A Chase For Christmas

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“The three penguins standing on the snow and drinking hot chocolate. Think you can paint those?”

“No problem. What color should their hats and scarves be?”

She pointed to one of the scarves. “If you look closely, you’ll see I noted the color in pencil. The paints and the brushes are already laid out.” She nodded her head to the nearby table covered with a tarp.

“Cool. I promise to stay in the lines.”

“I’m sure you will. I’m going back over here to finish the skating penguins. Let me know if you need anything.”

They worked in silence, and she was grateful. She’d glance at him every now and then, amused at his full concentration on making sure he was indeed staying in the lines. She was impressed by his attention to detail and the fact that he was doing a great job. When he attended the paint party last year, she’d noticed he was very adamant about his painting being perfect. And even though he wasn’t an artist, he was still an artistic and creative person, and it showed through in the over-the-top graphics on his video games.

After a while, the silence became irritating because she’d grown accustomed to painting to music. She decided to tell him about an idea she had.

“Prez, I was thinking since the children know Hope, I could add her to one of the murals. Maybe on one of the small stand-alone walls in Santa’s Village. That way you can keep it afterward.”

He turned his head toward her, and a sincere and delicious smile formed on his face. Dang it, maybe I should’ve sent it in a text message at a later time, she thought. The man was absolutely glowing with happiness at her suggestion, making him scrumptious all of a sudden.

“I love that idea. Do you need Hope to pose for you?”

“Um...no, but if you have pictures of her, that would be great.”

“Sure, I’ll text them to you and perhaps take a few more when I get home.”

“Thank you.” She stopped painting and strolled over to him. He’d just finished one of the penguins. “That’s looks awesome. You’re a pro, Prez.”

“Thank you. You know, we may be here awhile. How about I order some dinner for us and have it delivered? It’s almost six o’clock, and I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“That sounds great. I don’t know this side of town, so I’m not sure what restaurants are over here.”

“Not a problem. I’ll have one of my assistants pick it up.” He set the paintbrush down and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “So, just pick any restaurant in the city. Do you like Ruth’s Chris Steak House? I’m in the mood for surf and turf. I may order something from there for me, but wherever you want is fine.”

“Oh...okay.” For a second, she’d forgotten the man was a multimillionaire with access to anything he wanted at any time he wanted it. She was thinking pizza, maybe a burger, with a soda in a red Solo cup. He was thinking steak and lobster with champagne in a crystal glass.

“I like steak...um...so that’s fine.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“You hesitated. What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Honestly, I was going to order a pepperoni pizza with a salad from the pizza place I passed around the corner before you showed up. They deliver.”

“Done. I’ll be back.” He punched some numbers on his cell phone screen and jetted toward the lobby area.

She strolled back to her part of the mural and prayed he would be gone for a while so she could catch her breath and think straight. Preston Chase was becoming more and more of a distraction to her. In the past few days, she’d seen and conversed with him more than she had in the year she knew him. They weren’t friends. He was just Tiffani’s big brother. On the occasions when she did see him, it was only for a few moments. He’d compliment or flirt with her, and she’d brush him off and not think about him until the next time she saw him or his sister mentioned him. And now here she was, working on his project and getting to know the man Tiffani always said he was. Considerate. Compassionate. Caring. Blythe figured of course he was those things to his family because he loved and cared about them, but for the last few days, she was seeing him act that way to others, as well. But that didn’t mean she was going to act upon the possibility that she had an innocent curiosity crush on him. Crush? she thought as she laughed out loud. I’m a grown, thirty-year-old woman. I don’t have a crush on him. Besides, his niceness doesn’t erase the fact that he is a bachelor who loves his playboy lifestyle.