The Christmas Dare Page 10

  “You guys are killing me here with the suspense. Just tell us.” Tasha pressed her palms together.

  “We’re the Christmas Bards,” Sean said.

  Tasha blinked. “The what?”

  “The Christmas Bards,” Noah repeated, looking mischievous. These two were up to something.

  “Do you mean barbs?” Tasha’s forehead puckered. “Like barbed wire? Is it a stand-up comedy act? That might be okay. I like comedy clubs. Especially the uncensored ones.”

  “No.” Sean chuckled. “It’s bards, with a d.”

  “What are bards?” Tasha narrowed her eyes.

  “Poets,” Kelsey said. “Like Shakespeare.”

  “Oh, that kind of bard.” The disappointment on Tasha’s face said she thought this event sounded bor-ing, cute former navy SEAL or not. “Let me get this straight. You two hotties are members of a Christmas club that recites poetry?”

  “Something like that.” Sean grinned as if reciting poetry was the most awesome thing ever invented. “We attract huge crowds.”

  “We write our own rhymes,” Noah added.

  “So,” Sean said. “Do you two want to go?”

  “Umm, you know,” Tasha hedged. “I promised my mom I’d do a little Christmas shopping for her while I was in Twilight. I saw some cool artisan gift shops when we drove in.”

  “You can shop tomorrow,” Kelsey said, not the least bit inclined to help Tasha wriggle off the hook. “We’ll be here two weeks.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want all the good stuff to be gone.” Tasha ran a palm over her mouth.

  “Your loss,” Sean said. “We always sell out.”

  “Tasha,” Kelsey said. “Are you afraid you’ll be bored?”

  “No.” Tasha snorted and sent Kelsey a help-me-out-here stare.

  “She’s got a touch of ADHD,” Kelsey explained. “It’s hard for her to sit still if her attention wanders.”

  Tasha threw darts at Kelsey with her eyes, and said through clenched teeth, “That’s not it at all.”

  Kelsey measured off an inch with her forefinger and thumb. “You’re not the least little bit uncomfortable at the thought of poetry?” Two could play this comfort zone game. If Kelsey had to do a Christmas of Yes, Tasha should too.

  “Okay.” Tasha held up both palms, surrendering. “All right. You’ve got me. No offense guys, but poetry just isn’t my cuppa.”

  “No offense taken,” Noah said. “We’ve got plenty of fans. Don’t feel bad for skipping out on us.”

  “I’m sure you’re really good . . .” Tasha said.

  “It’ll be our pleasure to accept.” Kelsey placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, squeezed lightly. “Right?”

  “Yes,” Tasha mumbled. “All right, I’ll go.”

  “You won’t regret it.” Sean winked.

  “Hmph.” Tasha folded her arms.

  “We have to get into costume,” Noah said. “And hook up with the other Bards, to go over our routine . . .”

  Kelsey stood up and retrieved her sandals from where Noah had left them on the floor. “And we’ll go unpack and get settled.”

  “Show up at The Horny Toad Tavern just before eight,” Sean said. “We’ll arrange VIP seating for you.”

  “That’s so kind,” Kelsey said.

  Tasha linked her arms through hers and dragged her down the hall toward their room. “Oh Lord, just what I wanted. Front row seats to a poetry reading. Thankfully, it’s in a tavern. If we have to go to a god-awful poetry reading, at least there will be beer.”

  “Look at it this way,” Kelsey said. “We’re in this together. Just try to enjoy yourself tonight. I dare you.”

  “Speaking of dares,” Tasha said. “You did really well with the first one. I’m proud of you. Planting a big wet one on Noah like you did.” She paused outside their room and searched her purse for the key card. “By the way, I’ve thought of your second dare.”

  “Hmm,” Kelsey said. “What’s that?”

  Tasha opened the door, and they stepped inside the quirky nautically themed room. “You have to do something that totally embarrasses you.”

  “Like what?” Kelsey asked.

  “Your choice. Sing karaoke, wear your clothes inside out in public, dance naked in the rain—”

  “I’m not dancing naked in the rain!”

  “Get up onstage and read a poem . . .”

  “Ah-ha. You’re just trying to get back at me for getting you involved in this poetry reading.”

