McKenzie's Turn to Fall: A Holiday Romance

by Harlow James

  He grins playfully at me again. “Oh, that’s a good thing, McKenzie.” And then he’s pushing off the counter and slowly stepping backward. “Have a good night, Cookie Monster.”

  It’s my turn to chuckle in confusion. “You too, Dylan. Thanks for the drink. Maybe I’ll pick a cookie that’s a little less dry next time.”

  “Yeah, I think you need something a little more moist for sure.” There’s a suggestive tone behind his remark, but all I can focus on is the gleam in his eye, like he’s pleased with himself and our conversation.

  With a small wave, I head to the deli section as intended, all the while reeling over my encounter with Dylan. I know I haven’t exactly been stealth in my operations in the grocery store for the past few weeks, but it never occurred to me that there were people studying me as I try to discover the next greatest love story.

  Dylan was definitely book boyfriend material—his look, his flirtatious nature, his body that you could tell was built even beneath his clothes. But with how playful he was, something tells me I’m probably not the only woman he’s offered water to. And besides, I have work to do, not time to contemplate the young man’s motives and charming smile. He did look really young, too young for a woman approaching thirty-five, still struggling to find herself.

  You need to find your story, McKenzie. Keep your eye on the prize and not on the hunky butcher in the grocery store.

  Chapter 2

  Dylan

  “You talked to her finally, huh?” Kyle smacks my shoulder as I watch McKenzie walk away from me, my eyes trained on her ass like they have been for the past few weeks.

  I lied. Big time. It wasn’t her smile that reeled me in—it was her curves. Damn, does the woman have curves—a big ass, wide hips, and a narrow waist just perfect enough to grab onto while she rides me. She’s perfect, especially compared to the waifs I’ll meet at the pub on the weekends, or the frail little things my sister likes to set me up with.

  McKenzie has the body of a woman, and it was hard not to take notice. But then, over time, it wasn’t just her shape that intrigued me … it was the fact that she was always eating as she patrolled the store for hours, pausing every now and again to stare off into space. Then she would randomly take out a notebook and jot something down, chewing on the cap of her pen while deep in thought. I was beginning to think she was a bonified stalker until I mentioned her behavior to Marsha, my manager, and she assured me she was harmless and that she pays for the cookies she eats while she’s shopping every time.

  I mean, I’m not one to tattle tale, but I also respect small businesses and know that there are people out there who can take advantage of a small, neighborhood market.

  “Yeah, I did.” I smack the steaks down on the Styrofoam tray in front of me, pushing them to the side as Kyle grabs them and starts to wrap them in clear plastic.

  “And…”

  I roll my eyes at him. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

  “What?” he asks, full of surprise.

  “Jeez, man. What the fuck did you think happened? I flirted, laid some ground work, offered her a drink of water since I knew she had to be thirsty from eating all of those cookies.”

  “Did you call her the Cookie Monster?”

  I chuckle and then focus back on slicing more steaks. “Yeah, but I told her I’m the only one that calls her that, so don’t fucking say anything,” I chastise him while pointing my knife in his direction.

  He raises his hands in the air in defense. “Don’t worry. I won’t. I’ve just never seen someone snack while they shop like she does.”

  “I know. Remember the first time we saw her a few weeks ago? She was shoveling those circus animal cookies in her mouth like it was her job while she stared off into space.”

  Kyle laughs. “Yup. I wonder what she’s looking at when she does that? Or what she’s thinking?”

  My eyes veer down to the table in front of me as I finish slicing and slide more steaks in his direction. “I don’t know. But I’m definitely going to find out.”

  After weeks of watching this woman, I’m hell bent on knowing everything about her. Let the wooing begin.

  ***

  “Mom?”

  “In the kitchen,” she calls out as I shut the door on my childhood home and walk further inside. As I come around the corner, I see her stirring something on the stove and the smell of my favorite soup hits my nose.

  “Aw, Mom. Did you make corn chowder just for me?”

  With a flash of her grin over her shoulder, she shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “I am your favorite son, I knew it.” I walk up beside her, plant a kiss on her cheek, and then grab a Coke from the fridge.

  “Don’t go around advertising that, alright?”

  “Your secret’s safe with me. Dustin will never know,” I tease, knowing that my younger brother would lose his marbles if she ever voiced that thought out loud in his presence. And naturally, I know my mother’s joking, even though deep down I want to believe her words are true.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  My mother rolls her eyes and then focuses back on the stove. “Where else do you think he’d be?”

  My father is a bit of a work-a-holic, but he’s built a successful automotive business here in our hometown of Castle, North Carolina, and something that remarkable doesn’t come from taking many breaks. When he gets home from his business, he usually heads straight for his private shop on the back of my parents’ property where he works on his own projects in his spare time, or just hangs out in peace. His garage is sort of like his man cave, and my mother jokes that it’s actually his second home.

  “Yeah, silly question, I guess. Aren’t Robyn and the kids here?” I ask just as my nephew comes barging through the back door and my niece comes screaming after him.

  “Jaxon, give me my tablet!”

  “You’ve been on it for too long!”

  “You’re not my dad!” she fires back.

