by J. P. Hansen
Back at home, Parker put up his usual battle for a delayed bedtime. Chase compromised by agreeing to read a story before light’s out. “This one.” Parker handed his father “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.” As he finished reading, Aesop’s message of always telling the truth hit Chase hard. Thinking there are no coincidences, he glanced up, wondering if this was one of those not-so-subtle times.
Chase set the book on the bedside table, and said, “Let’s say your special prayer.”
Parker looked exhausted as the fun from earlier caught up. Chase said, “Lord…” and waited for Parker to join in, “Help me be the best I can. Help me to do what’s right and treat other people like I want to be treated. Amen.”
As Chase stood, Parker said, “What about our special prayer for mommy?”
“Oh, sorry.” Sitting back down on the bed, Chase brushed his son’s curly hair back and said, “What do you want to say?”
“Lord, please help mommy get better and come home to play with me. Amen.”
Chase stood up and turned away so his son wouldn’t see his tears. Parker’s sweet voice—the voice of an angel—played on his heartstrings. He missed his mother. No matter how nice of a day Parker spent with him, he missed mommy. How could she ever do this to such an innocent child?
With slumped shoulders, Chase trudged back to his bedroom. He approached the bed, the same bed where Parker was conceived and dropped to his knees. He said his own prayer, Lord God, thank you for all my blessings. I’m not here to question your will, but for some reason, you’re testing me. I accept it even though I don’t fully understand. Please bestow me the strength to raise Parker, to be his father and his mother all in one. I really tried today but feel I’ve failed. Please help me.
Chapter 9
Brooke tossed and turned all night, until her alarm rang like a sonic boom. She needed caffeine this morning, thinking maybe this was divine intervention. Today would be a perfect day to run. As each inactive day accumulated, she felt flabby and lethargic. Inspecting her ankle, the black and blue appeared light gray with blue highlights. Improvement. She was nowhere near ready for a run, but she desperately needed exercise. She clutched the ankle supports as if weighing them. Brooke then studied the padding on her running shoes. Why not? A short jog couldn’t hurt. The clincher loomed on the wall—Tanner’s Sports Illustrated photo delivering a bone-crunching tackle while still recovering from a major injury. If Tanner could play like that on a bum hip, I can jog.
Brooke began with a brisk walk, then started jogging. The ankle responded well so far. Her mind shifted from focusing on the injury to what had really kept her up all night. She still wanted to strangle Chase for putting GenSense—and everything she had worked so hard for—on hold. How dare he call it futuristic. Genetic research had progressed to successful gene therapy and Pharmical had the life-saving treatment stuck in meeting abyss. They had enough interest to buy it up, but lacked the guts to advance it. Without innovation and backbone, no medical advances would have ever happened. Remorse seeped inside for letting Chase off the hook, and for storming out. He must think I’m an emotional wreck. Well, I’ll find out soon enough.
The jog lasted twenty minutes, and it was the best she’d felt in weeks. The ankle tightened but the rest of her relaxed. Nothing a little ice couldn’t cure. After a nice hot shower and quality mirror time, she was good to go. For the first time since the injury, she wore heels. Not her sexiest ones, but still much more appealing than flats. With one last inspection in the mirror, Brooke smiled at her knee-length tan skirt and sleeveless blouse. Not exactly Pharmical code, but perfect for a hot summer day. With a nod, she headed out.
Her palms moistened, making it harder than usual to steer her Lexus. Glancing at her speedometer, her eyes widened—I better slow down. She wasn’t exactly sure why she felt nervous. There was a good chance he wouldn’t be there, after all. Ruth could have been his gopher. But, if not, how would he respond to seeing her? How would she react? As long as he didn’t say futuristic again, she’d be okay; if he did, anything could happen with steaming hot liquid in her hand.
Brooke parked out of sight across the street from Starbucks. She could still picture the two oversized Starbucks cups on his desk—a dead giveaway. She slid on her oversized sunglasses and floppy hat, looking more like Lady Gaga in a grocery store than a vice president of a major corporation. She laughed at her reflection in the rearview mirror. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.
