Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
CHANCE
April’s reaction to my surprise does not disappoint. Her eyes sparkle and her mouth parts on a stunned gasp.
The moment would be perfect… if there wasn’t a bump on her head the size of a hockey puck.
“This way. Watch your step.” I guide her up the gazebo stairs. The structure’s been outfitted with beautiful string lights, fresh flowers, and a thick rug that was flown in from an exotic country that I’ve forgotten the name of.
I have to hand it to the event planner, the fluffy decoration was the right call. It feels like we’re sitting on a cloud.
April sinks into the soft fibers and leans against the sturdy picnic baskets containing our dinner of fancy sandwiches topped with imported olives (or so was listed on the bill), baked chicken, and cheese platters.
I dive into the ice box, bypass the wine chilling on top, push past the lemonade and beer coolers, and scoop out a few cubes. Looking around for a cloth to wrap the ice in, I disentangle the fancy tablecloth wrapped around the cutlery, drop the ice inside and tie it up.
“Here.” I press the makeshift ice pack against April’s head.
She barely registers the movement.
“April, honey, you need to hold this where it hurts.”
She absently presses the ice pack to her crown, too busy tracking every inch of the gazebo to scold me about calling her ‘honey’. Although now that I have, I’m definitely calling her that again.
“Is that… a candy stand?” April points to the M&Ms, Oreos, and mini chocolate bars arranged in rustic, wicker baskets. Each basket carries a silver scoop and a tiny, handwritten cardboard sign bearing the treat’s name.
“And gummy bears!” April dumps the ice pack and crawls toward the treat.
I hiss in disapproval. “We’ll tend to your wound first, then we can eat.”
Despite my firm tone, happiness glows in my chest as I watch her excitement.
April obediently settles back in the rug. “Chance, did you do all this?”
“Yes,” I answer.
Her eyebrows crash down in disbelief. “Really?”
“I paid someone, so technically?—”
Her mouth puckers. “That doesn’t count.”
“It does count.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Whoever pays a sniper to assassinate someone is ultimately responsible for the crime.”
“They’re technically both responsible for the crime, and this is not nearly the same as hiring a hit on someone.”
“I think the law would disagree with you,” I answer.
“And I think you’re the one who should have gotten smacked by a good book.”
“The Good Book?” I peer up at the starry skies, not surprised at all that the Lord Himself had to step in earlier. There was probably no other way to get my hands off April.
“No, I said a good book. You’re impossible.” April rolls her eyes.
“And you’re cute and injured. Ice pack.”
April huffs but she does as she’s told.
While she moves the ice pack around her head, I take a small, transparent bag and scoot over to the candy bar.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Oreos. No, the M&Ms. No…” April peers at the selection with eyes narrowed. “They’re all my favorites.”
“I know.” I scoop out the M&Ms first then grab three more bags and fill those with the Oreos, gummy bears, and chocolate bars.
“How did you know?” April moves her narrowed gaze from the candy to me.
“Because I’ve made it my mission to know everything about you.”
“It was May, wasn’t it?”
I laugh at the way she’s totally unfazed by my flirting. “Hold the candy. I’ll take over with the ice pack.”
April willingly trades the ice pack for the treats.
“You won’t be able to eat dinner later if you eat this first,” I warn.
“Who said I was staying for dinner? I plan on storming off as soon as I’m finished.” She pops the candies into her mouth.
I chuckle. “If you leave early, you’ll miss the best part.”
“What’s the best part?” Her eyes glow with interest.
My gaze drops to her mouth.
A dazed look enters her eyes and her chewing slows. With a start, April glances away and keeps munching.
“When did you plan this?”
“Since the moment you agreed to the date,” I admit.
I did hours of agonizing research, chatted with May about April’s preferences and scoured internet dating forums, before I settled on what I wanted to do tonight.
“What made you think I’d be into something like this?” April gestures to the string lights.
“It’s more like I thought of what you wouldn’t want. You didn’t strike me as someone who’d like to spend her evening at a stuffy restaurant, or at a movie, or looking across a table at someone for two hours. You like your space. You like the outdoors, and most importantly…”
“I like books?” She fills in.
“Mechanic books, yeah. I spent hours scrolling your social media.” He shakes his head slowly. “You strange, strange woman.”
She laughs and then catches herself. “Is that the surprise? Did you want us to read car manuals at the library?”
Since it seems like the perfect moment, I reach into a nearby basket and pull out a long, heavy box.
“What is it?” April asks when I deposit it into her lap.
