6. Chase
CHAPTER SIX
CHASE
I t’s early when I pull up to Patti’s Place for coffee—hopeful Patty with a Y is working again this morning. The calming breath I take while walking through the nearly empty parking lot clears my head as I mentally prepare to see her again. If I want to make an impression, I can’t afford another speechless encounter like the one at lunch yesterday.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Patty calls over her shoulder, keeping her eyes on whatever task she’s working on in the kitchen.
I slip into a seat at the counter and wait, watching her prep another pot of coffee. Her hair is pulled up in the front, flowing down her shoulders in the back. My heart beats a tick faster at the thought of seeing her face again. She turns to greet me, and my breath hitches in my throat.
“What can I…?” She pauses, halting her steps. “Oh, hey, Gatherer. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Chase,” I say. I think she’s messing with me, but the polite grin on her face betrays nothing.
She nods, trying to hide a smirk. “Oh, I remember.”
“Yeah… I was sent to pick up some coffee. The grocery store was fresh out. ”
“I saw that last night on my search for bread. That place was packed. What can I get for you?”
I list the order sent to my phone and settle back into the stool. “I also wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize? For what?” she asks, back turned again as she prepares the drinks.
“For yesterday. I’m not usually that reserved…”
“I figured.” She faces me, and my eyes follow the path of her hand as she puts it on her hip. “Quiet guys don’t leave me their number in a tip jar.” Arching her eyebrow, she presses her tongue against the inside of her cheek, an adorable attempt to keep from smiling. I can tell she wants to, so I lay it on thick.
“Would you believe me if I said it was low blood sugar?” I ask.
“Are you diabetic?”
“No.”
“Hypoglycemic?”
I shake my head, smiling. “Nope.”
“Then nope.” She grins back politely and places the four small to-go cups in a drink carrier before sliding it over to me. “That’ll be $10.25.”
I slide my card to her and our fingers brush as she picks it up, leaving tingles where we touch. Her skin is so damn soft, and I notice the new color on her nails—a bold sky blue, my favorite. When she returns, she holds my card out to me, and I keep her gaze. Her hand hangs in the air with the plastic between her fingers, her eyebrows dipping like she’s trying to figure out why I won’t take back my card. But I have her attention, and that’s all I want right now.
“What I wrote on that business card yesterday…” I say.
“What about it?”
I bite the inside of my lip with a sigh and nod. “You managed to do it again.”
She takes a deep breath and looks away, eyes wide.
Mission accomplished .
Slipping the card out of her fingers, I wink as I say, “See you around, Patty .” I chuckle at her reaction and stroll out the door, coffee in hand. This diner is about to become my new favorite restaurant.
The receptionist chatters away on the phone when I arrive at the front desk of the youth center. She holds a finger up to me before typing furiously at the keyboard in front of her. I smile and nod, recognizing the signal for what it is, and take in the large ocean mural on the wall behind her while I wait. The painting shows a panoramic view of Fort Bender’s landscape, rendering the ocean bluffs on the edge of the city, the shops downtown, and ending with the dense redwood forest on the other side.
The young woman greets me as she hangs up and points me down a long hallway to my left, opposite the squeaking noise of sneakers on vinyl coming from the gym. The shrill ringing of the phone next to her sets her in motion again, and I thank her as I turn to walk down the hall. When I stop at the doorway marked Conference, there’s only one person in the bright white recreation room—a small blond woman in cargo pants and a Bender Youth Center T-shirt, sorting through first aid materials.
“Claire?” I ask cautiously.
“Yes, that’s me,” she says, looking in my direction.
“I’m Chase. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Chase! Oh! Let me thank you again, in person, for helping us out last minute.” She steps closer and lowers her voice as she leans in, saying, “Since no one is here yet, I want to tell you that we were able to offer two campers a spot with your generous donation.”
“I’m glad I could help,” I say, flashing her a smile before looking around the room. I don’t want to be rude, but I really don’t want to put more attention on the money either.
A picture window taking up half of the wall frames Fort Bender’s beautiful landscape, showcasing the town in a way that is almost identical to the mural out front. The only difference is the wind adding an animated effect to the swaying trees and crashing tide. The view is even more amazing on this hill.
“Everyone else should start filing in soon, and we’ll get started,” Claire says as she digs into her supplies.
I turn back toward the smooth glass, walking closer to see the breathtaking view. Moody ocean waves lapping at the cliff’s edge whisper millions of years’ worth of wisdom toward the thousand-year-old redwoods. Paired with the gloomy sky, it all makes for an ethereal view. I really could get used to this place.
“I forget how different Bender looks from up here,” an energetic voice says next to me. “You can barely see Main Street. Hi! I’m Ashlie.”
“Chase.” I stick out my hand, and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Wow, your eyes are really blue,” she gasps, gripping tighter as she steps in close and peers into my face. “Like, deep, dark blue… Sorry.” She smiles apologetically as I lean back in surprise. “I forget about the personal bubble sometimes.”
With a chuckle, I respond, “No worries. I could sit down if that makes it easier to see them…”
“Is that a short joke, Chase?”
I pinch my fingers together. “A little bit,” I tease again.
She wheezes a laugh and bumps my arm with her shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says. “And funny. Where are you from?”
“I grew up in LA, but I just finished school down at Gradford.”
“Ooh, private school. You’re fancy- fancy! I’m from here, but I go to ULA.”
“Born and raised?” I ask, wondering if she knows the mystery waitress at Patti’s Place. A couple more people have filtered in, and they sit in the chairs set up in the middle of the room.
