Christmas Break

Chapter 2

Sterling

Sterling Holt was freezing his ass off. Despite his thick jacket and scarf, his hands shook as he poured drinks behind the bar. Normally he wouldn't be wearing outerwear on the job—it was unprofessional—but it was so cold in here that he was making an exception.

If he wasn't here as a favour to a friend, he would've been long gone already. But he was, so...

He'd found himself in some little college town he'd already forgotten the name of, working at a dive bar called The Snowball's Chance. As he exhaled and saw his breath form a puffy white cloud in front of him, he thought it was an appropriate name—a snowball might actually have a chance of surviving in here.

"It sure is a cold today, huh?" said the patron, a younger professor who was apparently a regular here, who was waiting for the drink Sterling was making.

"Cold doesn't even begin to cover it," Sterling replied, shuddering as the chill slid down his back. He garnished the drink with a perfect curl of orange peel and pushed it toward them.

The regular took it and had a sip. Immediately their eyebrows raised, and a grin spread across their face. "Damn, that's good," they said as they pushed a bill across the counter. "Never thought I'd get a perfect Old Fashioned in a place like this. Keep the change."

Sterling smirked to himself as he took the bill. It was a large one, much more than the cost of the drink. Even with frozen fingers, he made a damn good cocktail. He opened the till, counted out the change, and deposited it in the big tip jar behind the counter. He rubbed his hands and blew on them in hopes of warming up those fingers of his. They served him well, and he'd like to keep them.

"Oh, come on," came a voice from behind. "It's not that cold."

Sterling turned, and there was Olly, leaning against the bar. He was all bundled up, dressed in a gaudy Christmas sweater, a fuzzy Santa hat pulled down low over his bleached-blonde hair, and—for some reason—leather pants.

"Cold?" Sterling echoed his friend's words with a laugh. "You're right, it's not cold—it's goddamn freezing."

Olly rolled his eyes. He was the owner of The Snowball's Chance and Sterling's friend. When Olly's previous bartender had quit unexpectedly just before the holiday rush, he'd been in a real bind and desperate to find a replacement. When he heard Sterling was going to be passing through the area, he called him up to help out.

And Sterling would never pass up a chance to help Olly—not after everything Olly had done for him. He owed him his life. So, here he was.

"It's not so bad," Olly said, sauntering past Sterling to pour himself a drink. "California just made you soft."

Sterling blew out a sharp breath. "Don't think so. I wasn't even there for long. I basically just drove through as I came North."

"Your tan says differently."