Breathe

Chapter Six Do You Like My Dress?

Six oh three in the morning, the next day

I struggled up from sleep when I heard my house phone ringing. My heavy eyes shifted across the expanse of my piles of pillows to peer groggily at my alarm clock and see it was three after six in the morning. I didn’t have to be to work until nine thirty. Therefore, unless I went to work out before work, I was never up this early and everyone who knew me knew it.

This could mean bad things and, with drowsy trepidation, I grabbed the phone out of its charger, beeped it on, put it to my ear and mustered up a, “’Lo.”

“Mornin’, baby.”

Oh my. It was Chace sounding drowsy too. No, correction. That would be, it was Chace, his deep voice sounding husky, soft, sexy drowsy.

Wow.

“Hey, Chace,” I whispered. “Is everything okay?”

“Just wanted to know what you sounded like when you woke up in the morning.”

Oh.

My.

Even still sleepy, I felt my blood start to fire and my belly dropped which caused a tingle between my legs that also tingled down my thighs.

He went on, “And sounds like I woke you up.”

“Yeah,” I told him, still, for some reason, whispering. “You did. I’m never up this early.”

“Never?”

“Well, never if I’m not working out. But I usually can’t muster up the energy to get out of a warm bed in order to go work out so I turn off the alarm, go back to sleep and go to the gym after work.”

He said nothing.

I kept talking.

“I have good intentions though.”

He again said nothing.

So I called, “Chace?”

His voice was deeper, huskier, softer and way, way sexier when he told me, “Sorry, baby, I’m back at you in a warm bed. What else did you say?”

My vaginal walls contracted and my nipples started tingling as I whispered in answer, “I forget.”

That was when I heard his deep, husky, soft, way, way sexy chuckle.

God. I was going to have an orgasm just listening to him chuckle!

“You staking out today?” he asked and I wasn’t following. I was concentrating on my body and memorizing the sound of his voice in the morning.

“Pardon?”

“Our kid, honey. After you lay out the stuff, you staking out?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll bring the coffees.”

My heart fluttered.

He’d bring the coffees.

This meant I’d see him again. And soon.

“Eight thirty?” he continued.

“Sounds good,” I replied in a vast understatement.

“See you soon, darlin’.”

“Soon, Chace.”

I listened to him disconnect. Then I put the phone back. After that, I smiled at my pillow. It was then my body caught my attention again and there was nothing for it. I reached to the drawer of the nightstand. As I was doing this, it occurred to me that I might have had the same effect on Chace as he had on me. It also occurred to me that he might do much what I intended to do because of it.

This meant when I pulled out my vibrator, my self-induced orgasm was off the charts.

The best.

By far.

After I was done, I put my toy away, stretched languorously and smiled again as I snuggled into my pillows.

It was early. I was awake. I had time.

I could relive the night before.

So I did. Happily.

After we got deep during pizza, Chace led us firmly out of deep. The good news was, after our conversation there wasn’t any residual heaviness underlying the evening. The other good news was, for the rest of the night, neither of us had a problem talking.

This, I had to admit, was mostly due to Chace guiding the evening. He asked more about my family. He asked about my schooling. He asked about my time in Denver and the grueling schedule I had, going back to Denver on the weekends to do my Master’s coursework while working at the library in Carnal. And he taught me how to make chocolate peanut butter sundaes which were exactly all their name cracked them up to be.

After that, with his arm light around my waist, he perused my shelves, my DVDs, my CDs, my books and the rest. He teased me about my chakram in a sweet way that wasn’t mean at all. It made me feel warm all over not to mention he made it clear he thought my geekiness was cute. He laughed when I cracked a joke. He told me when we watched TV he got to pick (suffice it to say, I was not wrong about Southland). He asked what “frak” meant and I explained it was how they said the f-word on Battlestar Gallactica which made him roar with laughter. The best part about that was I got to watch.

He also showed me what he got the boy. Deli turkey and swiss that he put in one of those disposable but reusable plastic storage tubs. Three bottles of different flavored energy drink. A box of Lucky Charms and one of Golden Grahams. More milk. Grapes washed and in another tub. A bag of washed, prepared baby carrots. Six different kinds of candy bars. A pack of paper plates, another of paper bowls. A set of camp cutlery. And a really nice Swiss army knife. It was thoughtful and generous and as we went through it, Ella Mae started singing to me again.

After that, we sat on my couch, Chace arranging us so we were sitting but also (yum!) cuddling and he told me more about his Mom. It was clear he loved her. He didn’t lie when he said they were tight because the things he said made it clear she loved him too. The only damper on the evening (though I didn’t expose I thought this, I just listened and smiled) was that it also sounded like she was mentally unstable. Strangely, Chace didn’t dance around it and the matter-of-fact way he described it made it sound disturbingly normal. Then again, maybe it wasn’t strange seeing as, for him, clearly since he could remember, it was a fact of life.

