Chapter 5
Chapter Five
CHASE
I t was Thursday night. Girls’ night in. Man Enough was on the TV. The clock on Violet’s date was ticking faster. It was supposed to happen in two short days and I was not okay. I’d spent all week working a laughable plan designed to remind her of the beauty of her singlehood.
Monday, I’d given her a raise to reinforce her sense of financial independence. Tuesday, I’d made sure she overheard a conversation between me and Cody about the high rate of psychopathic murderers women met on dating apps. Wednesday, I’d left the paper open to an article about the benefits of friendship over romance. Despite my best efforts to make her think twice, I hadn’t heard a word about her canceling. Violet was still going out on her date.
“So, tell us about this guy!” Tatum whisper-hissed. I caught the question as I came down Violet’s steps. I’d just put her kids down to sleep. Instead of continuing down the stairs and entering the conversation, I lingered. I told myself I wasn’t a creeper—that I was just a guy in search of information—that just for a minute, I would eavesdrop out of sight.
“His name is Rodney,” Violet began.
Already, I hated this guy. What the hell did people call him? Rod?
“I met him at a wedding—I mean, one of the weddings I helped coordinate for the farm. We’ve run into each other a few times now, but he only just asked me out. He owns one of the companies we use for stage rentals, but he also plays in a bluegrass band.”
“What’s he look like?” Tatum pressed on.
“I don’t know.” Violet continued. “He’s average height. Good-looking with bright blue eyes. Divorced. Likes hunting and fishing.”
Who cared about bright blue eyes? Green eyes like mine were rare. But why was I even comparing myself? It wasn’t like Violet and I could get together. She was the only woman on earth who was uniquely forbidden to me.
“Where’s he taking you?” Nikki wanted to know.
“I don’t know.” A hint of annoyance came into Violet’s voice. “If I did, it wouldn’t be a date.”
“If you don’t know where you’re going, how do you know what to wear?”
“I’m guessing he’ll tell me if I needed to wear something out of the ordinary. And I don’t need to plan every minute of everything. I’d like to be surprised.”
I made a mental note of that, then scolded myself to throw said note away. I had no use for knowing what Violet considered her ideal date.
“So what do you like about him?” Tatum sure did have a lot of questions. I might have burst into the room to save Violet from the interrogation if I hadn’t wanted so many answers myself. However much it pained me, I hung on every word.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Violet sighed. “My only requirement at this point is that he’s not some psycho killer.”
Her comment should have gratified me to the extent it vindicated my scheming. But it only made me sad.
“Apart from that,” she went on. “I think I just want all the basic things that a woman in my situation would appreciate. I want an honest-to-goodness man, someone who makes me feel like a woman.”
I frowned, not knowing what that meant in this day and age.
“And he’s gotta love my kids. That part’s a deal breaker,” she continued with determination.
“Who’s watching Bri and Trey?” Nikki asked.
“Chase.” Jules finally spoke, the first time she had since I’d reached the bottom floor.
My ears perked up to hear whether anyone would say more on the topic, but the room went abruptly silent.
“And all of y’all can quit grilling her about it,” Jules finally said. “She’ll tell you all about it when it’s through.”
The topic switched right then and I hung back for another solid minute. Once enough time had passed, I plodded heavily with my steps when I finally walked back into the room.
“Kids are down,” I reported.
“Thanks, Chase.” Violet was always sincere. She plucked my fuzzy navel off the coffee table and held it out to me as I sat down. I’d made it with blood orange juice and a schnapps I’d distilled myself from my homegrown peaches. I threw her an innocent “you’re welcome” smile, feeling sorry-not-sorry for the eavesdropping I’d done.
“I think he’s really showing up this week,” Nikki was saying.
“Who is really showing up?” I asked, trying to shift my focus to the show. I had to keep my feelings off my face.
“Eric,” Nikki and Jules said at the same time.
Eric. My least favorite suitor. The one who, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why Chelsea still kept him in the game.
“Y’all gotta explain this one to me,” I told them plainly. “How the hell did he not get voted off? He keeps crashing her dates with other guys. Like, bro , wait your turn.”
“Those aren’t his finest moments,” Tatum agreed diplomatically. “But he did save her from that spider. And he did fix that creak in her bedroom door. And he really handled those guys who tried to get fresh with her in the bar.”
Titterings of agreement sounded throughout the room. But I remained incredulous.
“So, wait. A guy buys a can of WD-40 and fends off a harmless insect, and all else is forgotten?”
“Those guys at the bar might not have been harmless,” Violet pointed out.
“Trust me, Chase.” Nikki turned to me and preached. “There’s no such thing as a perfect man. There’s only things you love about them and bad habits you can break. She can train him not to interrupt, but doing something when something needs to be done? Women everywhere are looking for that.”
“Marcus wouldn’t have stepped to those guys at the bar.” That, of course, was Jules.
