Chapter Two

Mark

T his girl is a train wreck.

Beautiful, sure, but a train wreck nonetheless. Not only is she drunker than Old McLanahan when he gets into an argument with his wife, but she’s actively trying to convince everyone here to dance with her.

And like a train wreck, I can’t look away. I try to ignore the scene going on when I see her dancing with a guy who looks to be in his fifties. Try to clean the bar and do anything but look at her. But I can’t. My eyes keep drifting toward her. Don’t want it to. But it’s impossible.

She looks like Bambi on ice out there, almost taking the poor fucker clung to her arm down when she almost trips. She quickly fixes herself and keeps on dancing like no one’s watching. Everyone’s watching though. Every eye in here is on her as she lets go and lets the alcohol do its job.

“Time out,” he breathes out, clearly winded. “You’re going to kill me if you keep that up.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she slurs, shit-faced drunk. Jesus . “One more dance. ”

The old man drops down into the booth and shakes his head. “I’m out.”

I watch as she sighs, and then turns her eyes on the other men in here. They all shake their heads, turning away from her.

She sighs again, defeated and very, very drunk, and I almost feel sorry for her.

Almost.

Until I see her eyes lock on mine and a promising glint sparkles in them.

“Don’t even think about it, Bambi,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes down at her.

“Please?” She blinks those long eyelashes at me, and I turn around, avoiding eye contact. She probably has some kind of voodoo she does with her eyes that makes every guy do whatever she wants.

Ain’t gonna let that happen.

No way in hell.

“Please?” she says again, popping out from behind me.

“What did I say about being back here?”

She just shrugs, smiling again when I meet her eyes. “I’ll leave if you dance with me.”

“No,” I repeat for the umpteenth time.

She blows a raspberry. Classy . “You’re boring.”

“Fine by me,” I reply with a grunt, reaching for the empty glasses on the bar.

“It’s just one dance. C’mon, you grumpy old man,” she says, tugging on my hand .

That makes me freeze, and I turn my head, arching a brow at her. “Old?”

“ So old,” she repeats again with a teasing smirk on her face.

I squint down at her tiny frame. “I am not old.”

“Yeah?” she asks, turning around with that sweet smile of hers as she pulls me into the middle of the bar. “Prove it.”

“I’m not dancing with you,” I say as I let her pull me onto the dancefloor. “No fucking way, Bambi.” She might have fooled the other guys here with her big brown eyes but it sure as fuck won’t work on me. I don’t dance .

She drops her eyes, frowns, and fuck, it tugs at my heart. What the hell ?

“I’m working,” I say, trying to get out of this ordeal without getting that frown back on her face.

She raises her eyebrow, looks around the bar, and giggles. Giggles . The girl fucking giggles. “There’s no one here.”

I rip my eyes away from her and look around, seeing that she’s right. The place has emptied out, with the exception of two guys at the back. They seem busy though. They wouldn’t need any drinks. I could just do this one—

No. Fuck. I’m not caving in. I don’t care that she looked like an abandoned puppy when I said I wouldn’t dance with her. I don’t care that she got stood up by some fucking idiot. I don’t care about how happy she looks right now .

I’m not fucking doing it.

But when she starts to wave her arms and move her hips, tugging on my hand, I don’t push her away. I just let her.

Fuck.

“It’s fun, right?” she says with a grin as she dances around me—not well, I might add—and dances to the music playing in the bar.

It’s an old song Charles used to play around here, but Bambi doesn’t seem to care. She spins in a circle, waving her arms, and bumps into a few glasses on the table, knocking them onto the ground.

“Ah!” she yells, shocked by the noise of glass breaking.

“Jesus,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. Like I said. A train wreck.

She brings her hands up to her face, her eyes wide as she takes a step back. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Why don’t you come over here and sit down?” I shouldn’t have served her those drinks. I found it a little weird that she was on her own and kept asking for drink after drink. Never seen her around here before, and a girl like her doesn’t look like she drinks much. But once I knew about the blind date and saw how upset she was, I should have cut her off.

Now I have a drunk Bambi breaking my dishes on my hands.

The glass crunches under her heels as she steps over it and sits down on the chair I pulled out for her .