But I had to admit, it disturbed me. A father who was too hard on him, not a good role model when he was young and more not one when he was older who he detested and a Mom who wasn’t just flighty and sensitive but, perhaps, mentally ill didn’t sound good.

I had a close loving family. My Dad was a character. My Mom was a nurturer. My sister was a drama queen, but loving. My brother was a rebel, but also loving. I was a dreamer, a geek and shy, but, I hoped, loving.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around how Chace grew up. And the fact that he had no brothers or sisters (something Chace told me his Mom couldn’t do, something else that distressed her to an unhealthy extreme) made me sad. I’d lay down my life for Liza and Jude. They felt the same.

But no one had Chace’s back.

The more I learned, the more it seemed that this was ever. No one ever had his back. Not growing up. Not now. Not Misty. Definitely not his Dad. Not even his Mom who loved him, but depended on him. She was so frail, he had no choice but to do everything he could, even as a kid, not to depend on her.

These thoughts fled my head when Chace stopped our conversation on the couch and started kissing me. This didn’t last as long as I would have liked and got nowhere near past kissing. This was kind of a relief because I had a sense he understood I wasn’t experienced but I wasn’t sure he knew the extent of my inexperience and I wasn’t all fired up for him to know (just yet). But truthfully, it was more of a disappointment because, seriously, he was a good kisser and I was definitely into it. So into it, when he stopped it in a sweet way and in an equally sweet way announced it was time he was getting on, I was thinking that I could do nothing but just kiss him for eternity.

His leaving was not a relief, just a disappointment.

I didn’t share that, I just nodded.

He got up, pulled me out of the couch and walked me to the door. He put on his jacket. Then we made out more by the door.

He stopped that too (way too soon), kissed my nose in that sweet way he did in my office and murmured, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

He smiled.

Then he was gone.

I’d had four dates. Not a vast amount of experience.

Still, I knew that was not a good date.

It was a great one.

I knew this because it got heavy. It got deep. But it was also light and fun. He was interested in me, didn’t mind showing it and digging to learn more. He didn’t mind that I showed I was interested in him and, when I cautiously dug, he was open and honest. We laughed. We cuddled. We made out.

And chocolate peanut butter sundaes were the bomb.

Lying in bed thinking of our night, I sighed.

The last thing he did last night was promise to call.

The first thing he did this morning was keep his promise.

That was when, in bed, I smiled.

Then I threw back the covers and got out.

Eight twenty-nine the same day

I jumped when my passenger side door was thrown open but I didn’t cry out this time.

This was because I knew when I turned my head, I’d find Chace.

And this was what I found.

I smiled at him, accepted the heart flutter that witnessing his return smile gave me and saw he was in much the same outfit as yesterday. But under his jacket, he had an oatmeal, wool, crewneck sweater on over his jeans shirt, a jeans shirt that was a lot more faded. It looked good against his tanned skin so I hoped one day I’d see all of it.

It must be said that Chace’s clothes were cool. He always looked like he’d walked straight from the pages of a beer advertisement marketed toward wannabe cowboys, rodeo stars and country singers. But with him, the way he walked, held himself, his extreme masculinity, his height, the lean muscle evident under his clothes, it was not a case of the clothes making the man.

Not even close.

It was the other way around.

He was extending my coffee, I took it and he hefted himself in while I examined the cup.

Sunny or Shambles were branching out. In teal, purple, hot pink, tangerine, lime and yellow marker were stars and hearts with fat, colored in swirls around them. It actually was kind of a mini coffee cup work of art.

“Faye.”

My head came up from examining my coffee cup as my heart again fluttered at Chace saying my name in a soft voice.

The instant my head came up, he tagged me around the back of the neck and pulled me to him.

Then he kissed me.

This was a new one.

I had very limited experience kissing. In fact, the kisses I’d shared with Chace more than doubled the kisses I’d had my whole life. I liked them all (Chace’s, that was).

Including this one.

His mouth moved over mine then opened slightly so I followed suit. Then his tongue slid in, not a thrust, not an invasion but a lazy stroke.

My belly melted, my blood heated and I nearly lost my coffee.

He broke his mouth from mine but only moved about a millimeter away.

“Mornin’,” he whispered, his deep blue eyes looking into mine.

“Morning, Chace,” I whispered back and watched his eyes smile.

His hand took it’s time sliding from my neck, taking my hair with it in a way that felt like he was enjoying running it through his fingers.