“Something I got through the library. Open it.” I gesture.
She undoes the bow, pulls off the top and her eyes glaze over in surprise. “Chance, this is…”
“The original edition of The Ultimate Bugatti E-Type . Five years ago, you posted that you wanted to read it. Last year, you reposted the memory saying you still hadn’t gotten a chance.”
“This book is super rare and out of print. There are only a handful of copies in the world and they only lend it to select libraries.”
“I knew someone who knew someone.” I shrug. A perk of dad being such a car head is he has a deep network of connections in the automotive space. “Ms. Glennice was also a big help.”
She’s still blinking up a storm. “Chance, I can’t believe this. It’s too much.” Despite her words, her fingers close tightly around the tome, as if her body can’t bear to part with the book.
“Like I said, it belongs to the library.” I shake my head. “As much as I wanted to keep it so every time you wanted to read, you’d have to see me, that didn’t work out.”
Her lips quirk. “That sounded like the plan of a supervillain.”
“The best villains have a good reason for being bad.”
She tilts her head. “Am I your villain origin story?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you have permanent damage from that book falling on your head.”
She chuckles and looks down at the rare book again.
Her ice pack has melted by now, so I shake out the non-liquid pieces in the grass and scoop out some more from the ice box.
“I’m okay,” April says, touching my wrist when I try to put the ice pack back on her head.
“Are you sure?”
She nods.
I retreat and shake out my hand to get some warmth back. Holding the ice for so long started to burn my palms.
“An outdoor picnic is a budget-friendly idea.” She glances around. “But I’m almost afraid to ask what you spent on all this.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” She frowns. “You even hired someone to decorate.”
“That’s a given. I don’t waste time doing things I’m not good at. And decorating… is not a skill of mine.”
“Chance…”
“April, the last thing you and I need to talk about right now is money.” I give her a knowing look. “Not when there are more pressing topics.”
“Like what?” She licks one side of the Oreo biscuit.
I track the motion. Reaching over to steal an Oreo from the package, I say, “That kiss, for instance.”
I’m smug about it, expecting April to choke on her Oreo in response.
But instead, she turns to me, blinks frankly, and says, “Which one?”
And suddenly, I’ve got an Oreo stuck in my throat and it’s April who has to find me a bottle of water. I accept it and chug thirstily.
She hovers over me. “Are you okay? I don’t know CPR, so if you’re not, I’ll have to call an ambulance.”
I massage my throat. After croaking out a weak ‘I’m okay’, I crawl over to where she’d been sitting and lean against the baskets. April gauges my position and sits on the opposite end of the gazebo.
To be fair, it could be because she wants to be closer to the Oreos.
But I think she’s just avoiding me.
“This entire idea was beautiful, Chance. And this book is…” She blows out a breath. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
Instantly, I brace myself for words I won’t like to hear. April’s somber tone is the exact one my general manager used when he let me go from the team.
“But,” April’s fingers tug at the bristles of the rug, “but I?—”
“You don’t trust me.”
She swallows and ducks her head. “That’s not it.”
I set down my bottle of water and close the distance between us. Gently, I take her hand and say, “I respect that you don’t feel the same way and I won’t force you to change your mind.”
Her eyes flit to me, full of relief.
“But,” I add and now I see her bracing herself, “I’m an athlete and there’s not much anyone can do to stop me when I put my mind to something.”
“And what exactly have you set your mind to do?” She scrunches her nose, probably imagining the worst.
I rub my thumb over her knuckles. “You’ll see.”
“Chance…” She groans.
I release her hand and climb to my feet. From this vantage, she looks so small and fragile that I want to scoop her into my pocket and protect her with my life.
“I’ll take you home so you can read that in peace.” I point to the book.
She chews on her bottom lip.
“Or we can stay here and follow my original plan—me feeding you strawberries while you sit on my lap and read.”
“I’ll read at home!” April blurts.
I laugh at her startled expression.
April stands too fast and nearly trips on her dress. I steady her with a hand to her elbow and release her just as quickly. When her back is turned, I scoop out a few more sweets for her and follow her to the parking lot.
I say nothing as I take her home and she seems uncomfortable with the silence, sending me constant looks as if she’s trying to figure me out. More than once, I notice her open her mouth and then slam it shut.
When I finally get her home, I offer her the sweets and send her off with a wave. “Tell May I said goodnight.”
A furrow between her brow, she opens the door. “Uh, yeah. Goodnight.”
I watch her scramble to her front door and, in the quiet of my car, I whisper, “See you tomorrow.”