Meeting Mr. Christmas (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jed shouldered his way through the crush in Randy’s. Friday night, and the place was heaving, the heavy aroma of beer and fried food hanging in the hot air like a fog. His mom had said he was antsy and irritable, and his dad hadn’t had to do more than look at him through narrowed eyes when he’d snapped back at his mom. With a mumbled apology and a hug, he’d gone out.

Randy’s wasn’t his first choice of hangout in town, but it was noisy and busy; it was what he needed right now, and he was sure to bump into plenty of people he knew. A few drinks, some laughs, and maybe a cute brunette to flirt with would rid him of the unsettled feeling that had taken hold and wouldn’t let go. It might even stop him thinking about how Noel’s date was going. Perhaps tonight was the night his best bud would find the man of his dreams and achieve the house, the husband, and those mini-Noels. Or the guy would turn out to be another loser, which was the more likely scenario.

He walked into one of the waitresses, almost sending the tray piled high with a pitcher of beer and glasses flying. Plastering on a big smile, some eye contact, and a bigger apology, the waitress blushed and said she hadn’t been taking notice as much as she should have been.

As he pushed his way through to the bar, people greeted him on all sides. Sheriff Morgan and his Deputy Sheriff husband Ben called out and Jed waved, not stopping but easing his way forward. There were any number of people he could talk to, any number of groups he could make himself the center of. It was what he’d come out to do, but now just the thought of making conversation he didn’t want to make just felt like too much effort. He’d have a couple of beers and call it a night.

Just as he reached the bar, a stool became free, and he grabbed it. Raising his hand for the bartender, he felt a brush against his thigh. Next to him, an attractive blonde he’d not noticed smiled up at him.

“Hey Jed, I was hoping to run into you. I’ve stopped by the store a couple times, but you’ve not been there.” Her smile grew wider, and she leaned in, displaying a full and inviting cleavage.

“I must be famous if I’ve got my own personal stalker.” He’d meant it as a joke, but it came out harder than he’d meant as she reared back.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” She flicked her hair and pouted in annoyance.

Ah, shit. Should he remember her? Had they dated?

She was stunning, but her cool blondness left him cold. He always dated small, willowy brunettes.

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t. Where do you think we met?”

“I came into the flower store, then I ran into you in CC’s. I’m Lauren.”

“Of course.” And now he did remember her. She’d been hitting on him when he’d been in the coffee shop waiting for Noel, who’d come in looking ridiculously cute with his funny hat, his face flushed from the cold and with snowflakes on his lashes.

“Maybe we could have a drink?” Lauren smiled. Jed stifled his groan. She’d gotten over her annoyance, but he hadn’t gotten over his lack of interest. He hesitated a beat too long to say something, anything, to allow them both to back out of the situation and save face.

Lauren swished her hair, making him think for a second of the horses on the ranches outside town, flicking their tails. He didn’t think she’d appreciate the comparison.

“Seems I’ve got my answer. See you around, Jed. Or not.” And then she was gone, making her way over to a group of her girlfriends, who all swished their hair in sympathy with one of their own, as they glared at him over tall glasses of Randy’s Red Rooster cocktails.

“What can I get ya, Jed?”

“Hey, Echo. Maybe something to keep pissed blondes at bay? Or maybe just a beer.”

Echo laughed. “Seriously? That kinda sounds like a first world problem to me.”

With a cool beer in hand, Jed swung around on his stool and looked out over the grill and bar.

Randy’s did nothing by halves, and Christmas decorations were no exception. Bushy garlands in lurid, neon colors hung around the walls, suspending golden angels and glittery stars. Balloons in the shape of bells hung from the ceiling, swaying in the hot and humid air, and on one wall a huge poster of a rodeo riding giant Santa grinned down at the crowd. It was horrible, and it reminded him of the Dom Santa on Noel’s Christmas sweater… which reminded him of Noel… who was on a date… the date who might end up being everything Noel was looking for.

“Fuck.” That was not what he wanted to be thinking about at all.

“Jed. Mason.”

Jed’s shoulders stiffened. It was the last voice he wanted to hear, especially when it was slurred by drink. Christopher Bastido, or Christopher Bastard as he and Noel had called him when they were all in high school together, the insult taking way too long to sink through to what passed for Christopher’s brain. He and Christopher had both been on the football team, but whereas Jed relied on skill, Christopher had used his bulk to intimidate and injure. Jed hated him as much as Christopher hated him back.

Jed took a slow sip of his beer, and an even longer time to turn around. Christopher loomed over him, and Jed wrinkled his nose. Even against the heavy background smell of beer and burgers, the man stank of booze.

“You still making all those pretty little posies?” Behind him, Christopher’s equally dumb looking little posse of followers laughed. No way were they twenty-one. Randy’s wasn’t looking too closely at the fake IDs.

“If you mean, am I still working as a trainee floral designer, then yes, I am.”

Jed turned his attention back to the packed floor. On the stage, the Cowboy Combo were tuning up, ready for the line dancing.