Then he sat back in his seat and his eyes moved to the library.

I took an unsteady breath and took a sip of my coffee.

Another hazelnut latte. It didn’t occur to me yesterday but it occurred to me then that he had to have asked Sunny or Shambles what my usual was and got it for me.

A nice thing to do.

Having this thought, my eyes moved to the library too. I’d gotten smart and parked on the street but on the side opposite the library, about a house down. I’d also kept the heat pumping. But before this, I laid out the stash.

“I take it, you’re here, no sign of him yet,” Chace noted, eyes to the library, lifting his cup to his mouth and taking a sip after he was done talking.

“Nope,” I replied and watched him take a sip.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed. I way had. But having had those lips on mine and now sitting in my truck with him so close and no drama happening, it hit me in a way it never had before how attractive his lips were. The bottom one full, little sexy ridges in it, the top one well formed, more ridges, a perfect match.

It also hit me how square and strong his jaw was and that I’d never seen it, not once, with stubble on it. Not even a hint.

But I bet he’d look good with stubble.

Then again he’d look good with anything.

It further hit me that he had very cut cheekbones. So cut, they hollowed out his cheeks. Since he had a perfect, straight, strong nose, blond hair and blue eyes, that jaw, those lips, his cheekbones and those hollows adjusted his Man Category. Without them, he’d be the cute boy next door.

With them, he was the rugged, rural mountain town cop who’d seen it all, wasn’t impressed by much and didn’t take any shit.

It seemed strange, yet hot, that he dressed well, had a nice SUV, never had stubble, obviously took care of his body but yet his thick, dark blond hair hinted at unruly. It was swept back from his face in a natural way that didn’t suggest usage of product. I’d seen, on occasion, when there was wind and I’d noticed him outside, that locks of his hair would fall on his forehead. Or when I’d happened to see him running and he was sweating, I’d seen his hair plastered there. But usually, it looked nice, neat, taken care of.

But there were bits of it that curled around his ears and his strong neck. Unruly bits that curled in as well as out. A hint of wild. A hint of unkempt. Just that barest hint he needed a haircut but in a way, if I was asked, I’d get down on my knees and beg him not to do it. In a way that those unruly curls made me want to reach out, take hold of one and tug.

My belly melted again.

Chace’s head turned to me

“Got bad news.”

I blinked at his words that took me out of my very pleasant thoughts.

“What bad news?” I asked.

“Made plans last weekend with a buddy of mine. Goin’ to Deck’s tonight to catch the game. Which means I can’t take you out to dinner.”

I didn’t know we were going out to dinner. Even so, this news was fairly devastating since now I did know but we weren’t going so that was a huge bummer.

“Deck?” I queried.

“The cameras?” Chace for some reason queried back.

“Uh…” I mumbled, uncertain of my response to that and his lips tipped up.

“He’s my buddy who had the cameras. He’s a private detective, amongst other things. Lives in Chantelle. He helped me install ‘em Friday night.”

I felt my brows go up. “Amongst other things?”

“Actually, he isn’t a private detective. He just tells people he is. What he really is is a little scary. I ignore what he does because I’m a cop and if I didn’t I’d probably have to arrest him. We’re tight, have been since high school. He moved back this way about two years ago. Before that, by his account, he lived about everywhere. Since I think he’s not exaggerating but downplaying it, I figure he’s lived about everywhere and except for getting an audience with the Pope, done about everything.”

This Deck sounded interesting.

I didn’t share that. I just muttered, “Oh.”

“I’d cancel but Deck can be a dick when you cancel. He also doesn’t invite the boys over unless he intends to go all out. His own homemade beer that’s really fuckin’ good. Mexican layer dip and brownies that he makes that are even better. No joke. The man is six foot four, two hundred twenty pounds of muscled bulk and he makes dip and brownies. It’s a spread. And it’s a hassle puttin’ up with his attitude, you don’t show. So, I’m gonna show. But I’ll call you before you go to bed. I’ll make a reservation at The Rooster. We’ll go there tomorrow night. Can you be ready by six thirty?”

No, I couldn’t be ready to go to The Rooster at six thirty.

The library closed at six. Shutting everything down didn’t take forever but I wasn’t out until at least a quarter after. That meant I was home just moments before six thirty.

The Rooster was my favorite restaurant ever. It was a fancy steak joint in the mountains about a half an hour away. The views were amazing. The steaks melted in your mouth. The prices were astronomical but you’d sell your kidney without blinking just to trail your finger in their tri-peppercorn sauce and lick it clean.

