Chapter Twenty-Five
Annabelle
Istared down at my phone, debating. It was eight-fifteen, and no Chase.
It wasn't like he worked for me. He didn't have any obligation to be here.
Really, it was a miracle he kept showing up. Any other man would have lost interest in me by now. Not Chase.
Sometimes my head was a brick wall, but even I was finally getting it. Chase was different. I could trust him. He was loyal. Dependable.
He was good. Everything about him was good.
Okay, he lost his temper one time. One time. Seeing him handle Tommy on the phone, watching him shut down his anger and get a handle on his emotions, I knew I'd been wrong.
Everybody had their bad moments. I'd just caught Chase in one of his.
Making a decision, I swiped open my phone and hit his name on the call list before I could think better of it. I almost thought it was going to voicemail when he picked up, a little out of breath.
"Hey, Annabelle, what's up?"
"Uh, nothing, really. I wanted to, um, check in. I—"
Could I possibly be any more lame? I didn't think so.
Why couldn't I just ask if he was coming by? Say I missed him, that the end of the day didn't feel right without him here.
I didn't need him to help, I just wanted to have him around. I'd baked brownies for him. Dark chocolate with a raspberry glaze.
All of those thoughts swirled in my head and jammed before they reached my mouth.
Chase's breath huffed through the phone. "Oh, shit. I didn't realize it was so late. Look, I can't come by tonight—"
"It's okay. It's okay. You don't have to come by. I can close the place on my own, you know."
He laughed, and the slam of a car door sounded through the phone.
"Yeah, I know, but I like helping. I've got something on tonight, but I was going to call you. Listen, I have some crazy news."
I sank into the armchair Chase always favored and propped my feet up on the coffee table, my day brightening at the sound of his voice. I'd rather have him here, but if I couldn't have that, talking to him was a close second.
"Crazy news? Crazy good news or crazy bad news?"
"Crazy good news," Chase said and I could practically see the smile on his face, the spark in those vibrant blue eyes. "Get this, Mrs. W and Abel are back."
"Where were they?” My mind spun through all the possibilities. A Safari. Scuba diving. Camping… No, not camping. Maybe Abel, but not Mrs. W.
Chase interrupted my meandering thoughts.
"They went to Disney and got married," he said, his voice filled with glee.
"No! Seriously?"
"Seriously. They're both tan and I've never seen either of them look so happy. I thought Abel's face would crack if he smiled this much, and Mrs. W has a rock on her hand."
"Like an Abigail-sized rock?" I asked. The ring Jacob had given Abigail was borderline obscene. She had the elegance to carry it off, but still, it was huge.
“Okay, not Abigail big, but big. The thing sparkles. She can't stop looking at it. We’re all taking the day off tomorrow to help him move his things into her cottage, so they can have more privacy."
My heart swelled, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes. We'd all been wondering if anything would come of their flirtation. Wondering and hoping.
"That's so sweet," I said.
Chase went on, "We’re having a party for them.
Abigail has it set up, catered so Abel and Mrs. W don't have to do anything, but just family.” He paused, and when he spoke again his words were uncertain.
Hesitant. “Is there any way you think you could get the night off?
Not tomorrow but the next night. Could you bribe one of the new hires to close for you? "
He asked as if he knew I'd say no. And if it were anyone else other than Chase, I might have.
The café came first. Not just because I loved it. It came first because it was my livelihood, and after my divorce, I'd come too close to losing it. Losing everything.
But this was Chase. This was Chase asking me to go with him to a family dinner, to celebrate the marriage of two people I'd known and loved for years. I didn't have to think for long.
"I'll work it out. Do you want to pick me up? Or should I meet you there?"
Relief heavy in his voice, Chase said, "I'll pick you up."
"I'll make it work," I said again. And I would. If I had to close the café early, I'd do it.
If I'd learned anything in the last few weeks, it's that the café couldn't be my whole life. I didn't want to be alone.
I didn't want to hide behind my walls with nothing but this place for company. And I'd learned that maybe, possibly, definitely, there was something—or someone—I loved more than my café.
It turned out I didn't have to close the café early. Bruce and Marie, my new hires, were more than happy to take the overtime I offered. I agreed to let them leave a little early off the dayshift, and they promised to be back by six to take over and close.
I was a little nervous at the idea of giving them a key when I hadn't known them that long, but at the end of the day, the café was just a place. It was insured.
The wedding dinner was about people. People I loved, and I wanted to be with them when they celebrated. That was more important than things, than a place. More important than my business. This was life and family.
Just in case, I would run the deposit to the bank on my lunch break. I wasn't throwing all caution to the wind.
The night before the wedding dinner, Chase showed up at seven, laptop in his scuffed backpack, and took up his usual position in the armchair in the corner. It was crazy, but I'd taken to sneaking over and placing a little reserved sign on the seat if it was vacant anytime after five.