Ten minutes passed like ten years. Brooke had decided if he didn’t show up within thirty minutes, she’d pop into work. While applying fresh lipstick for the umpteenth time, she noticed the unmistakable red car barreling toward her from two blocks away. She ducked, pulled off her ridiculous hat, then shut off her ignition. She counted to ten, heart pounding, then peeked up. Coast clear. She wondered if he whizzed by, then she spotted him striding into Starbucks.
After a final glance in her rearview mirror, she drew a deep breath, then opened her car door. She figured she had time and he couldn’t see her hiding spot. Brooke strode with the best posture she could manage on a still-sprained ankle that officially ached right now. Nearing the entrance, she drew a deep breath and whispered, “Showtime.”
Brooke pulled the glass door open and paused at the entrance to allow her eyes to adjust. A burst of ground coffee drowned out any remnants of his aroma—pity. Most of the chairs were taken with paper readers and writer wannabe’s. Surveying the narrow store, she spotted Chase standing in line conversing with a young lady in front of him. She didn’t think it could be his wife since he drove up alone. Just Chase being friendly. And, he looked magnificent from the side—even better than in the boardroom.
She sauntered up behind him still unnoticed. Brooke inhaled his delicious fragrance as she eavesdropped his small talk. Mmmmm, she thought, wanting to slide her hands under his suit coat and across his chest. A tingling sensation eased her trepidation about the other day. She wanted to speak, but enjoyed hearing his voice—and the chance to eye him up and down at such close range.
A guy in a business suit entered and headed over to the line. Brooke panicked, thinking what if Chase knew him? She pictured affable Chase spinning around to say hello while she stood there drooling. Still at a loss for words, she tapped Chase on his shoulder. He stopped speaking and glanced back over his burly shoulder. Recognizing Brooke, his eyes widened and fell back a half step, nearly bumping into the woman in front of him. “Hey Brooke. What’re you doing here?”
“Same thing as you sir.”
His brows furrowed. “I thought you didn’t like coffee?”
Brooke marveled at how attractive he was, even frowning. “Um, hello, Starbucks sells tea also.”
“And good tea.” The woman in front of Chase said, hoping to rejoin the conversation. Chase remained fixated on Brooke’s aqua eyes, and said, “Either you’ve grown or I’m shrinking.” Chase chuckled.
Brooke realized he hadn’t ventured below her cleavage and said, “I’m wearing heels for the first time since my injury.”
Chase leaned back and stared at her feet, then slowly ran his eyes up her body, admiring every inch.
Brooke slid her front teeth against her lower lip as her knees buckled. It was as if his lashes tickled her skin to allow his X-ray vision to penetrate. The pain in her ankle magically subsided.
The line edged forward like dominoes, temporarily breaking their spell. Chase said, “You healed fast. Does it still hurt?”
Before Brooke could answer, the girl behind the counter said, “Are you having the usual, Chase?”
Chase spun around, startled, and said, “Oh, hey Tonya. I’m sorry. You’re fast today. The usual it is—you know me.” The purplish-black hair and multiple piercings on the young girl looked more like Berkeley than Durham. Brooke wondered if she leaked when she drank and laughed inside as she imagined her applying for a job at Pharmical. Chase nodded at a nearby twenty-something black man with tight cornrows and facial scars that resembled
the singer Seal. He said, “What’s up, A-Man?”
“Same ole, same ole, Marcus. You?”
“Ditto dat. Ditto dat.” They both shared a hearty laugh.
Brooke stood wide-eyed, mouthing A-Man? She couldn’t believe Chase befriended these workers—to a CEO, they were truly the little people. Yet, Miss Piercings was on a first name basis and Mr. Cornrows sounded like a college buddy. Her father always said: Character is best revealed by how someone treats another who can do nothing for him or her. These words of wisdom rang true about Chase. And to think my daddy called him a shark.
An even greater revelation struck Brooke: Chase waited in line, bought, and picked up his own coffee. His status elevated above the clouds. Is this guy real or am I dreaming? Does he have at least one fault?
