sipped his beer. “I like it that way.”
“Shoot. That’s not what we used to say when we were teenagers. If we didn’t have a date on Saturday night, we cowered at home playing pool or watching TV.”
“I don’t remember too many of those nights,” Dustin said with a shrug.
“Fortunately. Or we might have gone crazy with hormones.”
Leaning back on the barstool, his gaze glued to the television set, Dustin said, “I like it better this way.”
“What? You like being without a woman on Saturday night?”
“Women have a tendency to drain the sanity out of your soul.” His tone was ironic.
“Hm.” Marsh thought about that for a minute, nodding his thanks to the woman who laid a beer down in front of him without noticing her I-can-get-off-early-tonight smile. “Why do I get the funny idea you’re not referring to Nina this time?”
He shook his head, not wanting to discuss what had happened. Or the discomfort it had worked up inside him. “I’m not referring to anybody.”
Dustin could feel Marsh’s stare on him. “How come you won’t look at me when you say that?”
“Because you’re so damn ugly.”
Marsh laughed. “Because you’re lying. Something’s got your underwear bunched.”
Dustin sighed, giving up the pretense that he was watching the TV when they both knew he wasn’t. “I got talked into putting up a Christmas tree today.”
“That seems pretty normal for this time of year.”
“Yeah.” Dustin snorted. “Well, that meant decorations, and you know my mother has never skimped on the holiday doodads.”
“Always looks like Mrs. Claus’s house,” Marsh agreed cheerfully.
“You’re a hell of a friend,” Dustin complained, eyeing Marsh with a help-me-out-here expression. “Anyway, I found myself standing under the mistletoe with Jill.”
“Oh, I like that idea.” Marsh’s eyes lit up.
“Don’t like it too much,” Dustin growled. “That’s my mistletoe.”
“Yeah. But not your lady.”
Dustin didn’t like the smug look on Marsh’s face one bit. “No, and she ain’t looking, so don’t be thinking,” he growled.
“How do you know she’s not looking?”
He paused. For a man, this was a humiliating thing to have to admit, even to his best friend of many years. “She didn’t want me to kiss her while we were under the mistletoe, as Joey called it.”
“That’s supposed to mean she ain’t looking? Sounds like she just ain’t looking for you .” Marsh took a long swallow of beer before putting the mug down quickly. “Hey, what made you think you should kiss her, anyway? You’re not usually moving this fast, Dustin. I’m surprised at you.”
“It was Joey’s idea,” Dustin said. “He pointed out our location, asked if I had to kiss her, and damn my soul if the thought didn’t appeal to me before I realized how stupid it was.”
“You were actually going to do it?” Marsh’s eyes were round.
“Well, I’m not sure. But I was giving the idea some thorough consideration.”
“And while you were pondering this life-altering matter, the lady in question made good her escape.” Marsh hit the bar with his palm, laughing uproariously.
“I wish she’d thought it was so funny,” Dustin complained. “Instead she looked like somebody’d given her a whack on the rear.”
“Uh-oh.” Marsh paused to wipe his eyes. “And your pride took a meltdown.”
“Well, my mother was in the room, and—hell, yeah. It was awkward.”
“I wish I’d been there.” Marsh shot his friend a look filled with laughter. “Don’t take it so seriously, Dustin. It caught her off guard as much as it did you. And if she’s trying to get over a fiancé, then she isn’t going to be in the mood to be kissing anyone for a long time.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her.”
“No. I didn’t say that.” Marsh wrapped his hand around his empty mug, giving it a series of light thumps on the bar. He took the beer the waitress handed him, too deep in his
“Shoot. That’s not what we used to say when we were teenagers. If we didn’t have a date on Saturday night, we cowered at home playing pool or watching TV.”
“I don’t remember too many of those nights,” Dustin said with a shrug.
“Fortunately. Or we might have gone crazy with hormones.”
Leaning back on the barstool, his gaze glued to the television set, Dustin said, “I like it better this way.”
“What? You like being without a woman on Saturday night?”
“Women have a tendency to drain the sanity out of your soul.” His tone was ironic.
“Hm.” Marsh thought about that for a minute, nodding his thanks to the woman who laid a beer down in front of him without noticing her I-can-get-off-early-tonight smile. “Why do I get the funny idea you’re not referring to Nina this time?”
He shook his head, not wanting to discuss what had happened. Or the discomfort it had worked up inside him. “I’m not referring to anybody.”
Dustin could feel Marsh’s stare on him. “How come you won’t look at me when you say that?”
“Because you’re so damn ugly.”
Marsh laughed. “Because you’re lying. Something’s got your underwear bunched.”
Dustin sighed, giving up the pretense that he was watching the TV when they both knew he wasn’t. “I got talked into putting up a Christmas tree today.”
“That seems pretty normal for this time of year.”
“Yeah.” Dustin snorted. “Well, that meant decorations, and you know my mother has never skimped on the holiday doodads.”
“Always looks like Mrs. Claus’s house,” Marsh agreed cheerfully.
“You’re a hell of a friend,” Dustin complained, eyeing Marsh with a help-me-out-here expression. “Anyway, I found myself standing under the mistletoe with Jill.”
“Oh, I like that idea.” Marsh’s eyes lit up.
“Don’t like it too much,” Dustin growled. “That’s my mistletoe.”
“Yeah. But not your lady.”
Dustin didn’t like the smug look on Marsh’s face one bit. “No, and she ain’t looking, so don’t be thinking,” he growled.
“How do you know she’s not looking?”
He paused. For a man, this was a humiliating thing to have to admit, even to his best friend of many years. “She didn’t want me to kiss her while we were under the mistletoe, as Joey called it.”
“That’s supposed to mean she ain’t looking? Sounds like she just ain’t looking for you .” Marsh took a long swallow of beer before putting the mug down quickly. “Hey, what made you think you should kiss her, anyway? You’re not usually moving this fast, Dustin. I’m surprised at you.”
“It was Joey’s idea,” Dustin said. “He pointed out our location, asked if I had to kiss her, and damn my soul if the thought didn’t appeal to me before I realized how stupid it was.”
“You were actually going to do it?” Marsh’s eyes were round.
“Well, I’m not sure. But I was giving the idea some thorough consideration.”
“And while you were pondering this life-altering matter, the lady in question made good her escape.” Marsh hit the bar with his palm, laughing uproariously.
“I wish she’d thought it was so funny,” Dustin complained. “Instead she looked like somebody’d given her a whack on the rear.”
“Uh-oh.” Marsh paused to wipe his eyes. “And your pride took a meltdown.”
“Well, my mother was in the room, and—hell, yeah. It was awkward.”
“I wish I’d been there.” Marsh shot his friend a look filled with laughter. “Don’t take it so seriously, Dustin. It caught her off guard as much as it did you. And if she’s trying to get over a fiancé, then she isn’t going to be in the mood to be kissing anyone for a long time.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her.”
“No. I didn’t say that.” Marsh wrapped his hand around his empty mug, giving it a series of light thumps on the bar. He took the beer the waitress handed him, too deep in his
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