“Are you hurt?” I ask her, my eyes drifting down to her bare legs in a tiny black skirt she wore for some guy who never even bothered to show up.

She shakes her head, but I see a grin slowly spread across her face. “I knew I could get you to dance with me.”

I blow out a breath. “You’re a brat.”

She shakes her head in an adorable manner I fucking hate. “I’m smart.”

I tilt my head at her. “You’ve done some not-so-smart things today, Bambi.”

“Why do you keep calling me Bambi?” she asks with furrowed brows. “My name’s Holly.”

Holly. Of course.

“Had to name you something,” I say with a shrug.

Her brows dip. “And you chose Bambi?”

“You looked like Bambi on ice out there, sweetheart.” Her forehead creases, looking like she’s deep in thought. “Are you okay?” I ask her, wondering if she hurt herself on the glass.

She nods. “Mhmm. Just thinking.”

“About?” I ask, lifting off my knee to sit down on the chair beside her.

“How I’m probably going to be alone for the rest of my life.” Her face drops and the sight pulls at my chest.

“That won’t happen,” I assure her.

Her head lifts, and her glassy eyes meet mine. “How do you know?” Her eyes widen, lighting up as she lets out a loud gasp. “Are you my Christmas angel who’ll help me find love? ”

I lift a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” She grins. “Like in Hallmark movies.”

“Never watched them.”

“Of course you haven’t. So, you’re not my Christmas angel?”

Don’t even know what that means. “Afraid not.”

“Then you’re my Christmas Grinch,” Holly says, smiling up at me. “I’m here to make you believe in the magic of Christmas again.”

I shake my head at that. “Don’t think you can do that.”

“I can,” she says with conviction. “I got you to dance, didn’t I?”

My jaw clenches. I can’t even deny that, because… she did. “You’re not going to be alone,” I tell her instead.

“You have a lot of faith in me, dear old friend.”

“Not your friend,” I say with an arched brow. “Or old.”

“It’s been twenty-four years since I was born, and I’ve never had a boyfriend,” she tells me with a laugh I can tell is strained. “How sad is that?”

“You’re still young,” I assure her. “You’ll find somebody.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “This was the third date I’ve been on this month, and I got stood up,” she admits, making me freeze.

Shit.

Her eyes find mine, and vulnerability shines in them. I could be honest and tell her that the odds aren’t great. That having three failed dates in less than a month seems bad, but I hate the thought of being the reason for that sad look on her face.

“He’s an idiot,” I choose to say because it’s the fucking truth.

“He is?” she asks, looking up with hope in her eyes.

“Well… based on tonight, maybe he saved himself,” I joke. She laughs along, looking up at me, waiting for me to continue. “But yeah, he’s an idiot. You’re pretty funny, Bambi.”

Her eyebrows lift. “I am?”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you going to ask that after everything I say?”

She laughs a little until it settles down, and she looks deep in thought. “How about you?” her small voice asks. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

My jaw tightens.

“Oh,” she says, widening her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

Don’t want to talk about her. “Weren’t we talking about your tragic love life?”

She sighs. “Distract me? Please.”

“Yes,” I tell her. “I’ve had a girlfriend.”

“And?”

“Didn’t end well,” I confirm with a shrug, not wanting to get into it.

She nods, sympathetically. “Well, at least you’ve had one. You have me beat.”

“You’ll get there,” I reassure her .

The girl is fucking beautiful. A little crazy, loud, and a handful, sure, but beautiful. There are millions of guys who’d love to be with someone like her.

“You really believe that?” she asks, glancing at me from the side.

“Yeah,” I confirm with a nod. “I do.”

She furrows her brows and looks up at me. “But you don’t even know me.”

I press my lips together. That’s true. Hardly know the girl. Up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know her name. But… “Don’t need to.”

“You’re that confident?” she asks, sounding hopeful. Almost like the idea of someone wanting to date her is preposterous.

“Very,” I tell her, staring right into those chocolate-brown eyes.

She shifts in her chair, facing me with an excited expression on her face. “Then maybe you can teach me.”

My eyebrows raise. Don’t like the sound of that. “Teach you?” I ask her, wondering what the hell she means.

“Yes,” she confirms, nodding. “You can teach me how to date. I’m hopeless.”