  “Well, when Dad isn’t here, I’m the closest thing to it,” he states confidently, holding the tablet just high enough over her head that she can’t reach.

  “Uncle Dylan! Tell him to give it back, please!”

  “Jaxon…”

  “Jaxon Wayne! Give me the tablet!” my sister barks as she walks through the front door with a black bag from the liquor store.

  Jaxon huffs and then hands the device over as my sister struggles to contain her temper. Usually she’s a lot more easygoing, but when her husband is deployed, the children like to help her reach her breaking point.

  “Whatever. At least she’s off of it now,” he says.

  “Well, guess what? Now you’re done with yours too. And your video games.”

  “But, Mom,” he whines as she puts her hand up to stop him.

  “I don’t want to hear it. Now go out back and tell your grandpa that you two got in trouble and he needs to put you to work.”

  “Ugh! Look what you did now,” Kylie shouts as the two of them bicker all the way out the door.

  “Jesus Christ,” Robyn mumbles, extracting two bottles of wine from the bag.

  “Bad day?” I ask, hating how stressed she seems. When I get married, I could never imagine being away from my family for long periods of time like she does with her husband. I know that’s what she signed up for when she married him, but I don’t want that life. I want to be with my wife day in and day out, wake up with her every morning and lie down next to her each night.

  It’s a future I’ve always pictured in the back of my mind, but lately is starting to become more prominent. After my last relationship flopped, I backed off from searching for my happily-ever-after for a while—until I saw McKenzie in the store, and then all of sudden my imagination started running wild again.

  “Bad week. It’s like they know the holidays are coming up and Brandon won’t be here, so they start fighting about everything. I think they need a break from each other, and I need a break too.” She sighs and then locates the corkscrew in
the drawer, opening the bottle effortlessly.

  “Well, let me take them this weekend then. We can have a sleepover, go see a movie, maybe go miniature golfing or something just to get them out of the house and give you some quiet time.”

  She peers up at me as moisture builds in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Robyn. You need a break. And it’s not like I have anything else to do,” I reply on a shrug.

  My mom smiles at me from across the kitchen as Robyn steps closer and wraps me in a hug. “Thank you. You are my favorite brother.”

  “Ah, favorite brother and son tonight? Dustin better watch his back.”

  My mother laughs and Robyn swats my chest and then swipes away a tear. “Don’t go getting all big-headed on me now. But seriously, thank you. I need it. They need it. The last few weeks of Brandon’s deployments are always the hardest.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  Robyn smirks in my direction as she pours two glasses of wine, one for herself and one for my mom. “Someday, you’re going to make some woman incredibly lucky, Dylan.”

  “I agree,” my mom adds.

  All I can do is shrug indifferently because the more time that passes, the more I become afraid that maybe I won’t find who I’m meant to be with, even though a small glimmer of hope rests in my chest where McKenzie is concerned. Finally getting the courage to speak to her this week renewed energy in my heart to make room for the possibility of love again.

  “Yeah. Hopefully someday,” I reply, reaching for my Coke, not wanting to talk about the girl that’s making me want to leap again just yet. “I’m going to go say hi to Dad before dinner is ready. Maybe help him finish a few things.”

  “Don’t be too long. It’s almost done,” my mom declares.

  “Sounds good.”

  Opening the door to the backyard, I bask in the slight chill in the air that comes with the change of the season and trudge to my dad’s shop.

  Even though I’m missing someone to share my life with, I don’t let myself forget to count my blessings where my family is concerned. My parents and siblings are the glue that holds everything together for me sometimes, and the people I know I can count on no matter what. We fight and drive each other mad like any other family, but we love hard too.

  One day I’ll have someone to share my life and family with. And maybe that person is McKenzie.

  That redhead has been running through the grocery store and my mind for weeks, and now it’s time to pursue this inkling in my gut that I have to know her. I want to hear her voice again, see her smile, figure out what makes her tick.

  But only time will tell at this point, and although the thought of putting myself out there again is terrifying, I think I’m ready for the ride.

  Chapter 3

  McKenzie

  “Yes, that’s it. You know you both love gruyere cheese. Now giggle as you bump into each other and fall in love.” I bite the head off of the Keebler elf cookie in front of me, clenching the handle of the shopping cart as I anticipate the moment finally happening.

  Two hipster-looking twenty-somethings are scouring the gourmet cheese selection in front of me, searching for their choice. I can feel it in the air, the buzz of anticipation that today is the day … today is when my meet-cute is gonna happen, I can sense it.

  The man makes his move, leaning forward to make his pick as the girl follows suit. I shove the torso of my elf cookie in my mouth and then widen my eyes, my heart racing in my chest as I watch their movements as if in slow motion.

  It’s gonna happen. They’re going to both reach for the gruyere cheese, have a good awkward laugh, and then get married right here in the grocery store one year later. They’ll invite me to the wedding because it was my cosmic telepathy that brought them together, and then they’ll name their first born child after me. I can see it all now.

  I bite my lip, waiting for them to bump into each other, just as screaming in the chip aisle draws my attention behind me.

  “I had these first!” A petite old woman yells at the younger man standing beside her, clutching the corner of the bag of chips.