I’d eaten there five times, all special occasions, and I’d never had anything that I didn’t consider the best I ever had. This was saying something since Denver had some amazing eateries and I partook copiously while living there when I was at Denver University and going back for my Master’s.

It was also one of the only places close by where you could dress up. Even in Denver, jeans were acceptable practically everywhere and considered formal attire in some circles depending on your top and footwear. But in Denver, women, and men, found their occasions to run the gamut of gorgeous apparel.

In the mountains, this was few and far between and in our area, The Rooster was one of the only places you could get by with going for the gusto.

On my first going out on a date well… date with Chace, I wanted to go for the gusto.

But I couldn’t go for the gusto if he was showing up on my doorstep about a nanosecond after I got home from work.

So no way I could be ready by six thirty.

I still said, “Yes.”

Chace didn’t reply. He just studied me.

Then he demonstrated yet again he could read my mind.

“How about this, can you be ready at seven thirty?”

That was way better.

“Yes,” I whispered on a small smile.

He grinned before he looked away, lifted his coffee cup but said to the lid before he took a sip, “Lookin’ forward to the show you got planned, baby.”

Panic instantly oozed from my every pore.

I liked my clothes. They were nice. Good quality. I thought they suited me. I had a few good getups for when I went back to Denver to meet friends or my family had special occasions that called for a little effort. And when I made an effort, I didn’t mind making a statement. Though, only a minor one.

But I had not one thing to wear on a date at The Rooster walking in on the arm of all the beauty that was Chace Keaton.

My mind quickly flipped through my options and this time, it settled on Lexie.

Krystal wore tank tops even in the winter. She might put a cardigan over them if she was heading outside, but even when it was super cold, that was all the effort she put into covering up and keeping warm.

Lauren always looked good. She used to be some executive but it was clear since she hit Carnal she’d embraced the biker babe lifestyle. This included her wardrobe if, compared to the vast number of other biker babes who lived in the vicinity, she injected a healthy dose of class.

But Lexie used to be a buyer at a department store. She wore high heels all the time, even high-heeled boots in the winter. Her husband was not a biker, he was a mechanic. A mechanic who owned a Dodge Viper and lived in one of the swank condos in the hills on the south end of town. Not to mention they were currently moving into an enormous house in an even more swank development in the eastern hills. I didn’t see him often but when I saw him with Lexie, he didn’t look like he could be in a beer ad. He looked like he could grace the cover of GQ. So Lexie didn’t embrace biker babe chic or mountain girl cute comfort. She always, but always, looked phenomenal.

So I hoped she was free to go with me to the mall that night on an emergency mission.

“Incoming,” Chace muttered as I made mental plans with Lexie and took a sip of my latte.

My eyes snapped up and I saw the boy stealthily rounding the building. I noted immediately even from our distance that the eye wasn’t swollen anymore, the bruises were fading but not gone and the cut on his lip was still noticeably angry. He’d received a thrashing. Over a week and the evidence was still there.

The only thing that made me feel better about this was he was wearing the coat I gave him, the hat and the new jeans. But it was nippy. He really should put on the gloves and scarf.

I watched as he took his time and, as he did, he looked through the lot and surprisingly straight at the spot I’d been parked in yesterday, like he expected to see us there.

Like he’d seen us there yesterday.

Strange. Very strange. So strange it sent my body sliding toward Chace’s. My shoulder bumped his and, without taking his eyes off the boy, his arm shoved behind me and rounded my waist.

My hand went out and my fingers curled around his thigh.

We watched in silence as he approached the bags, crouched by them but he didn’t take time to dig through. He just grabbed them and motored to the back of the library, around and he was gone.

“Made us,” Chace muttered and I turned my head to look at him.

“What?”

He dipped his chin and twisted his neck to look at me, it hit me then how close he was but I didn’t move back.

Not a centimeter.

“Made us even before he grabbed the shit yesterday,” he answered. “My guess, just now, he scouted the area, didn’t see us on the street so he made his approach from the direction he came from. This means he led me off-track yesterday. He approached from the front, left around the front, headed toward town. Approached from the back this time, thinking we aren’t here. Wherever he goes, he approaches the library from the back.”

“Um… aren’t you going after him now?”

He gave my hip a squeeze, I read the command, pushed back into my seat and Chace looked out the window, his profile contemplative while answering.

“No. Want him to feel safe. Don’t want him to think it’s a trap. He needed that shit yesterday. He knows he can outrun us or lose us. He saw us before he even returned the books. Maybe he knew he could get away, didn’t want to waste the effort of walkin’ here from wherever to return the books. Maybe he thinks we’re no threat. No fuckin’ idea. But now, I think we should keep a distance, keep givin’ and hope he takes you up on your invitation and gives back. Writes a note. Gets comfortable. Gets to know you. Maybe he’ll approach us.”