  “Ding, ding, ding, my BFF.” Tasha tapped the end of Kelsey’s nose. “If I have to suffer, so do you. I have the perfect poem in mind for you to recite, a limerick really. There once was a lass from Nantucket . . .”

  “You know, you’re really lucky I can’t bear to be on the outs with two people at once,” Kelsey said.

  “I know.” Tasha grinned. “I was totally counting on that.”

  Chapter 10

  In the breezy evening, Tasha and Kelsey walked the mile from Christmas Island to the marina. As they passed underneath the mistletoe-strewn bridge arch, Kelsey thought about her first dare.

  The kiss had been bold. It had been sassy and look where it had landed her.

  Having unwanted feelings about her teenage crush.

  All right, maybe not so unwanted. Noah was one hunky tall drink of water, and she was dying to slurp him up.

  Chill out. She had just gotten out of one relationship. She was not jumping into another.

  A sexless relationship.

  Yes, okay, she might be a bit sex starved.

  What about a casual fling? Hot sex and nothing more?

  Gak! To drown out the voice in her head, Kelsey hummed along with the sounds of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” wafting from the marina.

  One dare down, four to go.

  She pondered Tasha’s new challenge. What could she do that was embarrassing, but not completely humiliating?

  At least her friend had left the manner of the humiliation up to her.

  “Are you doing your second dare tonight?” Tasha read her mind as they climbed into one of the pedicabs lined up at the marina and told the driver, “Horny Toad Tavern.”

  “Imposing a time limit?”

  “Take it at your own pace, but reciting poetry would be quick, and relatively painless.”

  “You just want a bawdy limerick to break up the boredom.”

  “God yes.” Tasha pressed her palms together. “Please do the limerick.”

  “Forget the poems, just enjoy the eye candy.”

  “Sean is yummy.” Tasha sighed dreamily.

  “Do I sense a spark between you two?”

  “Baby, there’s a forest fire in my pants over that man.”

  “Eloquence, your best quality.”

  Tasha guffawed.

  The pedicab cycled through the lively town square, packed with people in period costumes turning out for Twilight’s annual Dickens festival. Literary characters strolled the sidewalks—Scrooge, Tiny Tim, Miss Havisham, the Ghost of Christmas Past, Marley . . . The smell of hot wassail, roasting chestnuts, and funnel cakes filled the air.

  On the courthouse lawn, booths were set up for games of chance—a snowball throw, elf bowling, Whack-a-Santa. There were amusement park rides for children—a small Ferris wheel, a reindeer carousel, bumper cars.

  In the middle of it all was a North Pole tent, complete with Santa on a sleigh taking gift requests from boys and girls.

  “Would you like to lap the entire square?” the pedicab driver asked. “No extra charge.”

  “Absolutely,” Tasha sang out.

  “You’re stalling,” Kelsey accused.

  “Yep. If we take our time, maybe the place will sell out before we get there. Darn the luck.”

  On each corner of the square was an elaborately decorated tree. On the west side, a flocked tree with white and gold decorations and angel ornaments, and a plaque saying it was hosted by the Presbyterian church. The north tree was filled with book ornament
s put up by Ye Olde Book Nook. The east tree, decorated by Twilight General Hospital, featured hospital-themed ornaments: Santa on crutches, Rudolph in a wheelchair, an elf with a bandaged head. The fourth tree to the south was sponsored by a pet store and covered with whimsical animal curios.

  Music bled from everywhere. Piped into the square from outdoor speakers on the courthouse. Oozed from the open doors of the stores. A delightful cacophony of competing Christmas tunes.

  Kelsey would have thoroughly enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells if Tasha hadn’t whined all the way to The Horny Toad Tavern.

  “This is going to be so boring,” Tasha chuffed.

  “Probably.”

  “I wish we could just hang out in the town square.”

  “Maybe the stores will still be open once the poetry reading is over and we can enjoy the festival a bit,” Kelsey soothed.

  “I cannot believe you roped me into a poetry reading.”

  “Hey,” Kelsey said. “You’re the one who came up with a Christmas of Yes.”

  “I blame Shonda Rhimes,” Tasha muttered and jammed her hands into her jacket pockets. “I should never have read that book.”

