Blame It on the Mistletoe Read Online Free PDF Page B

off.
    “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. It’s good to see you. I’d still like to catch up but I’m not here for long.”
    “Maybe next time,” Ryan said.
    “For sure.” Alex gave a wave and pulled out onto the street. His thoughts were overwhelming him. In a matter of two hours several things in his life had been flipped upside down and twisted. Just being back in town was something, his mother’s sobriety after thirty years, and now this news about sweet Brooke Abbott. He wasn’t sure why the last one was eating at him the way it was. But he knew Ryan was right, he shouldn’t get involved with her.
    If for no other reason than the next guy she spent time with shouldn’t be a quick fling in town for a few days. She needed a good guy who was going to teach her to trust again. That guy should be her forever, and Alex wasn’t that guy by a long shot.
    **
    One step into the dimly lit dive bar Smokey’s, and Brooke had a bad feeling. An old U2 song played in the background, punctuated with the laughter of tipsy patrons and low cheers from a televised football game. It was unusually busy for a holiday that was supposed to be spent with family. Then again, maybe the owner Aiden was onto something—there had to be lots of people like her who could take only so much family togetherness.
    She glanced around, but didn’t see Alex at a table or the bar. Shit. She’d even purposely shown up ten minutes late so she wouldn’t appear too eager. The sad truth was her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d left her shop.
    “Hey, Sweet Thing,” a rough voice called from behind the bar. Well, she couldn’t turn around and leave now, she’d been spotted. She smiled and made her way to a stool beside an older man who appeared to be a permanent fixture, his eyes glued to the TV above the wall of shiny glass bottles, a hand gripping a pint of beer for dear life.
    Brooke smiled at Aiden, the bartender. He was several years older than she was and had worked at Smokey’s for years before finally taking it over. She’d never really known him, not until she’d moved back a year ago, but they’d instantly become friends. In Brooke’s experience, most bartenders were friendly since their income depended on it, but Aiden was also about as genuine as a person could be. He looked a little rough, his long blond hair always pulled into a ponytail low on his neck, his jaw usually on the wrong side of a shave, and his oversized biceps covered in tattoos. But he was a gentle giant. And his smile was pretty adorable. He reminded Brooke of a wrestler, and she’d seen him use that to his advantage a couple of times when things got a little rowdy in the bar.
    “Shop ready for the weekend?” he asked as he set a raspberry wheat draft, her favorite, in front of her.
    “I think so, about as ready as it’s gonna be.” She took a long gulp from the frosty pint glass and felt some tension drain from her limbs. “I just wish I could toss those roadwork signs into the dumpster. Would that be a felony?”
    Aiden chuckled. “Not sure, but with a brother behind the law I’m sure you could get away with it.”
    Brooke rolled her eyes and took another drink.
    “Well, the shop looks good from what I can see. You got those big gumdrops, lights, and whatnot outside. I got a good feeling.”
    Brooke smiled. “Thank you, Aiden. I hope you’re right.” She may have had one too many drinks in the past and vented some of her frustrations and fears to the burly bartender. That was what they were here for, right? He was the only person besides Ryan—and now her nonexistent date—that knew she was shacking up at 100 Main. Aiden kept her secrets, bless him.
    He stepped away to make some drinks for a server in skin-tight jeans, and Brooke took the opportunity to casually glance around the room, trying not to appear to be doing exactly that. She peeked at the time on her phone. 8:30. Asshole.
    “You meetin’ someone?” Aiden asked,