This sounded like a good plan.

Or at least it did until Chace hissed, “Fuck,” with a lot more emotion than he’d been talking with a mere moment before.

“Chace?” I whispered but his eyes didn’t leave the library.

“Saw it yesterday, saw it clearer today,” he replied.

“What?”

His eyes turned to me and I caught my breath at the anger I read in them. I was stunned that his seemingly mellow mood had shifted in an instant.

“His face, Faye. That’s a week of healin’.” He shook his head and his gaze moved back to the library on another, “Fuck.”

I reached out a hand and curled it on his knee, leaning into him, whispering, “Chace.”

He shook his head again once but spoke. “Not eatin’ right, no medicine, no water to clean, probably doesn’t even know to do it. That’ll all delay healing but that doesn’t mean that kid didn’t get nailed. He got fuckin’ nailed. Nine years old, slinkin’ around for food, dumpster diving, I’m across the goddamned street and all I can do for his sake is sit on my ass, watch and wait.”

Entire verses of “Holding Out for a Hero” crashed in my brain.

As they did, I squeezed his knee and called softly, “Honey.”

Instantly, his head turned to me but I was so focused on his anger for the boy, I didn’t see the expression on his face.

“He’s got food. I’ll put medicine out tomorrow and tell him how to use it. Shampoo, soap, a washcloth, a towel, suggest he finds someplace to clean up. Urge him to eat the fruit and veggies. Maybe buy some vitamins and ask him to take those too. We’ll take care of him and then we’ll get him.”

“I know we’ll get him, darlin’, and that’ll be good. But who I really wanna get is whoever fucked him up.”

I pressed my lips together because he said that like he meant it a whole lot.

Then I unpressed my lips and replied quietly, “I want you to get him too.”

His eyes moved over my face before coming back to mine and he whispered back, “Then I will.”

I smiled at him.

He leaned in and touched his mouth to mine.

Unfortunately, he leaned right back and said softly, “Gotta get to work.”

“Right,” I replied.

“Call you before you go to bed.”

I smiled again and repeated, “Right.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth before they came back to mine, he leaned in several inches and whispered, “I’d take that mouth, but that’d mean I’d be makin’ out with you in your car on the street. The town’s pretty librarian doesn’t need that kinda talk.”

This was disappointing.

Until he finished, “Least not yet.”

I smiled again.

Chace awarded me a return smile.

Then he took off and I drove my Cherokee into the lot, parked and went to the library.

Nine fifty-five that night

I was on my back on my couch, feet in the seat, knees to the ceiling, apple candle burning, snapping a piece of bubblemint in my mouth, the last glass of the wine Chace brought the night before mostly consumed and sitting on a table beside me.

I had my Nook in my hand and I was reading.

Lexie was luckily free. Her friend Wendy was not on shift at Bubba’s so she came with us to the outlet mall. They were both not only free, but also beside themselves with glee that we were going to the mall because I was going out with Chace. Lexie especially. She was delighted and didn’t mind showing it.

This felt good.

It also felt hopeful.

I liked my clothes but contradictorily, I wasn’t a shopper. Luckily, I knew what I liked and I knew where to get it so my shopping experience was as narrow as my life had been (that was to say, as narrow as it was a couple of weeks ago).

Lexie and Wendy took me to the outlet mall and opened up an entire world to me.

This was why I came back not only with an outfit that even I thought was fan-freaking-tastic to go out with Chace in but also four other bags of clothes, shoes and (it made me blush but that didn’t mean I didn’t hope it wouldn’t eventually come in handy), sexy undies and nightgowns.

They were having the time of their lives and I did too. I didn’t know shopping could be such a blast. But with those two, it totally was.

Now I was home, unwinding, trying to read at the same time wondering if Chace liked dogs and/or cats. Since Holly didn’t mind pets, I’d been thinking now for months about getting one or the other. This was what was on my mind when my phone rang.

It was the house phone again so I twisted, grabbed the handset from the charger by the couch, beeped it on and put it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby.”

My bent knees fell to the back of the couch, I felt my eyelids go half-mast and I licked my lips.

Yes, all this from a greeting.

“Hey Chace,” I whispered. “Having fun?”

“It’s a game, honey, not a parade.”

My head cocked to the side at his words and tone and I asked, “That isn’t fun?”

“Not when my team is losing.”

“Oh,” I muttered then enquired, “Who’s your team?”

He hesitated and I heard sounds in the background of a TV clearly on a sporting event before he replied, “The Nuggets, Faye.”

Right, of course.

“Basketball,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, honey. Football’s done in January.”

