Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
E mery
“You can trust him.”
Those were the last words Ms. Cynthia said to me as Chance practically pushed me out of the door of her house. I have no reason to believe her. I don’t even know the woman.
Yet, her comment calmed some of the restlessness inside of me. I can’t answer how or why. None of my questions about where or how to go about finding Ashley have been answered.
Something tells me, though, that if I’m going to get anywhere in my search, sticking close to Chance is my best option.
For now.
That doesn’t mean I’ll follow him blindly.
“We don’t have time to stop for lunch,” I tell Chance as he pulls into a small diner surrounded by forest on three sides.
I can’t imagine how anyone would even find this place if they didn’t know about it. The tiny parking lot only has two other cars parked in it. Yet, as I look into the diner’s windows, there are a number of customers seated in the booths and the counter.
Chance doesn’t answer me.
“Hey.” I tap his arm, making him look my way. “What are we doing here? I think we need to go to the police.”
“No police,” he says with a finality that rankles me.
“Why not? My sister is missing, and no one is helping me find her.”
I run my fingers across my forehead, but the tension doesn’t ease. All I can think of is how many days it’s been since I last heard from Ashley. More than a week. We’ve never gone this amount of time without speaking to one another.
I know something’s wrong.
When the tension in my forehead starts to form a dull ache, a large, calloused hand covers mine. I can’t help but notice the contrasting feel of Chance’s rough hands to Billy’s soft, manicured ones.
What strikes me the most is how right his skin feels against mine. The rough contours of his skin, somehow rub against that roughened, restless part of me that always feels as if it’s lurking just beneath the surface.
And…it softens.
The almost constant tense energy that moves through me, eases, even as I continue to worry about my sister’s whereabouts.
Abruptly, I pull away from his touch. I shake that thought—whatever it was loose. Now is not the time to get sidetracked.
Something flashes through Chance’s copper eyes but he quickly looks away. “We’re here for information,” he says, his voice sounding detached as he stares out of the windshield.
“About my sister?”
He turns back to me but keeps his hands on the steering wheel. He stares, so I repeat the question.
“Are we here to get information about Ashley?”
His lips briefly tighten before he replies, “Something like that.”
He’s out of the truck as soon as the words pass his lips. His movements are so quick, that I don’t have time to even form a response.
Chance is at my car door, opening it and taking me by the arm, while I still process his response.
We’re halfway to the door of the diner before I can spit out, “What does that even mean?”
He doesn’t respond and I feel the tops of my ears heat with anger. This is at least the third time he’s simply ignored my questions by pretending he doesn’t hear me.
“How can I help yo—Chance?!” the plump woman dressed in a yellow and white waitress outfit, bursts out.
“What on Earth are you doing out this way?”
Out this way?
She says it as if he’s not from the area.
“Come on in and have a seat,” she demands before Chance answers her. “Well, hello,” she says with a broad smile, showcasing a gold tooth. “Who do we have here?”
Chance looks over at me, as if remembering I’m with him, even though he’s kept my arm in his hand since we got out of the truck.
“I’m Emery,” I introduce while extending my free arm.
“Nice to meet you, baby. I’m Chelsea. Come on in and have a seat.”
We follow Chelsea toward one of the few empty booths, seated along the window that looks out into a wooded area.
Though I want to get answers about, yet another, side trip Chance has taken me on, I remind myself that we’re in a restaurant full of people. It’s impolite to raise my voice or show too much emotion in public, according to my mother.
I plant a phony smile on my face as Chelsea drops two glasses of water and menus in front of us before leaving us alone.
“Can you please tell me what we’re doing here?” I whisper across the table at Chance. “Is this going to help me find my sister?”
“I have some business to—” He cuts himself off and peers out of the window.
The suddenness of his movement alarms me. I peer at his profile for a beat. His square jaw is rigid, tight and he’s as still as a statue as he stares out. I, too, look out of the window, following his gaze.
Yet, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. All I can make out are trees. A bird or two flies from one tree to the next. Nothing at all that catches my attention.
Chance, however, must not feel the same way. The way he stares, almost glaring, out of the window, you would think an army or something were about to storm the diner.
Perhaps, he’s just stalling for time, to ignore me. I’m not about to let that happen.
“What were you saying?” I finally ask to get back to the conversation at hand.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even flinch.
I reach across the table to tap his arm, but Chance is lightning quick.
Before I can touch his sleeve, his much larger hand seizes mine, trapping it to the table. My heartbeat ramps up from his sudden movement. It’s as if he’s coming out of some sort of trance.
He turns his head back to me, his eyes meeting mine.
Something warm—no not warm—fiery hot pulses through me. It settles in the pit of my stomach. Like I’m being burned from the inside out. But instead of wanting these flames to be put out, I want to fan them.
That’s when I look down at where he still has my hand trapped against the table. Chance’s thumb languidly moves back and forth against the skin of my wrist. He’s stroking the vein that’s visibly pulsing.
Is that from his touch?
I quickly snatch my hand away and wrap my wrist with my free hand, holding it as if it’s been burned.
Because it has. My skin continues to pulse and tingle from his touch.
“D-did you say you have business here?” My voice comes out shaky.
I casually tuck a nonexistent strand of hair behind my ear before smoothing down the sides of my bun. I drop my gaze away from him when his eyes linger on me for too long without him saying anything.
