Clint popped the top off of a Kentucky Ale and slid it across the bar to Noah Falcon. The tavern was filling up fast, and there was a festive feel in the air that had everybody abuzz with conversation and laughter. Evidently, Christmas Carol Karaoke Night was a popular annual event in Cricket Creek. There were even prizes to be awarded.
“Hey, let’s set up a time to get together and talk,” Noah said.
Clint leaned closer to the baseball legend and nodded. “I’d like that. I’m living over at the high-rise across from the stadium.”
“Good deal,” Noah said. “Ty McKenna is home watching his kid tonight, but I’ll introduce him to you next week.”
“Thanks, I’m looking forward to it,” Clint said. Noah Falcon was a hometown hero in more ways than one. First, for being a major-league baseball superstar and then for being a soap-opera heartthrob, but mostly for building the baseball stadium that brought prosperity back to Cricket Creek. Clint had once dreamed of following in Noah’s footsteps, well, except for the soap opera part, but he was really looking forward to this opportunity. The Cricket Creek Cougars were a step below the minor leagues and competed in an independent professional baseball league designed to give players a chance to play the game and get noticed by scouts for the big leagues. Many of them either had gotten cut at the higher level or, like Clint, never got the shot to prove themselves at the higher level.
Clint slid a couple of beers over to another customer and then turned to his father, who was mixing a martini. “It’s getting packed in here. When does the karaoke begin?”
“As soon as Mia Patrick steps up to the microphone and gets things under way.”
“Isn’t she also the public relations director for the Cougars?”
“Yeah, and married to Cameron Patrick, a Cougar player who got drafted into the minors and is doing quite well, I might add. She’s cute as a button but a tough little cookie when it comes to business. Got me to buy a big ol’ sign advertising Sully’s out in center field. Oh, here she comes now.”
Clint looked over to see a cute blonde hurrying to the microphone. She was wearing a sparkling silver dress and high heels that looked impossible to walk in, much less hurry in. “Good evening, everybody, and welcome to the third annual Cricket Creek Christmas Carol Karaoke party!” Beer bottles and glasses were raised, and a loud collective cheer went through the crowd.
“I just want to remind everybody that there is a big box for canned goods right here behind me.” She gestured overhead with her thumb. “We want to stock up the food bank for the holidays. And if you didn’t already know, and I’m sure you do because I don’t shut up about it, Heels for Meals—my charity with my friends Olivia, Jess, Madison, Sunny, Violet, Bella, Nicolina, and Myra—is going strong over at Violet’s Vintage Clothing or you can access us online. Ladies, we’ve got a nice collection of donated designer shoes for sale just in time for the holiday season! All of the proceeds will go directly to local families in need of some extra help during Christmas and throughout the entire year.
“That said, here are tonight’s karaoke rules. If you want to come up here and sing a song, it will cost you five dollars, the money going to Pete Sully’s charity, Toys for Tots and Teens. Noah Falcon, Ty McKenna, and my dad, Mitch Monroe, have gotten together to donate lots of prizes including hats, T-shirts, and the grand prize of season tickets to the Cricket Creek Cougars baseball games. We’ve also got dinner at Wine and Diner, jewelry from Designs by Diamante, toys from A Touch of Whimsy, just to name a few. So dig into your wallets and whet your whistle. Oh, and if you have a little bit too much fun, if you know what I mean, there is Santa’s sleigh . . . well, Santa’s minivan, out front ready to shuttle people home.
“And let’s not forget about the five bucks for a mistletoe kiss. If you’re under the mistletoe and you hear three dings from the tip bell over at the bar, you have to stand there and wait for your kiss from the person who put up the five bucks . . . unless you want out of it—that will cost you ten.” She waited for the whistles and applause to die down. “Let’s get this party started!”
Clint joined the crowd and applauded. He leaned close to his father and said, “Wow, I’m impressed.”
Pete nodded. “Our little town bands together and does big things.”
“I agree,” Clint said. He would have added more, but when he glanced over to the front entrance and saw Ava enter with Ronnie, the rest of what he was going to say evaporated in his brain. They paused at the coat check his dad had set up to accommodate the crowd, and when Ava slipped off her long leather jacket, Clint caught himself staring. She wore a tan skirt that hit above the knee and a shimmery gold button-down sweater that exposed the smooth column of her neck and just a hint of cleavage. Her hair was piled up in a loose bun with just a few loose tendrils caressing her face. Her jewelry was minimal, and she wore dark brown leather boots with chunky heels that added to her height. The look was timeless, classy, and yet Clint didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman look so damned sexy.
“When you pick your jaw back up off the floor, I could use two Bud Lights,” Pete requested.
Clint nodded absently to his father, not hearing a word he’d said because in that moment, Ava looked over at him. When their eyes met she didn’t look away, but held his gaze. A slow smile spread across her face, making Clint’s heart thud. Something had changed.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake—and I do mean me,” Clint’s father grumbled and nudged him out of the way so he could grab the beers. But then Pete must have spotted Ava looking at Clint. He grinned. “Well, I’ll be . . .”