Tonya placed two cups on the counter and said, “Anything else before I put these on your account?”
“Oh yeah, please add whatever my friend is having.” Chase wrapped his arm around Brooke’s shoulder and pulled her up to the counter beside him. Her heart ran like a jet before takeoff. Tonya said, “What can I get ya?”
Oh shit. Brooke’s face flushed—she had never been to a Starbucks. She didn’t understand why anyone would ever wait in long lines for overpriced and overrated coffee. Now, she had to sound like a regular. The overcrowded menu on the back wall read like a foreign language, especially while blinking like a hummingbird’s wings. She almost blurted give me your Coffee Breath of the Day. Miss Piercings’s stare didn’t help.
Brooke said, “I’ll have a tea.”
Piercings said, “Um, we have like a bazillion teas. Which one, ma’am?”
Ma’am? I’m not old enough to call me ma’am. “What’s y’all’s most popular?”
Tonya rolled her eyes. “I don’t drink tea…but, our most popular is Chai Tea Latte.”
“Perfect.”
“What size?”
“Large.”
Piercings shifted her weight as if she broke a leg. “They come in Tall, Grande, and Venti.”
“Uh, the same size as he’s having.” Brooke looked like she was attempting to rob a bank with her finger and thumb.
“Venti?”
“Sure, whatever.”
Marcus wheeled and started preparing Brooke’s order. He didn’t want to keep Mr. A-Man waiting. Tonya pulled the receipt and set it in front of Chase. After signing, he dropped a five dollar bill into the tip jar. Brooke smiled at him. Chase grabbed his two cups and Brooke saw something strange—no wedding band. She thought, that’s a first. Did he slip it off?
Chase carried his coffee over to the side where the creams and sugars were located. Brooke stood at the counter. Tonya pointed her eyes toward Chase and said, “You wait over there for it. We’ll bring it to you.”
Brooke felt like screaming, thinking why didn’t he have to wait? Rather than saying something—and looking stupid again—she bit her lip and sauntered over to Chase’s side. He looked like a scientist devising a secret potion as he added nutmeg, cinnamon, and two packets of Splenda to each steaming coffee. Marcus set Brooke’s tea on the side counter and said, “Chai Tea Latte for the lady. Did I leave you enough air on top, A-Man?”
“Looks good.”
Marcus flashed his grills then said, “Sorry about the other day.”
“No problem—I’m just very particular about my coffee.”
“It’s all good A-Man. I’m just here to please.”
Brooke’s eyes bounced like she was tableside at a ping pong match, unable to keep score. Chase popped the lids back on each coffee and turned to Brooke and smiled. “Would you please join me?”
“Sure.” She spotted an open small table in the corner and hoped he’d nab it.
He waited, then said, “Don’t you put anything in your tea?”
“Uh, no. Not usually.”
“Really? Okay, let’s go sit down, there’s a table.” Holding the coffees like bombs about to detonate, he motioned with his eyes for her to lead. Brooke realized she was staring at his lashes again, then bumped herself forward. Her ankle throbbed each time her heel landed on the hard floor. She realized her slight limp, but was still happy she wore the heels. She felt Chase’s eyes like a magnifying glass burning a leaf.
Nearing the table, Chase slid around beside her and set his coffees on the table. Brooke inhaled and closed her eyes for an instant that she wanted to savor—his scent blended well with the aromas of fresh brewed coffee. Even though coffee breath repulsed her, she had to admit it smelled inviting. Chase pulled the chair out and held it for Brooke. She smiled as she gracefully lowered herself on the chair—without falling this time.
After sitting across from Brooke, Chase sipped coffee number one and Brooke sampled her tea. “How’s your tea?”
“It’s fine, thanks.” Brooke pursed her lips. “How’s your coffee, Mister Picky?”
“Not as hot as usual. I prefer 175 degrees exactly and this is closer to 170. I hope the other one is 185.”
