Mistletoe and Margaritas by Shannon Stacey

alcohol made you do. And who it made you do it with.”
    She didn’t need three minutes. She didn’t even need three seconds. “I got waylaid by a migraine, that’s all. And alcohol doesn’t help.”
    Penny would probably be hurt to know Claire was lying to her, but she didn’t think Justin wanted their business to become the latest fertilizer for the town grapevine. And neither did she.
    “No offense, Claire, but that’s boring as hell. You need to go out and have a good time.” She shoved her feet back into her boots. “How’s the migraine now?”
    “Better. Just need to catch up on my sleep now.”
    She tried, after Penny left. Curling up on the couch with Moxie, Claire tried to nap, but she could see the snowflakes falling outside the window and they made her think of Justin. Then she heard the big state plow truck go by and made herself close her eyes.
    If the town and the state were out plowing, so was Justin and she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he’d stop by, looking for food—since he wouldn’t make pool and pizza night—or a power nap. Or maybe some company if he hadn’t been lying about their friendship still being solid.
    It was dusk when she woke to Moxie knitting her claws in her sweatshirt and the sound of somebody rummaging around in her fridge. For a long moment she just lay there, soaking up the normalcy. Then Moxie jumped down and sauntered over to figure-eight her way around Justin’s ankles and she knew the jig was up.
    “I stopped at that deli you like and got a couple of turkey bulkies and a bucket of German potato salad. Are you out of mustard?”
    “There’s a new one in the cabinet.” She sat up and tried to rub the lingering sleep from her eyes. “You should have called. I would have had everything ready.”
    “By the time I thought of it, I was almost here.”
    She went into the bathroom and when she emerged, he had everything spread out on the table so all she had to do was sit. “Has the snow let up any?”
    “It’s winding down. After I eat, I’ll probably make another quick pass for clients who have to get in or out before eight o’clock or so tomorrow morning and I’ll do the rest then.”
    She nodded and took a bite of her bulky, shuddering a little as he drizzled mustard over the top of his potato salad.
    Justin paused with his first forkful halfway to his mouth, looking at her. “You gonna ride with me tonight?”
    “Sure.” There, that was casual and to the point. Not even a hint of the insane relief she felt at this small sign they were back on track.
    And that was good, even if the track was going to have a few more potholes in it than it had before. All she had to do was pretend she’d forgotten the night they’d spent together and never thought about how amazing and wonderful the sex had been between them.
    If she lied to herself—and to him—long enough, maybe someday it would become the truth.
     
    She smelled so good. Even as Justin tried to concentrate on not hitting Mrs. Wilson’s car while backdragging the plow to clear the snow from behind it, he was aware of how delicious Claire smelled. Which, of course, led him directly back to those thoughts about how good she tasted he’d sworn he wasn’t going to think anymore.
    “How was opening day?” she asked, and it took him a few seconds to clear his head and realize she was talking about snowmobiling.
    “It was good. Chris and I put on about sixty miles. Not a lot, but they’re still getting the trails in shape and it was a good shakedown run.” Mrs. Wilson’s driveway was done, so he raised the plow and pulled out onto the road to head to the next place.
    “That’s good.” She was staring out the side window and he wondered what she was thinking about. “Is Brendan’s snowmobile still in your garage?”
    That answered that. “Yeah.”
    “I was thinking about learning how to drive it. Maybe go out with you sometimes.”
    He laughed and nudged her arm with his elbow.