My brows lift. “And what makes you think I’m an expert?”

She lifts her painted fingertip and circles it in the air, pointing it at me. “You’ve been in a relationship before.”

I let out a deep sigh. The alcohol definitely hasn’t worn off. “Were you not listening when I said it ended badly? ”

“I don’t know anyone else that could help me,” she admits with a frown. “My best friend has been married since she was five—”

“A little concerning.”

“And whatever it is I’m doing clearly isn’t working,” she continues, locking her big brown eyes on me. “So…”

Nope. Not a chance in hell. I don’t even know what she wants me to do, but the words ‘teach me’ do not sound good. “Maybe if you didn’t ambush people into dancing…” I joke, but she drops her head onto my shoulder. My body tightens and I try to move her. “C’mon. You need to go home.”

“Why?” she asks, glancing up at me with droopy eyes, looking like she’s less than a minute from falling asleep.

“Because the sun is starting to rise,” I say dryly.

She lets out a soft laugh and slaps me on the chest lightly. “You’re funny,” she says, chuckling.

“You’re drunk,” I point out, trying to ignore the way I like the sound of her laugh. “Anything is funny to you when you’re this inebriated.”

She shakes her head, screwing her face up before she opens her eyes. “I’d think you were funny if I was sober too.”

My lips twitch. Kinda like that. A sigh leaves my lips, and I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone,” I tell her.

Holly’s lips curl into a smile. “If you wanted to take me on a date, all you had to do was ask. ”

I shoot her a glare. “Do you have anyone I can call to come pick you up?”

She shakes her head, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. “I was just going to get a cab,” she says, which makes me freeze.

“Yeah, that’s definitely not happening.” She’s drunk as hell and friendly as fuck. There’s no way she’s getting in some stranger’s car this late at night.

“You’re so serious,” she says, pinching my cheeks. “You should smile more.”

I move her freezing-cold hands from my face and place them on her lap. “I’m good.”

“Have you ever smiled?” she asks, arching her perfectly shaped brow at me.

“Didn’t you say you had a best friend? Can she come pick you up?”

“I bet I could make you smile,” she continues, clearly ignoring me.

I glance back at the drunk girl in my bar. “What’s your friend's name, Bambi?”

“Funnel Cakes.”

I blink, trying to figure out if I heard her correctly. “Huh?”

“Funnel Cakes,” she says again. “That’s her name.”

She’s fucking with me… right? “Her birth name?”

“Of course not.” She blinks. “It’s a nickname.”

“Ok…” My brows furrow. “Why Funnel Cakes?”

“Well…” Oh boy. Why the hell did I ask? Holly crosses her legs, my eyes drifting to them without thought. I tear my eyes away and look up at her instead. “ I met her at a carnival when we were ten, and she was getting a funnel cake, and it just… stuck.”

“And how long have you known her?” I ask.

“Fourteen years,” she replies, tilting her head. “Why?”

I shake my head. “You never thought to change her contact name after all these years?”

“What?” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “No. How would I know it’s her?”

Is she… serious? “Maybe by using her name?”

Holly screws her face up. “No, that would just confuse me.”

What the fuck am I doing arguing with her. I glance down at her phone and scroll until I see ‘Funnel Cakes’ and press call.

“Hey, are you on your way back home?” her friend asks when she answers.

“Not Holly,” I clarify. “My name is Mark, and Holly here drank a little too much, so I think it’s best for someone to come and pick her up.”

“Oh my god. Honey, wake up.”

I hear a male voice groan. “Huh?”

“Wake up,” Funnel Cakes repeats.

“Is the house on fire?”

“No.”

“Then let me sleep, woman.”

I hear the bed sheets ruffle. “Wake up. We need to go pick up Holly.”

“What?” he groans. “What time is it? ”

“Two AM,” her friend tells him. Fuck. It’s two AM already? I look down at Holly, seeing her start to drift off.

“What the hell is she still doing there at two AM?” he asks. “The date was at nine.”

“Hate to interrupt,” I say, clearing my throat. “But her date never showed up, so she just stayed here and drank, and now, she’s halfway to sleep.”

“I knew it,” her friend says. “I should have known your friend was an asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole to me.”

