He glances down at it, and if the lighting in here wasn’t so dim, with only the sparkle of the Christmas lights above us to see by, I could swear I see a blush spread across his cheeks.
“Uh, no,” he replies quietly, allowing the bag drop to the ground before grabbing the beer the bartender just placed in front of him and taking a big sip.
As I blindly reach for my own glass, I keep my eyes on his face while I take a drink, expecting for him to continue. He doesn’t elaborate at first, but that’s fine. I can wait him out. I have no idea why he sat down next to me after I spilled beer on him and then insulted him. I’m a little buzzed and feeling much less hatred toward the Christmas music echoing around me. Talking to a hot guy is a better way to spend the time while I wait for my connecting flight than wondering how disappointed my mother is going to be when I come clean about everything, what I’m going to do about finding another job, and where the hell I’m going to live when I go back home to Seattle after Christmas.
I let the silence stretch just enough for it to get creepy and uncomfortable while I sit and stare at him without saying a word. After a few minutes, my side-eye glance finally does the trick, and he shakes his head before turning his face back to mine.
“Fine, I’ll tell you my name, but if you laugh, I’m tossing my beer at you this time,” he warns.
I make an X across my heart, and then hold my hand up, palm out in a silent promise.
“Stocking…Sam Stocking,” he mumbles, letting out another annoyed sigh.
Slowly dropping my arm to my side, my jaw falls right along with it.
“Stocking. As in…”
Sam purses his lips and glares at me. “As in ‘hung by the chimney with care,’ yes. This is an especially fun time of year for me.”
His statement doesn’t match the scowl on his face, and even though I promised, I really, really want to laugh, but not for the reason he might think.
“Go ahead, take back your promise and laugh. I know you want to.”
I have to bite down on my lips to stop the giggle from escaping. With a deep breath, I put the most serious expression on my face I can muster.
“I’m not going to laugh. It’s not funny at all. I honestly pity you right now,” I tell him solemnly.
“I think I’d prefer laughter,” he mutters.
I can’t take the annoyed look on his face any longer and my laughter breaks free. Extending my hand in his direction, I give him a sincere smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sam Stocking. The name’s Holiday. Noel Holiday, and this time of year can suck it.”
A smile finally emerges on his grumpy face, lighting up his striking features, and I feel butterflies in my stomach when I catch a glimpse of his dimples again and hear the husky sound of his chuckle. Those damn butterflies start moving like a cyclone in my stomach when his large, warm hand engulfs my small, cold one and gives it a shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, Noel Holiday.” Dropping my hand, he picks up his glass and tilts it toward me. “I’ll toast to sucking it.”
He says that last part softly and his eyes move down to my lips. A sudden shot of lust flows through me as I wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine.
What in the actual hell am I doing? I’m supposed to be heart-broken and sad, dreading the moment when I knock on my parent’s door and have to explain my shitty life and how I’ve let them down yet again. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about some stranger I just met at an airport bar and will never see again.
Sam leans in closer and I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s woodsy and light, not overpowering, but just enough to tickle your nose and fill your mind with dirty, dirty thoughts. My body unconsciously moves toward his and I watch his eyes while they stay glued to my lips.
He clinks our glasses together gently and lifts one eyebrow flirtatiously. “To sucking it.”
The playful expression doesn’t leave his face until the glass reaches his lips, and I stare mesmerized at his throat each time he swallows.
“To sucking it,” I whisper, my eyes unblinking as I gulp down my beer.
Chapter 2
Sam