“Nope, we moved from Vegas when I started middle school?—”
“Let’s get started with some housekeeping items,” Claire calls from across the room, closing the double doors to separate us from the noise down the hall. “Kayla’s on the way with lunch, and then we’ll do icebreakers and begin first aid certification.” She stands in the middle of the semicircle of chairs as we all gather, reading from an itinerary on her clipboard. “Tomorrow, we’ll do CPR, Thursday is both survival skills and mindfulness day, and Friday we’ll head to the art museum.”
I take a chair on the end, and Ashlie sits down next to me. “Since you’re from here, have you worked at this camp before?” I ask.
“Ew. No. I’m not a camper. The whole bug thing just…ew.” She shivers, sticking out her tongue. “I’m not even working for Camp Bender. I needed to renew my ‘certs’ for the museum, and this was the only training in town. After tomorrow, I’m all done.”
“Oh, nice. Which museum? My buddy and I are looking for things to do here.”
“The one on Main. The Visitor’s Center and Museum, across from Patti’s Place?—”
The slow creaking of the heavy metal door as it eases open across the room turns our attention. “ Ugh , this stupid cart!” The door closes and creeps open again, the person on the other side clearly struggling. I make my way over and hold it open, standing behind it to hopefully help with the process. “The wheel is stuck. Hang on…” the voice says in an exasperated tone.
I peer around the door and freeze as the familiar scent of vanilla washes over me. Her back is turned, but I recognize the locs flowing down around her shoulders.
“Patty?” I ask, smiling wide.
She turns slowly, brows creased in the middle. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m one of the camp counselors,” I explain, moving back to make way for the cart .
“No…” Shaking her head, she glances over her shoulder at the group. She moves the cart over the threshold, toward the long tables on the wall, and expertly arranges disposable plates and utensils around the table. “Where’s Seth?” she asks, looking between the group and me, aluminum pan in hand.
“Hey, Kayla!” Claire bounces toward us. “Seth broke his wrist while backpacking in Iceland. Chase here so graciously stepped in last minute.” Changing gears, she looks toward the lunch spread out on the tables. “This food looks amazing! Dig in, guys!” Claire calls to the group.
“Kayla, eh?” A sly grin settles on my face.
She scrubs her hand over the frustration on her face and sighs. “Yes, Kayla. My name is Kayla. Surprise…” She makes a less than enthusiastic ta-da gesture with her arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like the cat that ate the canary.”
“This is just how I look.” I shrug. My smile grows as I’m struck by how well her name suits her. Those piercing green eyes, the warm scent of spiced vanilla, and something else I can’t place, with one stray loc falling against her cheek. Kayla . I like it, and my fingers twitch just thinking of brushing that hair from her face.
“Hey, girl!” Ashlie sidles up to us.
“How do you know Kayla?” I ask.
“Uh, she’s my best friend.” She throws a sassy hand on her hip. “How do you know Kayla?”
Kayla groans while watching the exchange. As she brings her hands together, I notice she scrapes at one thumb nail with the other.
“We met yesterday at the diner,” I confess, smiling at both of them.
“ Wait! ” Ashlie gasps dramatically. “This is ‘Tip Jar Guy,’ isn’t it? Shaggy hair, tall, blue eyes a mile deep…”
With a grimace on her face, Kayla rubs the furrow between her eyebrows. I don’t know if she’s flustered or irritated or both, but either way, this is entertaining. She shoots a threatening glare at Ashlie, who’s none the wiser as she grabs a plate.
“A mile, huh? That’s pretty deep, for eyes.” I turn my attention back to the enchanting green ones. “You told your friend about me?” Raising my eyebrows, canary-eating grin plastered on my face, I wait for her answer.
“I didn’t tell her about you . I don’t even know you. I just told her about a thing that happened at work.”
“And the thing was me…?” my voice trails as I waggle my eyebrows playfully. That earns an eye roll from her. Oh, she’s definitely flustered, and I have to admit, it’s fun watching her squirm. She gets cuter the more ruffled she is, like she isn’t used to being put on the spot like this. “Well, Kayla , I guess today really is my lucky day .” I wink, and she heaves a long sigh, pursing her lips before turning back to the lunch spread.
We’ve just finished eating when Claire leads us through a few icebreakers. Claire, Kayla, and a man-bun-wearing guy named Samson have worked at Camp Bender before, while Sami, her twin brother Kyle, and I are new this year. Ashlie, of course, is just here for certification.
“The goal this summer is for the campers to create lasting memories and bond with each other,” Claire says. “There’s no better way for us to encourage that than to do the same things ourselves. During training, this week and next, I encourage all of you to get to know each other, make friends, and create bonds. We want the campers to feel like we’re all one big happy family. Let’s go around the circle and share two interesting facts about yourself.”
Since I’m sitting on an end chair, everyone turns toward me, waiting for me to start. I stand, giving a little wave. “I’m Chase, I work in tech, and I’ve been told I have blue eyes a mile deep.” Ashlie snorts next to me, and I get a peek at Kayla. She’s two chairs over, shaking her head and biting her cheeks to keep from laughing.
“I’m Ashlie, I work at the museum, and I think all y’all are weirdos for camping out in the woods for weeks on end.” That earns a laugh from the group before all eyes turn to Kayla. A smile spreads across my face as I watch, waiting to learn anything about her.
“I’m Kayla, I was born and raised here, and I work at Patti’s Place.”
Damn. Nothing new. Everyone else turns their attention to the next in line, but my eyes linger on Kayla. She fiddles with her thumb while Samson introduces himself, and must feel my eyes on her because she looks my way. Just as quickly, she slides her eyes back down to her thumb. My mind is stuck on this mystery girl who appears to be a completely closed book. The more I encounter her, the more I want to read the first page. I’ll even settle for the blurb on the back cover if she’ll let me.