Page 5 of Chasing Mr. December

“Oh, yes please, darlin.”

“What’s wrong with your hands? I thought your hip was the problem.”

“Jeanette, ignore my crabby son.” He winks, the dirty old man. But I don’t care how pretty she is, I’m not looking twice at any girl in this town. Been there, done that.

“Well, on that note, I guess I’ll hit the Magnolia Market since you’re in good hands here.” Jeanette gives me a coy smile, which only fuels my desire to run.

“That’s fine. Between sitting up in this chair, a full belly, and my next dose of pain medication, I’ll probably need a nap, anyway.”

At least he didn’t say a sponge bath.

“Okay, Dad. Call me if there’s something you need.”

From behind me I hear, “Jeanette, doll, do you make house calls?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

As I make my way through the streets of Magnolia Point toward the market, I can’t help but wonder why little Quinn Patterson would’ve called me about Dad. He said he fell at home. Was shethere? And if so, why? I know he’s remained friends with Ian’s dad. Maybe they happened to be there at the time it occurred.

Regardless, it was nice of her to contact me. None of my issues with Ian were her fault. Short stuff was a cute kid. Always quiet and kind, lingering in the shadows. But it’s best I keep my distance from the entire Patterson clan. No sense dredging up old wounds.

The Magnolia Market comes into view, and I strain to look through my dirty windshield at the old store. It hasn’t changed a bit. The market is about the same size as the main grocery in Sycamore Mountain, but the offerings are quite different, given it’s a resort town. They stock more high-end products than our little country store.

Grabbing a buggy, I weave through the aisles. I don’t make it far before I realize this task will go much better with my father’s input. While he enjoys coffee each morning, I tend to stick to water or an occasional mug of cocoa. For the life of me, I have no idea what type he prefers.Does he drink decaf?Scratching the longer than usual dark scruff on my chin, I decide to purchase a mild blend for now and head to the pasta aisle.

As I scan the options, I notice a light fragrance I can’t put my finger on. It’s a mix of vanilla and brown sugar, but there’s a floral component there too. I’m not one for perfume. My mother never wore it, as she felt it competed with Mother Nature. And many of the women I encountered smelled as if they bathed in the stuff. Yet, this was more than pleasant.

I catch a glimpse of a young woman out of the corner of my eye and suspect she’s the source. With my limited view, she appears quite pretty. However, she’s not even trying to be nonchalant about her perusal of me.It’s only skin deep, lady. Much like theloyalty of anyone in this town. I’m not going to give this chick a second glance. Throwing a carton of ziti into my cart, I quickly walk in the opposite direction of the over interested woman.

Attractive or not, I need to avoid her and the rest of them like a scorching case of COVID. I’m grabbing a few things for lunch and dinner and getting the hell out of here.

Quinn

Holy crap. It’s him. That’s Jason Bristow.I’m almost certain of it. My teen crush and brother’s best friend, Jason Bristow. Okay, soex-best friend.

I silently beg my heart to stop racing before he can hear it thumping through my chest, and I make a complete fool of myself, standing here staring at him in the pasta aisle. Gah, he’s even more mouthwatering than I remember. I wouldn’t have recognized him had it not been for the briefest glimpse of his ocean blue irises out of the corner of his eyes. I’ve never seen anyone else with ones similar. They’re hypnotic.

He still wears his hair cut short on the sides, a tad longer on top. It’s almost black, with a smattering of scruff on his jaw to match. Oh, and that jaw. Chiseled to perfection. He’s beefier than I recall from our younger years. But still tall, probably six foot three or four. The biggest difference is the ink. He’s covered in it. I don’t recall any tattoos when I last saw him. It’s quite the art collection to amass in six years, I consider, as he swiftly pushes his shopping cart away from me.

Oh, how I crushed on him. Not only was he dreamy, but he was so kind. He never teased or made fun of Ian’s pesky kid sister like so many of his other friends. Other than a rare nickname, hewas nothing but sweet to me. Perhaps if he’d been a little more aloof, I might not have swooned over him the way I did.

Oh, hell. Did? I still do.

I never stood a chance with him. The almost ten-year age gap between us was an issue, even if being engaged to someone else wasn’t. He never looked at me as anything but Ian’s precocious little sister. Always looming in the corner, just to be near him.

I’m no virgin. Yet, I’m not too proud to admit I’ve never really given any guy a chance. I’m laser focused on my career, standing on my own two feet so I can handle whatever life throws my way. I refuse to depend on a man for anything. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mentally compare them all to Jason Bristow. He’s the litmus test. If I was ever to have a long-term relationship with a man, they’d have to measure up.

And no one has.

Many nights, after rejecting a would-be suitor, I considered whether the comparisons were unfounded. Had I made him into more? I unload my items at the counter, lost in my thoughts. My eyes briefly land on the tabloids. Had my version of Jason been akin to a Hollywood celebrity? Falling for them based on appearances and fictional write ups in Teen Vogue. Where, in reality, they were just as ordinary as the grocery clerk bagging my items.

When Dad alerted me to Calvin’s fall, I’d rushed to the hospital to check on him. I’ve visited Calvin quite often over the years, and knew Jason would want to be here. The very thought of hearing his voice had made my nerves as twisted as a ball of Christmas tree lights. But all of that anxiety was for nothing, ashe was too concerned with his dad’s condition to even ask my name.

I didn’t want to cause Jason any discomfort, so kept my distance after his dad’s surgery. Ever the dutiful son, I’m certain he’ll help Calvin as long as necessary, even though he’s avoided Magnolia Point like a husband dodges a mile long honey-do list. Still loyal to those he loves, despite the cost.

I bet heisall that I believed him to be. Even if you’ve been humiliated, your core behaviors don’t change. You don’t go from being the quintessential boy next door to someone cruel and uncaring. He saves people with the fire department for gosh sakes.

If only my last name wasn’t Patterson, I might have the chance to know for sure.

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