I was still mumbling when I replied, “I heard something about that somewhere.”

His team losing grouchiness faded and I knew this when I heard his chuckle.

“You could be watching the Avalanche,” I pointed out.

“Avs are on the road. West coast. Deck’s tapin’ it. That’s next.”

“Oh,” I whispered then, “Long night of male camaraderie.”

“Deck doesn’t break out the beer, dip and brownies unless there’s serious shit to watch.”

I was with Deck. All that effort should be for something.

“Deck sounds interesting,” I noted.

“Yeah, he is and every breathing female thinks the same thing.”

A small, short giggle escaped me and I asked, “Pardon?”

“The amount he gets means he’s either a good-lookin’ guy or he’s got the ability to hypnotize women that’s undetectable but highly successful though the purposes he uses it for are nefarious.”

“Ah,” I replied through a smile, “breaking that down, he’s hot.”

“I can’t make that call but I’m a detective so evidence suggests this is true.”

I laughed softly and I knew Chace listened to it because he didn’t speak again until I was done.

“You gettin’ ready for bed?”

I blinked and looked at the funky clock mounted on my brick wall that I found in a cute shop in Glenwood Springs as I asked, “Bed?”

“Bed,” Chace replied.

“It’s ten o’clock,” I told him.

“When do you go to bed?”

“I don’t know, midnight?”

There was silence.

“Uh, when do you go to bed?” I asked.

“If I’m not drinkin’ beer and eatin’ homemade brownies, ten.”

“Early to bed, early to rise,” I whispered.

“Late to bed, lazy in the morning,” he whispered back.

“I’m not lazy.” I kept whispering.

“Baby, give me that. The thought of you, lazy in bed in the morning is a good one.”

That got a full body shiver and a quick mental inventory of my junk drawer to see if I had fresh batteries for my vibrator.

“I’m not sure this is fair.” Yes, still whispering. “You being at Deck’s with beer and brownies, me being here and you being sweet and um… other things.”

“Other things?” His voice was teasing.

“Yeah, other things,” My voice was soft.

“Fuck me,” he muttered then kept muttering the weird words. “Cute. Hot.”

“What?”

“Nothin’, darlin’. It sucks but I’m gonna let you go. Boys’re givin’ me looks which means they’re listenin’. That means they’re gonna give me shit so I should probably not hand them more to give me shit about.”

I didn’t know if saying it was right or wrong because of how much it exposed about how much I didn’t want to let him go.

I also didn’t care.

This was why I suggested, “You could move to another room.”

“Yeah, your sweet voice for any longer, the other room I’m gonna move to is your one room apartment. That right there from the grins I’m gettin’ bought me a load of shit so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“When you get to sleep in three, four hours, sleep good.”

Teasing again.

God, I loved that.

So much, I laughed softly then I replied, “When you finish male bonding and get home, you sleep good too, Chace.”

“Will do. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

“Fuck me,” he whispered and it was a surprise so I blinked then asked, “What?”

“Nothin’, baby. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Chace.”

“’Night, darlin’.”

“’Night, Chace.”

He disconnected and I beeped off the phone. Then I brought it to my lips and smiled against it.

Huge.

Six oh four the next morning

My home phone rang.

I drifted up from sleep, tipped my eyes to my clock and smiled a sleepy smile.

Then I went straight for the phone.

“’Lo,” I whispered.

“Baby,” Chace whispered back.

I snuggled deeper under the covers even though his voice made me way warm and cuddly.

“Hey honey,” I said soft. “You get home okay or are you deep in the mountains recovering from a ceremonial male bonding ritual after killing a bear?”

I got a husky, drowsy, sexy chuckle that made me feel warmer and way cuddlier then, “I got home okay.”

“Good,” I muttered.

“You sleep okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled.

This got me nothing.

I waited.

Still nothing.

“Chace?”

“I’m here.”

“You were quiet,” I told him something he knew.

“You sound half asleep.”

“I’m not,” I kind of lied.

“Maybe not, honey, but you sound it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll let you go after you tell me if you took care of our kid.”

“All good,” I said softly. “Bottle of ibuprofen, kid’s multi-vitamins and some Neosporin. The other stuff I told you I’d do yesterday. Some more food to keep him stocked up. Another note telling him how to use the ointment and to get a wash if he can.”

“You don’t need me to pop ‘round the store to pick anything up?”

“No, honey.”

“All right, baby. Now go back to sleep.”

“Chace?”

“Yeah?”

“In the note, I told him a little bit about you. Just who you are, that you’re cool, he has nothing to worry about and you’re helping me look out for him. Was that okay?”

