She nods and heads into the bar section, taking the only free two stools at the end of the bar. The bartender walks over to us and gives Kenzie a big smile, leaning in to ask her what she’d like to drink. He’s younger and his Christmas sweater says he’s a fan of the holiday, just like she is.

His blatant appraisal of her irritates me, but I refuse to give any thought as to why.

She studies the drink menu display for a moment before passing it to me. “I’ll have the eggnog cocktail.”

The bartender winks. “One eggnog cocktail coming up. And for you?” He barely spares me a glance before looking back at Kenzie.

“Do you have any beer on tap?”

“He’ll have the Grinch cocktail,” Kenzie butts in, thumbing in my direction.

“Done. Be back in a few.” The bartender takes the drink menu and places it under the bar then walks away.

I’m left staring after him, my jaw ticcing. “Was there a reason I couldn’t order for myself?”

Kenzie shrugs. “Just seemed fitting, don’t you think? Or would you prefer my eggnog?” Her voice is syrupy sweet. It’s clear she feels as if she has the upper hand and she’s trying to get under my skin.

Mission accomplished, but not for the reason she thinks. It’s because she’s now taking off her coat and walking over to hang it on the nearby coat hook and I get my first glimpse of what she’s wearing. Jeans and one of those ugly holiday sweaters, which seems like an oxymoron to me these days given that they’re now in fashion. Her jeans hug her hips, and with her back to me as she tries to reach the highest hook, I get an unobstructed view of her perfect arse. Round, plump, and firm. Practically begging for a man’s hands to squeeze it.

Jesus, what am I thinking? This is Finn’s little sister!

I stand and remove my own jacket, coming up behind her to help her and hang mine on the hook.

Just then, a server squeezes past. “Sorry, excuse me.”

I’m forced to move into Kenzie’s space and press my front to her behind. A quick rush of air leaves her lips, and she stills.

“Apologies,” I mumble and step back as soon as I’m able, taking her jacket and hanging it up with mine. With the discipline of a saint, I avoid the urge to shift myself in my pants.

We take our seats back at the bar as the bartender slides our drinks in front of us. Mine is bright green with a cherry floating between the ice cubes, while Kenzie’s looks like eggnog with cinnamon sprinkled on top and what looks like caramel sauce around the rim.