  “C’mon,” Kelsey said. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Famous last words.”

  “Cheer up, you’re supposed to be the optimistic one.”

  “Horny Toad Tavern,” the pedicab driver announced.

  Kelsey paid, and they turned to go inside. A line of women queued up outside the door for half a block.

  “Whoa.” Tasha stopped short. “What’s going on?”

  “Do you think there’s another event going on here as well?” Kelsey said.

  “Gotta be cheap drinks. No way are women lining up to hear Christmas poetry.”

  “Noah did mention the event is for charity.”

  “That has to be it. Generous-hearted folks getting lit.”

  Heading to the back of the line, Kelsey spoke to the woman in front of them. “Are you all here for the Christmas Bards?”

  “Oh absolutely.” The woman was in her early twenties, wore hip designer clothes and a shiny alcohol-tinged smile. “Those guys are scrumptious.”

  “Yeah,” Tasha said, “but they’re reading poetry.”

  The young woman tossed Tasha a you-dumb-bunny look and gave a knowing smile. “You’ve never seen the Christmas Bards, have you?”

  “Guilty as charged, and proud of it.” Tasha tossed her head and with an exaggerated drawl, said, “Poetry’s not my thang.”

  “You’ll change your mind after tonight,” the young woman said. “I guarantee.”

  Tasha blew out her breath and threw Kelsey a this-chick-be-psycho-if-she-thinks-I’ll-ever-dig-poetry grimace.

  The line moved quickly, but when they got to the threshold, the muscle-bound bouncer pulled up a velvet rope to block the doorway. “Sorry. We’re at max capacity. Fire code.”

  “For a poetry reading?”

  “Yep. The Bards be unreechy,” the bouncer said.

  “What does that mean?” Kelsey mumbled to Tasha, who was far hipper than she.

  “Unreechy means they are so good they’ve achieved lofty heights.” Tasha sidled closer to the bouncer. “I don’t believe that for a minute. What poets are unreechy?”

  The bouncer chortled. “You be in the woods.”

  Kelsey leaned down to whisper in Tasha’s ear. “What does—”

  “Innocent, uneducated, babe-in-the-woods. Kind of like you.”

  “Oh.”

  The bouncer folded his arms. “Sorry. No more tickets. Maxed.”

  “You said that already,” Tasha pointed out.

  Kelsey interlaced her fingers, surprised by her nervousness. “What are we going to do, Tasha? We promised Noah and Sean. I had no idea it would be this crowded.”

  “Oh well, we tried.” Joyously, Tasha turned and headed back toward the square.

  “Wait.” The bouncer raised a palm. “You’re Kelsey and Tasha?”

  “Yes.” Kelsey lifted her chin.

  “You’ve got reserved seats,” the bouncer said. “Right up front.”

  That’s right, Kelsey had forgotten Sean said the guys would reserve them VIP seating.

  “Yay,” Tasha said in a “nay” voice.

  “This way.” The bouncer unlatched the velvet rope and led them inside.

  Women packed the club. Kelsey didn’t see a single man in the audience. Odd. Yes, Noah and Sean were good-looking guys, but come on. There should have been a few literary-inclined fellows in the bar.

  The crowd was noisy, excited. On the stage, which normally hosted a live band on Friday and Saturday nights according to the posters at the entrance, a lone spotlight was centered on a single microphone. The rest of the stage was dark, the house lights still high. Behind the microphone was a single straight-backed kitchen chair.

  The bouncer led them to a table for two at the stage apron. Kelsey noticed several women shooting them jealous glances as they walked past.

  “Enjoy,” the bouncer announced and departed.

  Right after he left, a waitress appeared. “What’ll you have? On the house. Courtesy of the Christmas Bards.”

  “Two shots of Fireball whiskey.” Tasha held up two fingers. “And I’ll have whatever draft beer you’ve got on tap.”

  “And for you?” The waitress set cocktail napkins and a bowl of mixed nuts in front of them.

  “Pinot grigio,” Kelsey ordered. She preferred red wine, but her mother had indoctrinated her that when she was in social situations she should always order white wine. No stains if you spilled, and white wine didn’t discolor your teeth. “No, wait . . .”