“Yeah, Faye. That’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I wanted to talk to him until the earth started revolving around the moon.

I didn’t tell him that.

I said, “’Kay.”

“See you later, honey.”

“Later, Chace.”

He disconnected.

I beeped off my phone.

I didn’t think I could get back to sleep.

But I did.

Eight thirty-two that same morning

My eyes on the return bin, Chace’s coffee on my dash, mine in my hand, my car parked on the street, I waited for the boy and Chace.

I’d texted him to say coffee was my treat. He’d texted back to give me his order and tell me he’d pay me back when he got to my Cherokee. I texted him back and asked him if he knew what “my treat” meant. He texted me back with, Baby, I’ll give you money when I get to your SUV.

These were simple words on a phone display but I still could read the tone.

My text back was, Oh, all right.

I expected that would be the end but I got a one word reply.

Cute.

God, Chace Keaton was fraking awesome.

My cell rang. I pulled it out of my purse and saw the display said, “Chace Calling”.

I felt a little thrill shiver over my skin and took the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey honey. Bad news. Got a callout. I can’t do the stakeout with you today.”

That was a huge fraking bummer.

“Okay,” I replied.

“I’ll be at your place tonight, seven thirty.”

“Does seven thirty mean our reservation is at eight?”

“Eight fifteen, in case we hit traffic or weather.”

“Will this mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin on the way back, considering we’ll probably get home past your bedtime?”

Silence then, “Now she gives me smartass and it’s still fuckin’ cute.”

I smiled.

The boy showed.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed on a muted cry. “He’s back.”

“How’s he look?”

I studied him as he made his careful way to the return bin. “He’s wearing my coat, new jeans. The hat. He really should wear the gloves and scarf I bought him. It’s cold. I’ll put that in my next note.” Then, quietly, “Lip still bad.”

“He uses the Neosporin, it’ll help.”

“Yeah.”

I listened to Chace sigh as I watched the boy make it to the bags.

“He get ‘em?” Chace asked.

“He’s going for them now.”

“Good,” he muttered then, “Gonna let you go. See you tonight.”

“Tonight, Chace.”

“Later, honey.”

He disconnected.

I watched the boy walk away with the bags.

I gave it time, secured Chace’s coffee (latte, triple shot) and then drove into the lot.

I took Chace’s coffee with me into the library and I drank it after mine. This meant I was wired all morning.

Or it could be my date with Chace that night that made me wired.

It didn’t matter.

It felt like I was dancing on air.

Seven thirty that evening

“Frak, frak, frickity frak, frak, frak,” I muttered, looking at myself in the full length mirror on the inside of my wardrobe door.

This wasn’t me.

It was hot.

But it wasn’t me.

I was wearing a sweater dress the color of a green olive, a color that Lexie told me would work for me in a big way with my coloring and she was not wrong.

The dress was awesome. Formfitting (very), it went down to just above the knee, had a deep, wide vee in the front that exposed the skin of my chest and collarbone but only a hint of cleavage. The sleeves were tight all the way down and went past my wrists. And there was some vertical detailing in the knit that was sensational. It made me look taller at the same time accentuated my curves. There was more of it around the waistline so it gave even more of a sense of an hourglass figure than I already had and one could say my figure was extremely hourglass.

In a moment of idiocy, I’d looked up straight hair hairstyles on the internet to get ideas. When I got home, I did a bit of fluffing, spraying, tousling and teasing, the last just at the top back, and swept just the hair at the top of my forehead back about an inch, securing it with bobby pins painted dark brown. But the fullness and teasing at the back gave it a sex kitten vibe that even I had to admit looked really good.

I’d added more makeup than I usually used, deepening it a bit, some green around my eyes but not going overboard because I never felt comfortable with a lot of makeup caked on. But with the hair and dress, the effect was astonishing.

I had on silver hoop earrings that were long and an intricate five tier silver necklace that was a mixture of green, brown, purple and dark blue beads, small silver balls with some short silver spikes.

It all wasn’t me .Yet it was, just not in the me sense of me but in the Me! sense of me.

It was the boots that did it. Dark brown, patent leather with a pointed toe, four inch, spiked heel and a super thin strap around the ankle with a tiny buckle at the side that made my ankle look delicate and gave a classy, stylish rock ‘n’ roll look to the boots.

They weren’t hot. They were smokin’ hot.

The whole getup made me look sexy.

It made me feel sexy.

I liked it a whole lot while at the same time it freaked me out a whole lot more.

Because I wondered what Chace would think about it.

And I hoped like all fraking heck that he’d like it.

A knock came at the door and I jumped.

Oh God, he was there.

Frak.

