Mistletoe & Bastards Read Free

bar, nursing an empty glass of red and looking at the
festive scene around me. This year’s work Christmas do was like a
suited version of Saturday night at the Hornet’s clubrooms — music
blaring, girls singing badly and old guys in the corner reminiscing
with their ties flipped over their shoulders so as not to dip them
in their drinks. Then there were the young ones downing shots along
the other end of the bar. Not to mention, my P.A. Julie, who was
doing her best to latch onto the bike courier. He had to be about,
oh, twenty years Julie’s junior. It was worse than watching Simmo
make eyes at that big stuffed bear in the clubrooms after he’d had
a few.
    Shaking my
head, I gazed into my glass. It was like being in a nuthouse at
this time of year but I supposed the Christmas season was like
that. People behaved in unpredictable ways. They used the
photocopier to take pictures of their bums; they wore ridiculous
outfits around the office that they wouldn’t be seen dead in any
other time of the year; they sang Christmas tunes even if they
couldn’t sing. Bloody loons. They were all insane.
    “Hey Mel.”
    And case in
point.
    I looked up
from my glass as Johnny sidled up to the bar and sat down on an
empty stool beside me. He’d changed from his office attire and was
wearing a pair of dark denims and a deep red t-shirt that, despite
the fact it showed every rippling muscle in his torso, was
overshadowed by the slogan, Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas
is your list of naughty girls…
    Fabulous. All I
needed was for Johnny to jump on the festive bandwagon. Who the
hell was I going to not give a shit about Christmas with now?
    “Are you
kidding with that t-shirt?” I asked, ignoring his cheery hello. “Do
you purposely get off on making women loathe you?”
    “You don’t hate
me.”
    “I think you
underestimate the level of dislike I have for you, Johnny. I’m good
at keeping it hidden.”
    Johnny let me
have his sexiest smile. My insides quivered even though I told them
not to.
    “You kissed me.
More than once if I remember correctly.”
    And hadn’t that
been the mistake of the century. Sure, I couldn’t deny Johnny was a
great kisser and there was something about him that heated up every
inch of me when our lips met, but he was such a fool, an idiot and soooo immature. Seriously, the man had just whipped a Santa
hat from god knows where and was sitting next to me adjusting it on
his head. I knew it was probably another of his lame attempts to
pick up women and I had to give him points for persistence but I
could never be with a man like that. I’d spend my entire life
cringing in corners.
    Seemingly
unperturbed by what I supposed was the disgusted look on my face,
Johnny pulled a flat red box tied with shiny green ribbon from the
small backpack at his feet. He held it out. “For you, my
sweet.”
    “What’s this?”
I glanced down at the box. It was quite large, with a gaudy red
bauble perched on top of the bow. I was almost too afraid to look
inside.
    “I thought you
might like to join the rest of the world. In case you hadn’t
noticed, it’s Christmas. You’re meant to be happy.”
    It was a sweet
gesture, and not one I’d expect from a man who spent his Saturdays
pummelling other men into the mud and then drinking beer with them
afterwards. But that was Johnny for you. One minute he was behaving
like a five-year-old and the next he was being very sweet and
genuinely charming, so much so that at times he could pass for a
man who cared a damn.
    “What have I
done to deserve this?”
    “Nothing. You
never do anything. You’re just you. Bitch from hell—”
    A small smile
tugged at the edges of my mouth. That much was true. I had been a
bit of a cow lately — okay, so I was a cow most of the time. But I
was a woman in a man’s world. I’d been let down by the one man who
meant more to me than anything. I had a lifetime mistrust of men
that had hardened my heart to the point where it was