“Are you serious?” I looked at Jules like she had lost her senses. “Eric’s brilliant plan nearly started a bar fight. You can’t protect your woman if bottles are flying everywhere.”
Violet shrugged. “I see it. I see Eric’s appeal.”
“Fascinating.” I didn’t even say it sarcastically. Some of the things I heard in this room had me floored.
“You taking notes, Chase?” Jules ribbed.
I cast her a sly glance. “Maybe I am.”
“Chase doesn’t need to take notes.” Tatum looked over at me with a playful smile. Her voice held humor, but when I threw her a dismissive eye roll, she blushed.
“She’s not wrong,” Nikki concurred. “Chase is tall, dark, and handsome; proprietor of a successful farm; and an award-winning chef, and firefighter.”
“I’m not a firefighter anymore.” My response was reflexive and there was an edge to my voice. Being called that in the present tense made me prickly.
“Chase served his country faithfully. Any woman would want a man who did,” Violet said appeasingly. She knew how being called a firefighter bent me out of shape. “But that’s not why Chase is a great catch. He’s steady, kind, and reliable. Chase is a catch because he’s such a nice guy.”
She couldn’t have known how a comment like that would affect me. Especially coming from her. I knew she’d only been trying to help.
“I appreciate your conscious rejection of male objectification,” I said jokingly to Violet before swinging my gaze back to Nikki and pretending to look hurt. “I’m a former firefighter. Not a piece of meat.”
The punchline got me the laugh that I had hoped for. Regular conversation ensued. I acted as natural as always. But, that night, I didn’t find it easy to get to sleep, not because of what had been said—because of all the memories it brought up. Of a much younger me and a much younger Violet and the something I’d hoped had been growing between us. And how that thing that was growing had wilted and died the second Todd had come along.
You given it any thought?
Forrest’s text came through just as I hopped into my utility truck, which was more like a super-slim ATV. It drove on the road like a normal truck, albeit a diminutive one. It was narrow enough—and rugged enough—to drive through the orchards in the rows between the trees. Perfect for the repairs I was doing to some of my irrigation systems.
I thought about it the day you asked me , I tapped out as the engine idled. I appreciate the invitation, but no thanks.
Forrest’s next text came in quickly. I’ll be there in half an hour.
I heaved a heavy sigh and shook my head. I knew what he was trying to do. I also had a farm to tend to. I was also grumpy from lack of sleep. I didn’t have time for this.
I’ve got a lot of work in the orchards today , I returned honestly.
And I’ve got a lot of time on my hands , he shot back right away. Don’t worry. I’ll let myself in.
Two hours later, as I made my way back up to my house, I wasn’t surprised to see Forrest’s truck parked outside. I was doubly unsurprised to find him on my couch. When he stood to greet me, he had a beer in his hand and a sucked-clean plate of small chicken bones in front of him.
“I see you found the wings in my fridge.”
“Man, I could drink that buffalo sauce,” he commented with reverence.
“Old family recipe,” I said.
“Remind me to thank your momma.” He greeted me with a hug.
“Not that it ain’t nice to see you, man, but I can tell you—you’re wasting your time with all of this investigation talk.”
“Tell me that after you see this,” he challenged, bending to pick up a leather messenger bag. He opened the top flap and pulled out a file.
He pinned me with a serious gaze. “I could get in trouble for showing you this. It’s real-deal government classified.”
“You don’t have to show me anything,” I returned in an even voice. “I’m sorry, but I can’t join you on the investigation. I’ve got too many responsibilities here.”
“I’m showing you…” he said pointedly. “Because you, of all people, deserve to know.”
Interesting choice of words.
“Deserve to know what?”
He handed me a heavy file, one far too thick to read in my living room at four o’clock when I was sweaty from the fields.
“That the public story and the classified story about that day are different.”
We both knew what that day was. There was only one day the two of us had ever talked about like that—the day Todd and two other men had died on that mountain. Correction: the day I had let him die. The day I had been the one in charge, and they had died on my watch. The day I had ruined his family’s lives.
I had never been named in the incident as a person of interest or a person at fault. My name had never been raised in open forums and I was under no public scrutiny. But some people in firefighter circles—myself included—blamed me for sending them into that fight. It was a fight which, in the clear light of aftermath, everyone agreed they had been bound to lose. The question was, why hadn’t I seen it at the time?
“Give me the Cliff’s Notes version,” I implored.
“The Secretary of the Interior thinks the fire was suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” I repeated. “Suspicious in what way?”
“Read the file, and you’ll find out.”
“Do you mean you want me to read the file so you can suck me in?”
“Todd was our best friend. And if I didn’t try to put the best person on the case, I wouldn’t be a friend to him at all.”
His comment made me properly chagrined.
“I’ll read the file,” I acquiesced.
“Read it soon,” Forrest said. “Like I said, it’s classified. I can’t leave it here with you for long.”