Meeting Mr. Christmas (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jed stabbed his finger on a thorn and cursed under his breath. Or he thought it was under his breath, but the glare he got from the prissy little pastor from the Hope & Joy Church told him something else. The guy left, carrying a large floral cross that looked too much like it should be sitting on top of a coffin for Jed’s liking.

“I think you could do with some tea and a Hobnob. Or several.”

Jed looked up at Lucian as he sucked at his sore finger, the question conveyed by Lucian’s raised brows a clear what ’ s got into you, you bad tempered ass?

It was a valid question, but he wasn’t bad tempered, he was confused. Confused? Jesus. The manic laughter bubbled up in him and he swallowed it down.

“Sure. Sorry. About when the pastor was in.”

Lucian shrugged. “Don’t worry about him. What I want to know is why you’re so distracted today? That’s not like you. Girlfriend trouble? Or…”

Or. Yeah, it was or , all right.

“No, nothing to do with a girl.” I kissed my best and oldest friend and I liked it way, way too much. And I want to do it again. He wanted to talk about this, needed to talk about it. He should talk to Noel, really talk to him about what had happened, but in the car home after the party they’d laughed it off, quick and awkward, before Jed had turned on the radio and filled the space between them with the heavy beat of drum and bass.

Jed licked his lips. For now, the store was quiet, only him and Lucian. The guy had less filter than a broken coffee machine, but Jed liked and trusted him and knew instinctively that whatever he said, in confidence within the four walls of the store, would stay there.

“Jed? You can tell me anything, and I promise it’ll go nowhere. Not even to Arlo.” Lucian rested his hand on Jed’s arm, his smile inviting and his eyes warm.

Jed drew in a deep breath. It was now or never. The words came tumbling out. “It’s Noel. We—we were at a party?—”

The door opened, the bell loud in the silence. The manic laughter bubbled up again, burning in Jed’s chest. He didn’t know whether to rage in frustration or thank his lucky stars, whether to throw a punch at or hug the guy with a reserved half smile on his face who wandered in. Whatever, the moment with Lucian was gone, and Jed wasn’t sure he wanted to try and reclaim it.

“Hi Dean, what can we do for you today?” Lucian asked.

“Good morning. I want a large bunch of — flowers, I guess.”

“Flowers. Hmm. I’m terribly sorry, but we only sell car parts here. Have you tried Mr. Hank Mason’s repair shop for a suitable winter themed floral display?”

Dean Hobart, the Mayor’s brother, blinked hard before his guarded, bland smile morphed into a deep and genuine laugh.

“Okay, I sure walked into that one. Guess I need some help. They’re for a… a friend, who needs some cheering up.” Dean’s polite, unreadable expression was back in place, but he couldn’t so easily hide behind the faint flush that stained his cheeks.

“I think Jed here can help you. Flowers have a language, you know. Is there anything particular you want to say to your friend?”

“Erm, no. But they like roses. Red roses. So maybe lots of roses?”

The store phone rang, calling for Lucian’s attention. “I’ll leave you in Jed’s capable hands.”

“I can make you up a lovely bouquet, mainly red roses, but with some soft pink too, to act as contrast, and some background greenery. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. My—friend, they’ll be thrilled.”

Jed got to work. It was a simple request, and one he could do on autopilot. As they chatted about everything and nothing, Jed glanced up at Dean through his lashes.

Dean’s friend. Or boyfriend. It was an open secret Dean was gay. Why didn’t the guy just own it? Why didn’t Dean come out and step away from the weird no-man's-land he was in? Because the guy’s orientation was no big deal, was it? Jeez, just about every other guy in Collier’s Creek was gay.

The second thorn of the day stabbed into Jed’s thumb.

“I didn’t realize floristry was such a hazardous occupation.” Dean nodded to the bead of blood. “Are you okay?” he asked, with genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m fine. Goes with the territory.” Jed sucked hard on his thumb pad, the bleeding already lessening. “But thanks.”

The door opened, bringing with it a blast of cold air as an older lady, bundled up in a fluffy, bright orange coat and matching hat, came in. Jed swallowed a groan. Barbie-Anne, a good friend of Geraldine and the owner of a dog that made Barky the Bastard Mutt from Hell look like a beribboned fluff ball of joy.

“Good morning, Barbie-Anne. Pookie not with you today?”

Barbie-Anne stared at Jed as though he’d just exposed himself. “I would never, ever bring my Pookie out in these devilish temperatures. How could you suggest such a thing? My baby’s home in the warm, young man. My, what a lovely bouquet.” Barbie-Anne pressed her mittened hands to her chest. “Red roses, the flower of love. My long departed hubby used to buy me red roses every single week. And who may these be for?” Barbie-Anne speared Dean with her beady little eyes.