Funnel Cakes groans. “Why the hell did I marry you?”

“For the money,” her husband replies dryly.

Jesus Christ. I think Holly might actually be the normal one between her friends.

“Mark, was it?” Funnel Cakes asks.

“Yep,” I affirm, pinching my nose when I see Holly slobbering on the table, fast asleep.

“Okay, great. We’ll be there in ten.”

She hangs up the phone, and I place Holly’s phone on the table, moving her soft brown hair out of her face.

“Holly,” I say, softly, hearing her groan as her eyes flicker open. “Wake up. Funnel Cakes is coming.”

“The snack?” she asks, delirious.

“The friend,” I clarify, this whole thing sounding ridiculous.

“Oh.” She lifts her head and looks around at the empty bar. “I’m so sorry I stayed so late. You probably wanted to close earlier than this.”

“It’s fine,” I assure her.

Her pink lips lift into a smile as she watches me for a beat. “You’re a softie, aren’t you?”

“No.”

She shakes her head softly, her eyes on mine. “I think you are,” she sings, a bright smile on her face.

“It’s the lack of sleep,” I tell her dryly. “And the alcohol.”

Her shoulders relax. “I had fun tonight.” She smiles, subtly fixing her hair that’s a little crazy since she was falling asleep on a hard wooden table. “Even if I did get stood up.”

I narrow my eyes. “I repeat, an idiot.”

A light chuckle leaves her lips. “I can’t wait for you to be my dating coach.”

“I don’t even know what that is, and I never agreed to that.”

She laughs again, a smirk on her lips. “But you will.”

“I won’t.”

She doesn’t reply, just smiles and lifts her shoulder in a shrug.

“We might not see each other again,” I tell her, even though the thought of that actually happening brings a strange feeling to my stomach.

“Then give me your number,” she demands, handing me her phone.

I blink down at her, her phone heavy in my hand. “You want to see me again?”

She tilts her head. “Of course. How else am I going to get in touch with my dating coach? ”

“I’m not…” I drift off, not finishing the sentence. Fuck me, she’s going to convince me to be her dating coach, isn’t she? “Fuck it,” I say, typing out my number in her phone. “Any special nickname you want?”

Her face brightens up with a smile as she mutters, “Grinch.”

“Of course,” I mutter as I type out the name.

The door opens, and I snap my head up, feeling the cold breeze. “Oh, thank god you’re not dead,” a woman, who I assume is Funnel Cakes, says, standing at the door. My eyes drift to her very pregnant belly as she walks toward me and Holly. “Thank you for taking care of her,” she says. I nod as she lifts Holly out of the chair and interlinks their arms. “Come on,” she tells Holly. “Henry’s in the car, and he’s pissed I woke him up.”

“My date sucked,” Holly tells her friend.

“I know,” she replies, smoothing down her hair. “I already gave Henry an ear full for setting you up with that asshole.”

“He didn’t even show,” Holly continues. “I wore my sexy panties and everything.”

“Oh Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, pinching my nose.

“His loss,” her friend says.

“And then I met Mark,” Holly says, turning to look at me behind her shoulder.

“I see that,” her friend says, glancing back at me.

“And he was so nice to me,” she says, turning away from me.

Her friend, however, keeps her eyes on me as she furrows her brows, and I shake my head. “She’s exaggerating.”

“He’s soooooo sweet,” Holly says.

Funnel Cakes narrows her eyes. “He doesn’t look sweet.”

“I’m not,” I affirm.

“He is,” Holly says, nodding. “He’s such a big softie, you wouldn’t believe.”

Funnel Cakes’ eyebrows shoot up, unconvinced, as she turns around, facing Holly. “Is he?”

“No,” I interrupt.

Holly nods, clearly not listening to me. “Yep. And he’s going to help me get a date.”

“Really?” her friend asks, sneaking a glance back at me.

“Again,” I say dryly with a shake of my head. “No.”

“Mhmm,” Holly continues, smiling up at her friend. “I can’t wait.”

Her friend lets out an unconvinced laugh, and turns her around, heading toward the door. “Okay, let’s get you into bed. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she says. “Bye, Mark!” Holly shouts before she walks outside and the door closes behind her, leaving the place completely empty.

“Bye, Holly.”