Maybe it was bad business, but I didn't care. That was Chase's seat. He liked to lounge, propping his laptop on his bag, a cup of coffee and a snack at his elbow.
If that's how Chase wanted to work, I was going to make it happen.
Seeing him there, absorbed in whatever was on his screen, absently sipping the Americano I'd put at his elbow, I realized how very much I'd missed him the night before.
I turned my attention back to business and didn't manage more than a wave hello until after I'd locked the door. I took a break, sitting on the couch propping my feet up on the coffee table and looking over at him.
"Project going well?"
He jerked, startled at the sound of my voice. I grinned. I loved the way he threw himself so completely into his work, shutting out everything as his clever brain worked furiously.
Sometimes he sat completely still, staring at the screen, and sometimes his fingers flew over the keyboard until they were a blur.
Knowing he was about to ask I said, "It's eight-ten. Did you eat? Other than that brownie?"
"Humph," he grunted.
"That's not an answer," I said. "You should take better care of yourself."
He flashed me a brilliant grin, his blue eyes bright. "Why bother when you do it for me?"
"Mmm," I said noncommittally. I liked taking care of Chase, mostly because, despite his words, he didn't expect me to.
I leaned closer and caught sight of his hands. His knuckles were bruised, the flesh torn and ragged. I looked from them to his face and back, reaching out to touch.
He snatched his hand and slid it beside his leg, out of sight.
"It's nothing," he said.
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. That was not nothing. I may not have had brothers of my own, but I'd grown up around the Winters and Sinclair boys. I knew what knuckles looked like after a good fistfight.
Jeez, Gage and Aiden alone had had more of those than I could count, especially when they were young teenagers. Sometimes I thought the two of them only communicated with their fists.
It had mystified me how two boys who were so close could be so comfortable beating the hell out of each other. It was a mystery for the ages, and not one I'd figure out in my lifetime.
"Who did you fight with?" I demanded. "Was it one of the Winters? I thought they grew out of that."
Chase shook his head with a grin. "And if I said it was? You going to go over there and yell at them for me?"
"Maybe. It depends. Did you start it?"
Chase laughed, a loose, happy sound. "It wasn't one of the Winters," he said with a grin. "And it's nothing for you to worry about. It's not going to happen again. I was just taking care of a problem."
My suspicions grew. What kind of problem did Chase have that he'd solved it with his fists?
He needed his hands. He couldn't work on his projects if he hurt his hands.
"Who was it? What did you do? I don't want you to get hurt."
"I promise, Annabelle, I won't get hurt. I didn't get hurt. And the person who did get hurt deserved it. This is nothing you have to worry about."
A light flicked on in my head and, for a second, I wondered.
I wondered, but I wasn't going to ask. Before he spoke, I already knew the answer.
Chase leaned forward in the armchair, reaching out with one bruised hand to trace his finger along my cheekbone.
"Trust me. Will you? Will you trust me?"
My heart spoke before my head could get in the way. "I trust you."
The smile that bloomed on his face was so sweet my heart ached. Uncomfortable with the surge of emotion, I stood. "Do you want something to eat before I start cleaning up?"
"I wouldn't turn down a sandwich,"
"Good, because I got some tapenade and I thought I'd make you a Muffuletta."
He'd mentioned how much he liked the Creole sandwich, a delicious meld of Italian charcuterie and spicy olive salad native to New Orleans. When I'd seen the gourmet tapenade on the shelf, I'd tossed it in the cart, already imagining the satisfied look in his eyes as he took his first bite.
I fed Chase, and he helped me close down the café. As I walked him to the back door, I thought about inviting him upstairs, and for the first time in ages, I was embarrassed by my tiny studio.
My bed was a double, barely big enough for two, and it was jammed against the wall.
The whole place was a mess. I hadn't minded much before. I thought about asking him up anyway. Chase wouldn't care. He'd seen the tiny room already and hadn't run screaming.
"Do you—"
He stopped my words with a finger to my lips. A protest rumbled from my throat, somewhere between annoyed and frustrated. With another of those, slow, sweet smiles, Chase melted away my irritation.
His finger slid from my lips and his mouth took its place, feathering across mine with a touch so light I was straining forward for more, reaching up to sink my fingers into his thick hair and haul him closer.
If he wouldn't let me invite him upstairs with words, I'd let him know I wanted him in my bed the only other way I could. I thought he was getting the message.
Chase groaned into my mouth, backing me into the wall, his hands closing around my hips, pulling me closer until the length of his cock pressed exactly where I wanted it.
Where we both wanted it. If only I were wearing a skirt instead of shorts. Dropping my hands to his back, I held on, absorbing the heat of his skin, the flex of his muscles as he moved against me.
I was panting by the time he raised his head, my fingers curled into his T-shirt, gripping the fabric so tightly I thought it might tear.
"I'll be here at six-thirty tomorrow," he promised
"Okay," I whispered, my head reeling. "I can't wait."