Page 30 of Chasing Mr. December

“That’s nice.” I rub my calf instinctively, hoping I can calm the spasming muscles there. “I need to find better ways to quiet my mind. Running used to do that for me. But it’s not the best choice if you haven’t stayed hydrated.”

Jason retrieves a bottle of water from his backpack.

“You’re always prepared to save the day, huh?” I laugh and take a hearty drink. Lowering the bottle, I return his stare.

“Here, let me?” Reaching for my leg, Jason drapes it across his lap. He begins to expertly massage my calf, gently digging his thumb into the tense muscle.Is there anything this man can’t do?

My whole body starts to relax at the feel of his tender ministrations, his warm, muscular palm gliding up and down my leg. It’s otherworldly, the sensation of having this man coasting his fingers higher and higher up my thigh with each pass. So much so, I don’t realize I’ve let out a moan until he shifts underneath me.

He’s hard. Because of me.

Sure, this happened the other night. Okay, a few times. But I assumed it was purely related to the push and pull between us. Not to mention he’s likely a playboy with a large sexual appetite that needs to be fed. I mean, that’s all this is to him, right?

All of a sudden, his nose is buried in my hair. His voice is soft as it teases the shell of my ear. “You weren’t supposed to happen.”

Was this not supposed to happen because of my brother? Am I too young? Or does he mean no one was supposed to happen while he was here?

What was I thinking getting involved with him? I should’ve protected my heart better, knowing he couldn’t wait to return home to Sycamore Mountain. Because I’m certain I’m about to crash and burn. And firefighter or not, he’ll no longer be here to save me.

Chapter 20

Quinn

The Bathtub Party Day festival has arrived. I can’t believe the big day is finally here. The gods are shining on us today with clear skies and unbelievably warm temperatures for the 5thof December. The early turnout has been better than expected. Guests are mingling about, taking in all the day has to offer.

Walking through the Winter Village, I check in with everyone to verify they have all they need. They’ve really outdone themselves, decorating their stalls in festive winter colors as well as using bath and Christmas items to pull together the theme of the day. Many of the vendors and food trucks have included red and green rubber duckies in their décor. While others offer supplies like soaps, towels, bath salts, and shower caps. I hadn’t thought of that. I type in my notes app on my phone to encourage using those next year.

Even before lunch, the smell of fried food, funnel cake, popcorn, cocoa, and peppermint permeate the air. 78 degrees or not, it smells like a Christmas festival in Magnolia Point.

As I drive my golf cart to the other end of Main Street, I marvel at the large tree covered in ornaments. A few depict animals in bathtubs while multiple rubber ducks wearing Santa hats dangle from branches as well. Clasping my hands together in delight, I make a mental note to personally thank the women’s club for their attention to detail.

As I approach the starting line of the duck race, I see the coup de grâce for the event. The boys from station 803 are on the scene with their fire engine, ladder truck, and ambulance, providing the perfect backdrop.

“Hey, Quinn.”

Looking to my left, I find Corbin and a few volunteers from the shelter with arms full of felines, dogs, as well as my friend, George, the rabbit. “Hey. Look at all of these guys.” I walk over to Henrietta and stroke her little white beard. “I hope you get a forever home today.”

“Everything looks fantastic, Quinn. Regardless of the outcome, I’m really impressed.”

“Thank you, Corbin.” Turning toward the fire truck, a large table and chairs is set up with all the calendars ready to go. One by one, each of station 803’s finest,and not so finest, come front and center as upbeat music starts to play. They each make quite the show of strutting for onlookers.

“Why don’t I help out?” Callie says as she flings herself into a seat behind the table. “I’ll take care of calendar sales and picture taking.”

“Such altruism.” I laugh.

Layton leans over and whispers something into Tripp’s ear as “Gonna Make You Sweat” by C + C Music Factory begins to play. One by one, the men of #803 take their shirts off. Even in the early hour of the day, a crowd starts to form as the men dance, shaking their hips, flexing their biceps, and posing with the animals. Before long, Callie is scrambling to keep up with sales, but people remain patient as the boys take pictures and sign calendars for anyone who requests it.

I make another pass through the festival and greet Charlie, who’s preparing to take the first set of partygoers through town on the trolley, before spotting Dad and Calvin near the concession stands. “Figures this is where I’d find you two.” I laugh.

“Best seat in the house,” Calvin says.

“Awe, honey. You’ve done an amazing job. I can’t thank you enough. And from what I saw of the crowd around the firefighters earlier, that bonus is as good as yours.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I definitely feel like I earned my keep on this one. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot two teenagers who seem to be hovering around my golf cart.Not on my watch, boys.

Hopping back in, I drive to the front entrance and carefully drag my weary body to speak with one of the volunteers. She confirms we’ve sold an enormous number of ducks for the race along the May River. Between this and the calendar sales, it’s enough to consider this day a victory. If we can get some of those sweet animals adopted, it’ll be a win-win.

“Hey, short stuff.”

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