Page 67 of Santa's Girl
Didn’t answer. Just went back to my glass.
That’s when the door swung open again, and I didn’t even have to look to know it was Jinx. I could feel him from across a room — sharp energy, cocky step, heavy jacket with one snap always undone.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder, leaned in. “You good?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Thought not.”
He flagged the bartender and ordered two more doubles, then settled in beside me like we were just two regulars waiting out a storm.
We didn’t talk much after that.
We didn’t need to.
Sometimes the best kind of brotherhood is justsitting stillwith a man when he’s coming undone — no advice, no jokes, just silence and weight.
And whiskey.
The Tahoe was rattlingup the mountain road, tires grinding on gravel, heater blasting, but I still couldn’t get warm.
Jinx was behind the wheel, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel like he hadn’t a care in the world. Grease and Axel were half-dozing in the back, boots up, jackets undone, talking low about some bar fight they narrowly avoided last weekend.
Me? I stared out the passenger window, jaw tight, teeth grinding.
Still tasting Becca on my lips.
Still smelling her perfume on my damn collar.
Still kicking myself for letting it get away from me like that.
“You gonna keep sulking like a kicked dog, or...?” Jinx said, glancing over at me.
I didn’t answer.
He snorted. “Don’t look so damn miserable. According to my weather app, another snowstorm’s heading in at the end of the week. Could dump one to three feet.”
I looked at him. He was grinning now.
That was never good.
“You get her back up at the clubhouse,” he went on, real casual-like. “Tell her you busted your knee or came down with the flu or somethin’. Hell, make up some sob story. Say the waitstaff’s down bad and we need help. Say she could clean up on tips. Whatever.”
I stared at him.
“Then—oops,” he said, snapping his fingers. “She accidentally gets snowed in again. Just like last time. Just you and her. Your cabin. No one else around but the snow and the pine trees and your sad-ass pining heart.”
I rolled my eyes. “Real smooth, Jinx.”
He smirked. “What? Problem solved. And maybe you’ll stop mopin’ around the place like someone shot your dog.”
“Shoot me.”
“C’mon, man. You want her. She wants you. The tension’s so thick, Axel thought we were about to crash the truck from the way you were vibrating.”
I shook my head, but he wasn’t wrong.
I was vibrating. Still.