  “Sorry, lady, but no. Just because you’re an old woman doesn’t mean you can take things out of people’s hands.” The man snatches the bag of salt and vinegar potato chips from her and then tosses them in his basket.

  The old woman throws her purse in her cart and then stands on the bottom of his, clutching onto the basket as though she’s a little kid that’s about to go on a ride. “I’m not getting off of your basket until you give me those chips back! Marsha!” she screams, calling for the manager of the store.

  There is a full-fledged fight going on over a bag of potato chips happening right in front of me, so naturally I bite the head off of another cookie as I watch the debacle. I’m kind of siding with the woman right now though, because I’m pretty sure I would fight someone over a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips—they really are that delicious.

  “Excuse me, Ethel,” Marsha says as she runs into the aisle. “What’s the matter?”

  “The matter is that this young man,” she points in the direction of the guy who has to be in maybe his late twenties, “stole this bag of chips directly from my hands just as I was about to put them in my cart!”

  The man’s eyes are wide as saucers as he watches the little old lady tattle on him. “Jeez, lady. Here.” He throws the bag at her and she catches it with reflexes quicker than she would appear to have. “They’re just chips.”

  “Ethel, I’m sure we have more in the back,” Marsha declares as the man shakes his head, abandons his cart, and storms off while Ethel dismounts his cart looking pleased with herself.

  “It was the principle of the matter, Marsha. Young things can’t just waltz around and think they own the store, not having any manners and getting whatever they damn well please.”

  “I agree. But next time, maybe not mount his cart.”

  “I’ll try,” she replies, clutching the chips to her chest as she retrieves her cart and starts pushing it away from the scene of the crime.

  Marsha spins on her heel, blowing out an intense breath, just as she spots me staring. “Enjoy the show? Too bad you can’t write a romance novel on that.” She winks and then walks away, alerting me to the fact that I missed the cheese selection going on behind me.

  “Shit!” I turn and see the couple who might have needed my address for their wedding invitation has vanished, and I missed the entire exchange, granted there even was an exchange to begin with.

  Huffing out in frustration, I head for the back of the store to collect a few more items I need for the week, hoping I didn’t potentially miss the inspiration behind my story.

  When I push past the meat counter, a new row of steaks catches my eye just as my stomach growls. It’s been a while since I’ve had a cast-iron seared steak. Maybe tonight I treat myself.

  “Are you eyeing my meat?” A deep and familiar voice calls to me as I crouch over and browse the selection of steak. My eyes veer up and see Dylan smirking over the display case at me.

  “What?”

  “My meat. Looks like you can’t get enough of it. I think I even see some drool coming out of the corner of your mouth.” He tilts his head to the side to assess my face as I come to the realization that he’s insinuating something.

  “Does that line work for you all the time?” I arch my brow as his smile builds with humor on the tips of his lips.

  He shrugs. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t hit on women at the meat counter.”

  “No? Because it seems like you’re far too confident not to try to pick up women with cheesy lines like that.”

  Dylan narrows his eyes at me and leans further over the counter, so close to my face now that I can smell the mint of his gum on his breath and see the flecks of yellow in his blue eyes. The smatter of whiskers lining his jaw draws my attention as well, especially how they frame his plump lips that I can’t stop staring at.

  “Aw, I think
you were eyeing my meat, McKenzie.”

  “Huh?”

  “My eyes are up here, Cookie Monster.”

  Shit. I was starting at him again. Damn, I think I need to get laid. Leering over this fine young man is reminding me that it’s been a while since I’ve had sex, especially with how my lady bits are throbbing between my legs.

  “I’m aware. I’ll take a New York steak, please.”

  “Sure thing.” He pushes off the case and then grabs a plastic glove, stretching it over his long fingers that I’m sure he knows how to use very well. Damn, he has nice hands. How did I miss that last week when he handed me a glass of water?

  “So, I see you took my advice on the cookies this week,” he says with a nod of his head towards my basket.

  My eyes find the elf cookies and then I feel my cheeks blush a bit. Damn, he notices everything. And I hate to admit, but he is the reason I chose these today after he mentioned them last time.

  “Well, you just reminded me that it had been too long since I’d had them. I like to mix things up, you know. The cookie aisle is a smorgasbord for monsters like myself,” I tease, hoping he can’t sense how nervous he makes me. My body’s reaction to this guy is rather alarming.

  “I bet. Good thing your vice isn’t chips. I heard there was almost an MMA fight in the chip aisle.”

  I laugh and enjoy how his face lights up instantly. “Yes! I witnessed it. Ethel was not letting that guy away with her chips.”

  “I don’t blame her. You’ve gotta fight for what you want in life.” The declaration behind his words makes my gut twist a bit. Why that is, I’m not sure.

  Dylan finishes wrapping my steak and then slaps the price sticker on the packaging, securing the white butcher paper in place. “Here you go, McKenzie.” He hands me the package over the case and our fingers brush against each other just slightly. But it was definitely enough to warrant a reaction from my body, tingles shooting up my arms, straight to my brain, which fires off a message to my core again.

  “Thank you, Dylan.”

  “See you next time.”