That explained the “H” written on top of the lid of the untouched coffee. Brooke wondered if he had a thermometer chip in his mouth. “You seem pretty particular about your coffees, Mr. A-Man?” Brooke smiled as she emphasized A-Man.
Chase chuckled, then turned serious and said, “I can’t drink coffee when it’s lukewarm. Also, I hate it when they fill it too full.” Brooke frowned. A thistle in the daisy patch popped up—Chase had quirks. If he’s this anal-retentive about coffee, I can only imagine how impossible he’d be to cook for. Or live with.
“Can’t you just mike it?”
“Never. It ruins the flavor.”
Brooke peered to the side as she considered this. He’d never appreciate my freezer-based menu. She wondered if he popped his popcorn on a stove-top. Or cooked a Lean Cuisine in the oven. “Do you ever use a microwave?”
“Not if I can avoid it. Those things turn bread into hockey pucks and destroy most anything else.”
Considering his V-shape, Brooke figured he was no bakery expert. This rendered his logic moot. Did his wife have to wait till he left to thaw something out? And, where’s his ring? I’m dying to ask. Instead, “Well, I went running this morning for the first time.”
“So, you’re ready for our run together.” It sounded more like a command than a question.
Brooke smirked, then said, “Actually, it was more like a slow jog. I think I pushed it too much. My ankle’s sore.”
“Didn’t Dixon tell you to stay off it for at least eight weeks?”
“I don’t remember. He creeped me out and lost all credibility with me last week. I won’t go back.”
Chase choked and barely avoided a coffee catastrophe. His eyes narrowed, “I remember you saying that. What did he do?” Even upset, he still looked cute with those collector’s lashes.
“Every time I go in there, he hits on me.” Brooke had worked hard on her tact—Shane would be proud—but, she couldn’t hide her contempt for Chase’s college buddy.
“You’re kidding me?”
Brooke shook her head back and forth in robotic motion.
“Worse than the first time you saw him?”
Brooke nodded.
“I’m sorry, I really am. I think when he sees me, he reverts back to college.”
“I understand. I don’t hold it against you. Some of my college friends make Dixon look harmless.” Brooke hoped she didn’t sound like a prude. A side of her felt honored that a well-respected physician—who no doubt, had his pick of young nurses—found her attractive. The sterile patient’s room just wasn’t the place to start a romance. Judging from Chase’s reddening face—still cute when angry—Dixie-dawg would receive a well deserved scolding. She’d love to listen in on that call.
Chase glanced at his watch, then said, “I have an early conference call so I better leave.”
“Thanks for the tea.”
“You’re welcome.” Chase heaved a sigh, then said, “There’s not enough time in the day.”
“I’d
better head to work too. I don’t want to upset my boss.” Brooke twirled a few strands of hair and licked her lips. Chase forgot his own name.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go running?”
Brooke smiled and nodded as Chase stood to leave. She lingered for a moment to catch his strut from behind one last time.
***
“Why do you have to be such a fuck up?”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I’m heading into surgery in a few minutes, so quit beating around the bush.”
“I told you to behave around Brooke.”
“I did.”
“You most certainly did NOT.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dixon’s voice cracked like a pimpled teenager.
“I can’t believe you—you really are a fucking dawg. You crossed the line for the second time.”
“Hey, if I did, I’m sorry. But you can’t blame me.”
“What?”
“She’s smoking hot. And just cuz she’s off limits for you, she’s fair game for me.”
“Would your fiancée agree?”
“Don’t go there...”
“Do you hit on all your patients?”
“If they look like Brooke, absofuckinglutely.”
“You’re unfuckingbelievable, you know that. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d run you over in the parking lot and leave you for road kill.”
“No, you wouldn’t—not with that beemer. I’d wreck your engine.” Settled at a traffic light, Chase realized the wide eyed people in the car next to him heard his squabble. He brooded, unable to laugh at his buddy’s feeble attempt to lighten him up.
Dixon broke the silence, saying, “There are two types of women: the ones I’d do and the ones I’d probably do.”
“Probably?”
“That’s what alcohol’s for—to eradicate the probably.”