  The server paused. “Yes?”

  “Make it pinot noir.” Take that, Mom.

  When the drinks arrived, Tasha pushed one of the shots of cinnamon whiskey toward Kelsey. “A toast.”

  “To what?”

  “Obliterating Comfort Kitty for good.” Tasha grinned and clinked her shot glass against Kelsey’s. “Bottoms up.”

  Happy that her friend had cheered up, Kelsey downed the shot.

  The house lights lowered. The crowd quieted. A few coughs, the tinkling of ice in glasses, the rustling of clothes, but no one spoke as the music started.

  An instrumental version of “You Can Leave Your Hat On” started to play. Then seven trim, fit men in Santa Claus costumes pranced onto the stage.

  Immediately, the women went wild—clapping, catcalling, whistling as if they were in a strip club. Some, in the back of the room, stood in the seats of their chairs for a better view of the stage.

  What was going on?

  Kelsey’s pulse quickened, and her palms got sweaty.

  Noah was impossible to miss. He was the tallest of them all and positioned in the middle of the bunch. He took center stage, smiling down at Kelsey.

  She swooned. He was one seriously sexy Santa.

  Sean was the first in the lineup. He sauntered to the microphone.

  The music quieted.

  With his eyes on Tasha, Sean began to recite a Christmas poem, rife with sexual innuendo and double entendres. As he went along, his voice shifted into a rap-style beat and hard-driving music began pulsing from the surround sound speakers.

  Behind him, the other Santas broke into a choreographed dance and . . . took off their fake beards to reveal their handsome faces.

  The women applauded, cheered.

  Tasha pressed both hands to the left side of her chest. “Be still my heart!”

  Have mercy! This wasn’t a poetry reading. This was a striptease! No wonder there was a sellout crowd.

  Each Santa took a turn, rapping out his poetry to the tune of instrumental Christmas music. While one Santa recited, the others danced to choreographed steps, taking off an article of clothing one number at a time.

  Kelsey’s jaw hit the floor. The closer it got to Noah’s turn at the mike, the faster her pulse ticked.

  Then he was in front of her. Bare chested by this point, swaying in tim
e to the beat.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” the crowd cheered and clapped in unison.

  Even though her cheeks were burning hot, Kelsey could not look away even if she wanted. She did not want to look away.

  Noah was mesmerizing. Each muscle in his chest and abdomen was honed and delineated. Tight and righteous. She had an overwhelming urge to scoot onstage and lick him like an ice cream cone.

  The women in the room screamed as if it was 1965 and the act was The Beatles.

  Noah zeroed in on Kelsey and clutched her gaze as he recited his poem set to a Christmas-themed rap beat.

  She didn’t hear a word of it.

  Her body was on fire. Burning. Every nerve ending tingling. She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted any man in her entire life. She had crazy images of running her fingers along those washboard abs and playing him like a musical instrument.

  Inscrutable. He knew how hot he looked, and he was proud to show off for her.

  Tasha leaned over to pinch her lightly.

  “Ow,” Kelsey said, rubbing her arm. “What was that for?”

  “To let you know that you are not dreaming. This is really happening. Your guy is a firecracker!”

  “He’s not my guy.”

  “The drool on your chin says otherwise.”

  “What!” Kelsey touched her chin.

  “Gotcha.”

  “What about your man?” Kelsey nodded to Sean who was dancing like there was no tomorrow.

  Strobe lights flashed across the stage as Noah finished his rap and stepped back into the chorus line of sexy stripping Santa poets. The group behind the microphone pivoted, putting their backsides to the audience and wriggling their butts.

  The next rhyme-spouting Bard stepped up to the microphone.

  Kelsey paid the new guy no mind. Her eyes were transfixed on Noah’s butt as he did the bump and grind in time to the music.

  Oh God, she was ogling him. If Filomena could see her now, she’d drag her out of the nightclub by her braid.

  The music turned slow and sensual. All bump and grind. No longer a Christmas tune. The men took off their shiny black belts, danced close to the edge of the stage, tossed the belts out into the audience.

  Women dove for them.

  Tasha caught Sean’s.

  Kelsey snagged Noah’s.