A Toast to the Good Times - By Liz Reinhardt Page 0,2

and all.

Living with Mila was like having a sister-like person around.

Only less annoying.

Maybe like a pretty cool cousin.

Or, I guess, I could call her a best friend.

I start to restock glasses and think about the fact that she’s been, possibly, my only true friend here. There was this guy who came with me from my hometown, Tyler. We were supposed to see about buying this bar to run together. But he wound up sleeping with my girlfriend at the time, and we beat the piss out of each other when I caught him. So it seemed like a good idea to let that partnership go.

I find myself slamming the glass in my hand down a little harder than I mean to when I remember Heather, naked, on top of Tyler.

In my bed.

I was one hundred percent ready to get back to New Jersey and lick my wounds as fast as I could after that day. But I bumped into Mila while I was drinking away my sorrows at some bar and I wound up telling her my entire sad story. She mentioned that she was looking for an apartment and also might know a few good bartenders who’d be willing to help me cover shifts for cheap. It wasn’t the way I imagined it would be moving out on my own to big, bad Boston, but it wound up working.

Even if her cheerful exuberance is sometimes more than I want to deal with.

Also, she has a small lightsaber collection, and she wore a freakishly detailed Princess Leia costume for Halloween to give out candy. It isn’t that bad, but, still, she’s putting one toe dangerously close to the line of complete, hopeless dork-dom.

The bells above the door ring, and three regular girls who temp at the law offices down the street fall through the doorway, giggling.

“Hey, Landry!” the cute redhead, Lori, calls out. “The girls wanted to go somewhere nice for our pre-party buzz, but I had to come and see if you were standing under any mistletoe.”

I point above my head at the dark-beamed ceiling. “Nothing but dust and cobwebs up there. If you want a kiss, you don’t have to use some lame made-up Christmas tradition. I’m easy like that.”

I mix three quick rum and gingers, just to keep the ridiculous holiday spirit in the air, put them down in front of the girls, and lean over the bar. I cup Lori’s chin in my hands and kiss her, quick and soft enough that she won’t get any funny ideas, but long and hard enough that my lips are definitely coated with some kind of peppermint-smelling lip stuff.

Her blush is so pink, it almost blots out her freckles. She toasts with her cat-calling friends and takes a sip. “Mmm. What’s in this?”

“Bartenders’ code. I can’t spill secret info like that. If you knew what I put in it, you’d have no reason to come back and see me.” I like the way her blush gets even darker.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Lori leans in and looks at me with big, sweet doe eyes. “The drinks are way better at Dominick’s. I come here for the view.”

Lori is petite, but curvy in all the right places. I like the way she moves. I like the way she flirts. I like her laugh. And having her come home with me would be a great way to kick off some of the holiday blues.

But Mila is planning a whole laid back thing, and I can’t screw it all up on Christmas like that for her. She takes all this holiday stuff seriously.

So I keep the flirting with pretty little Lori on a low simmer, and I let her hints for more drop over and over until her friends sigh and pull her to the next hot spot. My libido hurts when she looks at me over her shoulder one last time, but I seriously don’t need the complication of holiday sex, no matter how badly I want it.

Everything gets crazier around the holidays, and, while I love Lori’s little visits to the bar, she isn’t girlfriend material. I wouldn’t want her to think there’s more to the whole thing than there really is, and holiday sex is just the kind of confusing ingredient I don’t need to add to an easy sort-of friendship like ours.

Maybe after the New Year I’ll reconsider my no-sex-with-Lori stance. But by then, we’ll be getting dangerously close to Valentine’s Day, and that brings a whole