I closed the wardrobe door and secured it with the little latch, sucked in a huge breath and walked across my apartment belatedly thinking I should have had a glass of wine (or two) while I was getting ready.

I pulled off the chain, undid the deadbolt and opened the door.

Chace was wearing a heavy denim, western stitched, slimfit shirt that looked like it was once black but then it had been left out in the elements for a year and after dragged behind a truck for a thousand miles so it was now a dark, distressed gray. Once this was accomplished, it clearly had been blessed by a tough as nails ninety year old cowboy who could still lasso a steer going flat out on his horse and this blessing happened during a sacred rite like all clothing that was kickass should be.

Over it, Chace wore a well-tailored black wool sports jacket. Dark blue jeans. Black cowboy boots and a black tooled leather belt with a silver belt buckle with a subtle cow’s skull imprinted on it.

My mouth started watering and I had to curl my hand around the edge of the door to remain standing because my legs started trembling.

I lifted my eyes to his face and whispered, “Hi.”

At my voice sounding, his eyes, pointed down and aimed around my breast/midriff area, shot to mine.

Then, one second I was standing in the door, the next second I had my back against it, Chace against my front, one of his arms around my waist, one in my hair, cupping the back of my head and his tongue was in my mouth.

This was another, different, kind of kiss.

I thought the one in my office was deep, thorough and heated.

It had nothing on this.

It wasn’t only the delicious tongue action. There were heads slanting this way and that (both of ours). Hair being gripped (only mine) and gripped in a sexy way that pulled at my scalp rough but gentle and so hot I felt the area between my legs get wet. Hands were doing a lot of roaming (three of them, one of Chace’s, both of mine under his sports jacket).

It was wild. Abandoned. Rough. Wet. Intense. Fiery. Thorough. Exquisite. Heart-pounding. Blood-singing. Soul-rocking. Life-altering.

Luscious.

When Chace tore his mouth from mine, I actually felt it take a supreme effort for him to do it. His strong hand was cupping my behind. His other one was fisted in my hair. One of my arms was cocked, forearm and palm pressed flat against his lat, pulling him to me. My other arm was wound around his back, hand fisted in his shirt. Our breath was coming heavy, fast, mingling as it brushed our lips.

I slowly opened my eyes and at what I saw in his, another rush of wet surged between my legs and my fist in his shirt tightened.

Undone by the kiss, forlorn that it ended, mindlessly and idiotically I asked the first question that popped into my head.

“Do you like my dress?”

Chace’s head jerked even as he blinked. When his features righted he stared down at me half a second before his hand went out of my hair, his other one slid up my back and both of his arms closed around me super tight. He bent his head, shoved his face in my neck and burst out laughing.

I decided to take that as a yes.

Eleven seventeen that night

“I gotta go, baby,” Chace whispered against my lips.

We were making out, standing just inside my door. We’d arrived back about ten minutes ago. I still had my coat on, Chace his jacket. When we stepped in, he’d closed the door but immediately pulled me into his arms.

Dinner was fabulous (not a surprise). Conversation was easy. Smiles were frequent. Laughter the same.

In the car there and back, I found out Chace listened to country (also not a surprise) and it was good country.

Now the night was over.

And I really, really didn’t want it to be.

Still, I whispered back, “Okay.”

Chace didn’t move, not even his lips that were still a breath from mine.

“Good mornin’ call tomorrow.”

Goodie!

“Okay.”

“My turn for our kid but I didn’t have time to do anything.”

“That’s okay. On my lunch hour I bought him some more books, some comics, a flashlight, some batteries, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a few packs of gum, more water and some more candy bars. I also wrote the note and added a notepad and some pens so he could write back.”

I felt Chace’s smile against my lips at the same time I saw it in his eyes.

“I’ll take the weekend,” he offered.

“All right,” I accepted.

“We’ll win him, Faye.”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Want that mouth again before I go, baby. Soft this time,” he whispered back.

“Okay,” I breathed, got up on my toes and touched my lips gently to his hoping I was doing it right.

Then I moved back.

The gentle look in his eyes told me I did it right and I felt like the queen of the world.

He lifted his lips to kiss my nose, his arms gave me a squeeze then he let me go.

He turned to the door, had it open and was walking out when I called, “It was a really good night, honey, thank you.”

He turned back to me, his beautiful blue eyes hit mine and his face was solemn.

“No it wasn’t, Faye,” he replied and my heart squeezed. Then he finished quietly, “It was a fuckin’ great one.”

At that, my heart flipped.

Chace closed the door.

I stared at it.

Then I sucked in breath.

After that, I twirled, skip-danced to my bed, flopped back on it and smiled at the ceiling.

Huge.