“Hey.” Jed winced as Christopher shouted in his ear, the man’s damp, beery breath making his stomach turn. “Where’s your girlfriend tonight?”

Jed frowned, confused for a second. Girlfriend? The jerk must have meant Cora. They’d only gone out for a short time, but the Creek was a small town, and half the townsfolk knew too much about the other half.

“Cora? We split up. Just playing the field for now.” Or not, but Christopher didn’t need to know that.

Christopher laughed. It was a nasty, wet, nasally kind of laugh, like it was being forced through snot.

“I don’t mean Cora, Mason. I mean that skinny little fairy with the stupid dog you’re always hanging around with, the one you always stopped from getting the beatin’ he?—”

“What did you just say?” Jed didn’t hear his own voice. He felt it, rumbling deep in his chest, burning his windpipe, tongue and lips. Pushing himself off the stool, he took a step forward. A flicker of something crossed Christopher’s puffy face, his smirk no longer so sure of itself. The guy had let himself go. Where there had been solid muscle in high school, now it had given way to fat. But Christopher held his ground, because he had his little gang of hangers on to impress.

“You heard what I said.” Christopher’s eyes shifted, and sweat beaded above his upper lip. “Dirty little fairy boy. I saw the way he looked at you, and the way you looked right back at him.”

Jed leaped forward, only wanting to punch that grin off Christopher’s sweating, ugly face, only wanting to stop those words coming out of his beer rancid mouth. Christopher stumbled and fell back, as clumsy as he was stupid.

“You talking ‘bout beatings, Christopher? How ‘bout you taking one from me?” Jed pulled his arm back, his fist tight. Christopher was going down, and he was going to go down hard.

A pair of firm hands wrenched Jed’s arm aside and pulled him away.

“Get the fuck off me,” he growled as he struggled to free himself, the raging urge to pummel Christopher’s face to a pulp burning through him like a fever.

“Not unless you want a night in the slammer.”

“I don’t give a fuck. ” Jed struggled to free himself from Sheriff Morgan.

“Not the best Christmas gift for your mom and dad.” Arlo, his voice as calm and steady as his grip on Jed’s shoulders was sure and solid. “He’s gone. Look.”

In his blind fury, Jed hadn’t seen Christopher being hauled away by security, but the heat of anger cooled just enough to see Christopher being literally thrown out the door and falling face first into the snow before the doors swung closed. His tiny group of hangers on were nowhere to be seen. The adrenaline rush receded, and Jed slumped back against the stool as the crowd, which had parted when Christopher was dragged through it, merged together again. The Cowboy Combo struck the first chords, and everybody cheered and jostled for their place, getting ready to dance. It was as if nothing had happened. A beer was thrust into his hand.

“A night in jail wouldn’t have been worth it, son. Not over somebody like Bastard. I mean Bastido.”

Jed tried to glare at Sheriff Morgan, but he’d lost even the energy for that.

“Reckon you did Randy a favor, Jed. He can now officially ban him from coming back.” Sheriff Morgan shook his head. “That boy’s heading for a cell, and the way he’s going, it’s gonna be in the state prison.” With a slap on the back, he was gone.

“What are you doing here?” Jed asked as Arlo settled in next to him.

Arlo grimaced. “We’re meeting some friends who are late. I’d suggested Odette’s, that new European style bar, someplace we could make ourselves heard without yelling, but…” He shrugged. “And where is Noel this evening?”

“We’re not joined at the hip,” Jed barked. Except we are… “Sorry,” he mumbled into his beer when Arlo said nothing, instead only raising a brow. Jed sighed. “He’s on a date.” He put his beer down and pushed it aside. What did Lucian call the beer in Randy’s? Cat’s piss. Yeah, that was it, and now it tasted like it, too. The whole evening was just cat’s piss.

“And you’re not. Which isn’t like you.” And why ’ s that? Arlo’s penetrating gaze seemed to ask.

“Not really interested in anybody at the moment,” Jed said, answering Arlo’s unanswered question.

Arlo laughed. “Lots of sweet things to choose from, but nothing — or nobody — quite hits the spot. Like that very pretty blonde I saw talking to you.”

Jed huffed. “Not my type. Not by a long shot.”

“So what is?” Arlo tilted his head.

“Short, skinny brunettes.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think. “But not exclusively. I’m a, er, kind of equal opportunity dater.” Why did he need to explain? Why was Arlo looking at him, a half smile lifting his lips? He felt like a lab specimen, with bright lights beaming down on him.

“I can absolutely recommend skinny brunettes.” Arlo nodded to the line dancers just below the stage. Lucian, in a cowboy hat, serious faced and as stiff as a board, dipped from side to side before spinning around and stumbling. “I have no idea where this urge to learn how to line dance has come from.”

“I think he needs to find another hobby.” The dancers turned one way, and Lucian turned another. Jed caught Arlo’s eye, and they both laughed. “I’m out of here.” Jed got up and pulled on his coat.

“Sure. Go see if you can catch that cute little brunette.”