Dean’s bland smile was back in place.

“For a friend.”

“Ah. And who is the lucky lady? Is it the Morgan girl? I saw you talking to her outside the bookstore. A pretty young thing, although it’s a shame about her lazy eye. It’s difficult to be sure what it is she’s really looking at, isn’t it?”

“No, ma’am, they’re not for Betty Morgan.”

“Then for Emma, who works in the library? I saw the two of you talking when I returned my books last week. Very cozy, the pair of you looked, if you don’t mind me saying. But she really needs to do something with her hair, don’t you think? All those dark roots on show, it’s not very feminine. And nor is that tattoo. Why would anybody want Xena, the Warrior Princess, all over their arm? I loved that show so much, still catch re-runs on cable. Young Emma must be a super fan, I guess. I mean, it’s the only explanation, isn’t it?”

“They’re not for Emma either.”

“No? Whoever she is, she’s a very lucky lady. Such an extravagant bouquet. Can I assume there will be a forthcoming announcement of an engagement in The Chronicle?”

Barbie-Anne smiled up at Dean, almost quivering for news.

Jesus, did the woman live under a stone? The best unkept secret in town: Dean Hobart, the Mayor’s gay brother. The old biddy would be waiting a long, long time for an announcement of an engagement to a lazy eyed woman, or one in dire need of a trip to the hair salon and a passion for Xena.

“Barbie-Anne. What an absolute delight, as ever, to see you. How may I be of assistance today?” Lucian’s clear, clipped, aristocratic English voice cut through the silence.

Barbie-Anne glowed and preened as she switched the bright light of her attention to Lucian and waddled over to him. “I love your accent…”

“I’m sorry about that,” Jed murmured as he attached a bow to the bouquet. “Small towns and their never ending thirst for gossip.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s the way it is. One comes to a… certain accommodation, let’s say.” A smile lifted Dean’s lips, sharper than before. “I’ve made her day, I guess, and no doubt she’ll be mentally pairing me off with every available woman aged between twenty-one and ninety in the Creek.”

“And now you’re going to make somebody else’s day,” Jed nodded to the bouquet as Dean tapped his card against the reader. “I hope your friend likes the flowers.”

“Oh, he’ll love them,” Dean said quietly, throwing Jed a quick wink as he turned and left the store.

The day got busier, giving Jed and Lucian’s feet no time to touch the ground. But, at least it stopped him brooding about Noel, and the kiss, and kissing Noel, and wanting to kiss Noel a whole lot more. It stopped him thinking about all of that, stopped his skin from tingling, stopped the butterflies flapping their wings deep in his stomach, stopped it all until Lucian turned the sign on the door to closed.

“My goodness. I hadn’t noticed the snow coming down so hard, we were that busy. Why don’t you go? I can clear up here and when Arlo arrives, I’ll press gang him into helping before he takes me to dinner.”

“Thanks, Lucian.” Home, for a shower and a change of clothes, before he called Noel, although he didn’t have a clue what he was going to say to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He’d barely got his hand to the door before Lucian called out.

“Jed? I hope you get it sorted. Whatever it is between you and Noel, I mean. He’s one of the good guys, and believe me there are too few of them around. When you find one, you have to make sure you hold on tight.”

The heat in Jed’s cheeks would have been enough to light up the whole of the store if his scarf hadn’t been covering him from his neck to his nose.

“What I said earlier, I think I was probably just overthinking things.” The words twisted in Jed’s stomach as his hand twisted the latch. Lucian pinned him with an unreadable gaze before his face broke out into a bright smile.

“Overthinking. It really is a curse, isn’t it? I’m forever doing it. But I’m sure you’re right, it’s all just… overthinking. Anyway, have a good evening, and say hi to Noel for me.”

Head down, shoulders hunched, hands rammed into pockets, Jed strode home. Overthinking. Maybe that’s what he’d been doing? Overthinking a kiss that had been nothing more than a party game. Deep in his pockets, his gloved hands formed tight fists.

Arriving home, Jed felt for his keys. Not in his jeans, not in the inside or outer pockets of his coat. He groaned. Fuck, he hadn’t picked them up as he’d fled the house and hurried for work. Again. He raised his hand to the heavy knocker, but he let his hand drop to his side before he even reached it. There was no point in hammering on the door, not when his mom and dad had left that morning, bundling Gomer into the car along with far too much luggage and a pile of gifts, to head off for a couple of days to visit with cousins on their ranch.

He stared up at the house as snow settled on his head and shoulders.

Fuck.