Troping Through the Snow by Alexa Riley

“Doubt it.” I can even hear the grumble in my own voice.

Jingle Bar is the worst bar in Troping. Lucky for us, it also happens to be the only bar. It’s decorated for Christmas year-round like the rest of the town, but this place got stuck in 1975 and hasn’t budged since. The worst part is all the decorations are creepy as fuck, like something your grandmother made you put out every year no matter how much it scared the kids. Oh, and there’s karaoke, which makes this officially the last place I’d ever want to be on a Friday night.

It’s not like there’s a lot going on in town, but this isn’t my first or fifteenth choice for entertainment in Troping. Jingle Bar falls right below visiting the fish hatchery on Route 4.

The smell of stale beer, old cigarettes, and cheap perfume hits me as we open the door. Then the sound of someone screeching “Jingle Bell Rock” into a microphone.

“All right, I think that’s enough for me,” I say and turn around to leave.

North puts a hand on my back and pushes me toward the bar. “Don’t you want to say hello to my sister?”

“What? Why would I?” That’s when I see Tinsel on stage with a microphone in one hand and a cocktail in the other. “Holy shit.”

Before I know what I’m doing, I move farther into the bar to get a better look. She’s wearing a dark red sweater dress that clings to her body and is cut low in the front. I have never seen her in this dress before or anything like it. I realize my mouth has fallen open, and I snap it shut before the drool can roll down my chin.

“She’s terrible,” I say, more to myself, but I can’t take my eyes off her. Why the fuck would North bring me here to see this? He doesn't know I’m in love with his sister. There’s no way.

When Tinsel sings the last note, the crowd erupts into cheers, and I watch her laugh as she takes a bow and passes the microphone off to someone else. Before I can blink, she disappears into the crowd, and I have to find her.

North has disappeared, but I finally track down Tinsel after I push my way to the bar. By the time I reach her, she and Frostie are throwing back a shot and then sucking on a lime. Watching her full lips move like that makes me so fucking hard.

“I had no idea you couldn’t sing,” I say, and then Tinsel’s eyes meet mine.

She glares at me before talking the lime out of her mouth and tossing it over her shoulder without a care. “Who asked you, Jack-ass?”

Frostie snorts and then quickly covers her mouth like she didn’t mean to do it. Then Tinsel tries to keep a straight face, but she fails miserably as she falls into a fit of giggles with her best friend and roommate.

“How long have you two been here?” I look at the empty shot glasses littering the bar, and Tinsel straightens enough to scowl at me.

“You’re not my brother, Jack-ass.” She pokes at my chest and then makes a noise. “Your chest hurt my finger. I should write you a ticket for that.”

“For what, being too hard?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back.

Tinsel snorts and then somehow catches her ridiculously tall heels on nothing and starts to fall over. I reach out and grab her around the waist before she can faceplant, and then growl in frustration. Why do her curves have to be so fucking soft?

“Nice catch, Jack-ass,” Frostie says and then clears her throat. “I mean Jack. Sorry, she’s rubbing off on me.”

“I can see she’s a terrible influence.” For some reason I’m still holding on to her hips, but it’s a good thing because she begins to sway again.

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Tinsel is beginning to slur as she points her finger so close to my face she flicks my nose. “You with your perfect hair and body.” Then she flicks my hair too. “Just Mr. Perfect, that’s what you are, Jacky.”

“You’re drunk,” I say, and she shrugs.

“Might be, but that’s none of your business.” She turns to Frostie and holds up her hand for a high five. “Sick burn, right?”

“Totally.” She slaps her hand, and then the two of them nearly fall over.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for tonight.” I look around for North as I hear the two of them start to protest. He’s the one that dragged me out and now he’s nowhere to be seen.

“You two have fun,” Frostie says as she grabs her coat. “I promised my cousin I’d make her fresh cinnamon rolls for her gender reveal party tomorrow. I’m staying with her tonight, and she’s my designated driver.”

She waves to someone at the door, and I see Carol standing there with her round belly all bundled up. Frostie waves goodbye to Tinsel one last time, and there’s still no sign of North.

“Shit,” I say under my breath, and I grab Tinsel’s coat off the chair behind her and try to wrap her up. She doesn't need to show off this many curves—in public anyway.

“What are you doing? I’m not ready to go!” she shouts over the music. “I’ve got seven more songs to sing.”

“Not tonight.” Grabbing her around the waist, I practically carry her out of the bar with her complaining the whole time.

“You ruin everything,” she says and elbows me hard in the side. “I’m the only person in this whole damn town you can’t stand.”