoring for drinks, but Lisa holds a finger up in their direction and leans in close so her lips are at my ear again. "I want all of this. Repeatedly. And while my office has a door that locks, I'm not sure I'll give my best performance in there."
"Mmm. Good point. Your place it is."
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