Page 17 of Meeting Mr. Christmas
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 saysomething, 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 takingway 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?—”