“We’re packed. Where’s she going to sit?” Clint asked, worried that Ava might leave before he had his chance. But then a group of girls sitting at a round table over in the corner waved to her and Ronnie.
“Go on over and say hi. I’ll hold down the fort here at the bar,” Pete offered.
Clint shook his head. “I’ll wait until they get settled before I head over there,” he said. In truth, he needed time to gather his wits about him and figure out something clever to say.
“Okay. Let me know when you want to get your mistletoe kiss. It’s over there . . .”
Clint looked over his shoulder to where his dad was pointing. “Seriously? At the hallway to the bathrooms? You can’t avoid going under it.”
Pete chuckled as he handed another beer to Noah Falcon. “I know. At some point you have to put yourself at risk, right, Noah?”
Noah laughed. “You got that right.”
Clint shook his head and looked over at Noah Falcon. “It’s for a good cause. I’m guessing it becomes pretty popular later in the evening. But I’d sure hate to get turned down with the ten-buck rule.”
“Well, unless you’re married,” Noah said with a laugh. “Olivia is over there sitting with Myra, Jessica, and Madison. She’d be pissed if another woman tried to kiss me, so I’ve got a slew of tens in my pocket.” He patted his jeans.
“Who came up with this mistletoe craziness?” Clint wanted to know.
“Mia did last year,” Pete replied. “She’s a money-making machine, especially when it’s for a good cause.”
A moment later, Clint was laughing until his sides hurt when Ava, Ronnie, and her group of friends stood up and got the karaoke started with “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Ava was doing more laughing than singing, but Ronnie held her own, bringing the house down with the funny ending to the song.
Noah chuckled and pointed to the next group heading up to the microphone. “Ty is home with his son, Ben, so Jessica could come out tonight. In case you didn’t recognize them, that’s her daughter, Madison, and of course their aunt Myra, who used to run the diner until Jess took over.”
“Jessica doesn’t look too happy about singing,” Clint observed while he watched Myra and Madison all but drag Jessica up to the stage.
Noah laughed and raised his phone to film the whole thing. “Ty is going to be so sorry that he missed this.”
The trio did a very bad version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” but still got a very big round of applause.
“Hmmm . . .” Pete got out his clipboard and made a note. “Could win the worst performance,” he said with a chuckle.
When Olivia stood and started singing a beautiful rendition of “Blue Christmas,” Clint observed Noah beaming with pride. During his baseball heyday, Noah Falcon had been known to be quite the playboy, but he sure looked at his wife with adoring eyes. With that in mind, Clint looked over at Ava’s table in time to see her with her chin cupped in her palm, listening intently to the song. He thought about his dad’s recent admission and knew it to be true. Christmas is blue when you can’t spend it with the people you love the most. The first year after the divorce, Clint couldn’t bring himself to come home to a broken family and had stayed in his dorm and eaten a frozen turkey dinner, wishing all the while for his mom’s mashed potatoes and gravy. From that moment on, Christmas represented more sadness than joy. This Christmas, he hoped things would be different. His father nudged him and handed him a martini glass.
“Take this over to her, Clint. I’ll get Mia over here to help me behind the bar. She gets a big kick out of ringing the tip bell.”
Clint took the delicate glass from his father’s big hand. “Okay, but if you need me . . .”
“Go! You’ve been working your tail off all week. Have some fun tonight.”
When Clint hesitated, Noah said, “Hey, if you need some extra help behind the bar, I’ll step in for you.”
“Thanks, Noah,” Clint said.
“If you’re wondering if I’m buttering you up, I am. I played college ball with Jake Barnet and he has really good things to say about you. I really want you on my staff.” Noah winked. “Now, go get that sweet little toy store owner you’ve been staring at since she walked in.”
“I think I will.” He put the drink down for a second and reached in his pocket for his wallet. “Dad, here’s five bucks. Ring the bell when you catch Ava beneath the mistletoe.” Clint picked the glass back up, took a deep breath, and wished he had a drink of his own for a little liquid courage. He’d approached plenty of women over the years, and no one had ever made him feel nervous jitters the way he was feeling now. But they were good jitters, the kind he always felt with the bases loaded, two out at the bottom of the ninth inning. He was halfway over to the table when he saw Ava get up from her chair. His heart pounded when he saw that she was headed in the direction of the ladies’ room.
Oh boy . . .
The mistletoe kiss was supposed to happen later, after Ava had a few drinks and he’d—what was the word? Oh yeah, wooed her. Clint looked over at his dad at the bar and gave him a “don’t do it” look, but it must have been misinterpreted and he was given a thumbs-up. He saw his dad reach for the bell, almost in slow motion. If Clint didn’t show up for the kiss, Ava would stand there feeling stood up. Clint looked down at the cosmopolitan and then drained it in four gulps. A moment later, the bell rang three times, bringing a cheer from the crowd.