Bouquets and Buckles (Crimson Ridge)

by Elliott Rose

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Yeah… when you don’t work in retail, events, or hospitality, it’s fucking peachy.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll stay for your silly little party.” I tease. “But in return, you gotta help me get my tire and stealth-rescue my car.” “You sure you don’t want to just claim it got stolen? We could torch it and dump it out on a back road somewhere?” “Oh my god. Are you insane? I don’t need Sheriff Hayes on my ass, thank you.” Brad chuckles. “He’s hot. I wouldn’t mind that man being all up in my business.” From across the other side of the table, Flinn gives him an eye roll. “I’m literally right here.” “Oh, don’t pretend like you haven’t checked that man’s ass out in a pair of jeans before.”

“I gotta go, B.” “Facemasks and spilling your guts start at six.” “You suck,” I hiss. “I do. Very well, might I add. Just ask Flinn how good my sucking is.”