Chapter 13
thirteen
I swipe my phone open and press the call button next to his name.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey, Candace.” He sounds calm, and confident, and genuinely happy to hear from me.
“Hey. I’m sorry I couldn’t take your call earlier.”
“Don’t be sorry. Did you have fun?”
“I did.” My words come out a little slow because even though the entire night was fun, I think him asking me to this Christmas party was the most exciting part.
“Well, I hope it wasn’t a date. If it was, he should be the one walking you home right now, not me.”
A chuckle leaves my lips. “No. Not a date. And I’m not sure this counts as you walking me home.”
“Oh, it totally counts. We don’t live in some fairytale city, Candace. Someone should make sure you get home.”
“And you’re that person?”
“I seem to be. It’s not a role I remember signing up for, but it’s one I’m happy to take.” There’s a pause before he adds, “Seriously. If you ever need anything, call me. It doesn’t matter if it’s past midnight or that I’ve just downed three fingers of bourbon . . . twice.”
I pull my phone away from my ear to check the time. It’s not just past midnight, it’s almost one. It feels like Amanda and I only went out for a short time together, but then again, we did end up closing the salon just after 9:30 tonight.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I had no idea how late it was.”
“Candace, stop apologizing. Did you hear me? Call me. Always call me.”
“Yes, but you were apparently drunk when you said that.”
He laughs on the other end, and it brings a smile to my lips. “Not drunk. I just couldn’t sleep. I thought the bourbon might help.”
“And did it?”
“Not even a little.”
“Why can’t you sleep?”
Chase sighs. “Work, stress . . . more work, more stress.”
I’ve reached the front of my apartment and head inside. “What do you do?”
“Advertising. And my boss . . . Well, she’s a piece of work sometimes.”
“I thought you said your boss loves you?” I try to keep my voice steady as I walk through the lobby.
A humorless laugh travels over the phone. “Oh, she does. Maybe a little too much. That’s actually why I need your help for the Christmas party.”
“Okay?” I say, not sure where this is going.
“Look, I love my job. I’m up for a promotion, so I never say no to anything the company asks. I put in the extra hours and all that, but my boss . . . She’s very nice, but . . .” There’s a pause.
“Chase, just say whatever you’re trying to say.” I fiddle with the keys in my lock, and wonder if Miles is home, or if he’ll come home at all tonight. He mentioned going on a date .
“Last year at the Christmas party, she got drunk and cornered me under the mistletoe.” The words come out in a rush, and I stop what I’m doing, my ears catching up, processing on a delay. After a pause, he goes on to say, “Avoiding her for the rest of the party was exhausting, and I don’t want to do it again. I thought if I brought a date this year, she’d get the message.”
“You’d rather bring a fake date than just tell her you’re not interested?” I’ve started moving again, and when I head into my apartment, it’s empty. I turn on a table lamp and lie back on the couch.
He groans. “I have told her, Candace. You don’t understand.”
Something in his voice makes me take him more seriously. “Have you filed anything with HR?”
“No, I don’t want to. I mean—I want to, but not until I get my promotion. Who knows, by then she won’t be my boss anymore, so it will probably stop. Right now, I think she just feels like she has this power over me or something. I’ve told her it will never happen. It’s all harmless for the most part, but she’s relentless.”
I frown. I had no idea he was dealing with so much stress related to his job. “Well, I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
“Thanks. We can talk about it more later.” His words muffle like he’s running a hand over his face. “Did you make it home?”
“I did. Thanks for walking me.”
His laugh sounds tired. “Anytime. I mean it.”
My eyebrows furrow as I stare at my ceiling and run a hand through my hair. He seems like he cares—really cares.
Before I can ask, he says, “Hey, I should probably call it a night. The bourbon is kicking in, and I’m either going to fall asleep on the phone with you or start saying ridiculous shit I’ll have to explain in the morning. I’d rather not put you through either.”
I could argue that I’d be happy with either of those things happening, but instead, I smile even though he can’t see me and say, “Goodnight, Chase.”
“Goodnight, Candace.”
I don’t want to hang up, but I force myself to hit the red button first. Letting out a long breath, I imagine what going to this party with him means. Will he touch me? Kiss me? Will I be able to walk away from it all unscathed? The answers are most likely yes, yes, and . . . no.