Suddenly, I recall that I haven’t applied any makeup since before running out of my motel last night. I can only imagine how terrible I must look.
A woman must always look her best.
My mother’s mantra sounds off in my head.
“Yes.” Chance’s deep voice brings me back to the topic at hand.
For the first time, I notice how, almost rusty, his voice sounds. As if the muscles of his throat have to remember how to be used in order for him to speak.
“What kind of business?” I ask for two reasons. One, because I need to know if it has anything to do with helping me find my sister. Second, because I want him to continue talking.
When he shakes his head, a few strands of his long dark hair fall from the loose ponytail holding the rest of his hair back. I fight the urge to push the hair away from his gorgeous face.
What’s happening to me?
Handsome men are a dime a dozen. In the upper-crust world that my parents raised Ashley and me in, it’s not uncommon for men to spend almost as much money on gym memberships, spa treatments, hair appointments, and even plastic surgery as women.
I’ve seen good-looking men from the time we came to be adopted. Chance, however, isn’t anything like those men. His rough hands tell me he does some kind of manual labor for work or recreation. He keeps his hair long and while not untidy it certainly isn’t cut in the latest runway style.
I would bet all of the money in my wallet that he’s never even seen the inside of a day spa.
Yet, he doesn’t need any of that. No facial that I’ve experienced would give such perfect skin as his bronze sun-kissed glow. He doesn’t need expensive shampoos and conditioners for his long locks to shine.
And his hands?
Well, they’re not smooth like my ex’s but no other touch has ever set me on fire the way his brief embrace just did.
“It’s personal,” he suddenly answers in that gruff, slightly hard voice of his.
I take a minute to remember what he’s even responding to.
Then I shake myself back into reality.
“Personal?” I sit up straight. “First it was business. Now it’s personal?” I scoot out of the booth and rise to my feet.
Chance swiftly slides out of the booth and stands, as well. His movements are like water. So fluid and seamless that he seems to float.
I take a step back while maintaining eye contact. “You’re wasting my time. I don’t know what game you’re trying to play but I don’t want any part of it.”
I lift my chin.
“Thank you for saving me last night from…whatever that was,” I say, using the manners both sets of my parents taught me. “But I will take care of myself from here.”
I turn and head for the door. I haven’t the slightest idea where I am or where I’m going from here, but I can figure it out.
First, I’ll grab my suitcase out of Chance’s truck. Then I can catch a rideshare back to my motel. Hopefully, my rental car is still in the parking lot. After picking up the rental, I’ll head to the police station to make a missing person’s report.
This is the plan I come up with between the time I turn my back on Chance in the diner and the minute or so it takes me to reach his truck in the parking lot.
He hasn’t locked the car doors. I don’t question why as I go to pull the backseat passenger door open to retrieve my suitcase.
Just as I barely pull it open, a larger hand closes it again from behind me.
I whip around to come face to face with Chance, yet again.
“You aren’t leaving.” His mouth barely moves as he makes that declaration. He doesn’t raise his voice, either.
Yet, the finality in his tone is like a clap of thunder. It startles me motionless for a time.
“Y-you can’t keep me here,” I respond after getting my wits back. “That’s illegal. And I have to get back to searching for my sister. I’ve already lost a day because of?—”
“You’re in danger,” he says, cutting me off.
“I was in danger,” I reply. “And thank you, honestly, for saving me from whoever those guys were last night.”
I hold up a hand.
“But I’m certain they’re long gone by now.”
The guys who broke into my motel last night were likely from that dive bar I went to search for Ashley. The chances that one of them saw a single woman, obviously not from the area, and decided to follow me back to my motel to rob me, or worse, is likely what happened.
“Honestly,” I tell Chance. “I appreciate what you did last night. You helped me out a lot and I can pay you for that. I’ll just need to get to a bank where I can withdraw some cash.”
“I don’t want your money.” For the first time, there’s a crack of anger in his tone. His jaw tightens causing the muscles of his cheeks to bulge.
I raise my hand in an attempt to…no.
I stop myself just before my palm makes contact with his cheek. I’m not here to comfort this man. I don’t even understand why I want to.
He’s a stranger.
Yes, a stranger who possibly saved my life.
Yet, a stranger nonetheless.
I drop my hand and step to the side so that I’m no longer trapped between him and his truck.
“If you would please retrieve my luggage out of your truck.” I hold up my phone. “I’m going to call a rideshare to take me back into town.”
I say all of that without looking up at him as I pull my phone out of my bag.
“Ugh,” I groan when I see that my phone only has two percent battery left. “Hopefully, I can order the rideshare and then head back into the diner to charge my phone while I wait,” I mutter to myself as I bring up the car service app.
“What are you doing?” I demand when Chance’s hand covers both of mine and my phone.
I glare up at him to demand that he let me go, but he’s not looking at me. Though his hand still covers mine, his head is turned in the opposite direction. He’s facing the same woods he stared out at minutes ago while we sat inside of the diner.
“What are you-Ahh!” I break off in a scream when two very large, very scary looking wolves emerge from behind the trees.
Both wolves are twice the size of what I imagined a wolf would look like in real life. They’re light gray and white fur is thick with patches of black fur throughout.
The wolves’ low growl and curled top lips that reveal large fangs. Their intent is clear in the menacing looks. They’re here to maim or worse, kill their target.
The absolute worst part, however?
They’re both glaring directly at me.