Page 6 of Yule Know It When You See It
“This is perfect. Thank you so much,” the blonde exclaims, curling some of her hair over one ear.
“Yes. Thank you,” the brunette repeats. As they turn to walk away, she waves at me. “And welcome to America.”
I give a forced smile and sigh, returning to face the bar. “They don’t ask for my number, don’t give metheirnumbers, but ask to take a photo of a damn stranger? I don’t get it, Spence.”
Spencer has already downed more than half his drink during the entire debacle. He snorts at me. “You’re the only guy I know thatcomplainsabout lady attention. And besides, you’re acting like you’d do anything with a phone number. Have you gone celibate and failed to mention it to me?”
“It was weird, and you know it,” I bark, tilting my head back to chug my drink, all of it, and set the mug back on the bar with only suds remaining. “And why the hell are you talking about celibacy? I still date. Occasionally.”
Not that I can recall the last one. Or the one before that.
Spencer clears his throat, finishing the rest and wiping his shirt sleeve across his mouth. He stifles a belch. “Oh yeah? When was the last time you went on one? And what was her name?” Spencer bites his bottom lip, mischief casting in his gaze.
I glare at him, lifting the empty mug to my lips, forgetting I’d finished it. Committed now, I continue to “sip” from the mug, refusing to answer him.
“That’s what I thought.” Spencer’s hand claps against my back. “Not saying you gotta go out there and find a wife or anything, Ax. Lord knows that’s not on my top priority list, but even I, as a lawyer, make the time to socialize outside of your ugly ass and work.”
“I want to be you when I grow up. Will you take me under your wing?” I bat my eyelashes and lean against him, pressing a hand to my chest.
Shoving me away, Spencer laughs. “Since when did Vikings become hotter than lawyers, anyhow?”
“Since the tenth century, I believe?”
Spencer punches my arm and points at the empty mugs. “Another round?”
I hold a palm up. “Oh, no. If it weren’t my first day tomorrow, I’d never turn down free beer.”
Spencer jostles my shoulder. “Oh, come on. How about just a pint?”
“Fine.”
I really do hate turning down free beer.
Spencer motions to the bartender, ordering two pints of beer, and leans his elbow on the bar. “Feeling good about the new writing gig?”
“Definitely. It’s one of the top eight most popular magazines in the country. Will look great on my resume.”
The pints arrive, and we lift them, clinking our glasses together in a cheer.
“Cheers to the new job,” Spence says, smiling.
“Thanks. Skål.”
We sip.
“Not going to lie, though. Kinda crazy they have you start right around the holidays.” Spencer curls his hands around the glass, tracing absent circles in the sweat collecting on it.
“I thought that too. But they have some assignment that needs coverage straight away. Said I could start early if I was willing to take it on.”
“Oh, yeah? What is it?”
I shrug, eyes focusing on the hockey game but paying attention to Spencer too. “No idea. Money talks, though.”
“Indeed, it does, friend. Indeed, it does.”
We drink our pints and talk for another hour before I, much to Spencer’s dismay, ask to call it a night. Spencer wins the credit card battle to pay the tab, butIwin by whipping out cash I know he never carries to cover the tip. We exit the bar, taking in the familiar urban sounds of cars honking, murmurs of overlapping conversations, and faint bells chiming from the holidays. A sudden whiff of vanilla, cinnamon, and something earthy hits my nose like a slap. It’s gone no sooner than I’d smelled it. Was the holiday ambiance in full swing already messing with my head?
After parting ways with Spencer and making plans to hang out again, I settle in for the night earlier than usual, determined to make the most of tomorrow. First impressions are everything. The chief editor, Simone Michaels, communicated to me in the interview that the rest of my career at Celestial Magazine would depend on this first day alone.
