by Cate Beauman
“So you can come?”
“Definitely. Book me something and I’ll be on my way.”
“Awesome, man. I appreciate this. I’ll get you something for mid-morning. You can be back in Washington by Friday night.”
“Whatever you need.”
“I owe you. I’ll text you your flight information.”
“Sounds good.”
“Take vitamin C and eat some damn fruits and vegetables or something. Everyone’s dropping like flies around here.”
He grinned. “Got it.”
“Thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.” He hung up and sighed, shoving his phone away. Plane rides and pulling duty for the Tatiana Livingston Christmas Spectacular wasn’t exactly how he saw himself spending his Thursday, but his plans had changed. He gave his work boots one last wipe on the mat and made his way to the bathroom. He still had plenty of time to get some stuff finished up before he had to pack.
~~~~
Julie set the blue ribbon for the three-legged race she and Chase had won on her bed, the last of the contents from the box he brought over. She slid her fingers over their fishing trophy, the sparkly blue bracelet she made him to match hers for a long-ago Fourth of July parade, and the various other mementos from their childhood. She picked up the strip of pictures from the photo booth at the fair and turned it over, reading Chase and Jules forever. Swallowing, she closed her eyes, absorbing the quick wash of pain.
“Junk,” she whispered, staring at their grinning faces pressed cheek-to-cheek. Memories of the life they’d shared were trash if she decided to make them so. She glanced toward her window and the plush pillows on her window seat, unable to count the number of times she’d sat right there talking to the man who was trying to push her further out of his life. Why else would he have brought all of these things here?
Sighing, she stood, wearing the jeans and snug sweater she changed into after her shower, and packed everything back up, tucking the box in the corner of her closet. She loved having the pictures she framed for Nana’s sofa table, but not the rest. If all of this was trash, then why didn’t Chase just throw it away with the dozens of other boxes he had hauled off to the dump?
The timer started beeping downstairs, and she hurried to the kitchen, stuffing her hands into her oven mitts to pull out the perfectly baked quiche she made shortly after Chase left. She breathed in spinach, mushrooms, and hints of bacon and cheese, his favorites that she added to eggs and cream, intending to bring him a meal after his invite to check out Nana’s place. But what was the point of going?
She set the dish on the cooling rack, debating if a walk next door was actually worth it. Chase told her to stop by, which was the perfect opportunity for them to finally talk, but maybe it was better to just leave things as they’d been left ten years ago. “No.” She shook her head, wrapping the hot dish in two towels. If she didn’t seize this moment and try to make amends, she would regret it for the rest of her life. Perhaps she didn’t mean anything to Chase anymore, but at one point she had. He would leave soon, and she would never see him again. She owed him explanations for why things ended so badly. She owed herself some peace of mind. Sinking her feet into her boots, she headed for the door. It was time to go and get this over with.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside into the falling snow. The storm was supposed to get worse, but it seemed to be getting better. The mammoth-sized flakes of an hour ago were now more of an average size, and the wind had dissipated. She moved with purpose the closer she came to Nana’s front steps and knocked before she lost her nerve. Pounding and music competed with her gloved fist, so she opened the door. “Chase.”
He didn’t answer.
“Chase.” She stepped in and closed the door behind her, looking around at the house she’d been in hundreds of times, not recognizing anything in it: beige walls, pretty new windows, and a glossy wood floor.
The pounding stopped and seconds later, Chase walked out with a toilet in his bulging arms. “Hey. You came.”
“I did.”
“I need to put this down.”
She moved off the folded-over blanket she was standing on. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear, doing her best to ignore the flutters in her stomach. “I knocked but you didn’t hear me.”
“It’s been a little noisy around here.” He set the toilet down. “I’m getting started in the bathroom.”
“I see that.”
He stood fully upright, showcasing a huge wet spot in the center of his shirt and some other gelatinous debris. She wrinkled her nose, not wanting to imagine what it could be. “Uh, you’re covered in toilet water.”
He looked down. “Shit.”
“Probably that too.”
“That certainly wasn’t part of the plan,” he said as he pulled off his top by the collar and balled it in his hand.
Swallowing, she stared at his broad shoulders, chiseled pecs, and the bumps of his well-defined six-pack. He’d been built years ago, but he never looked like this.
“So, what do you think?”
She tore her gaze away from his exceptional upper body, more than certain he wasn’t looking for an opinion on his biceps. “Uh, it’s different. Really nice and different. I brought you a quiche.” She held up the dish. “Bacon, spinach, and mushroom.”
“Sounds good. We can put it in the kitchen. I finished up in there yesterday.” He gestured with his head, and she took off her boots, following him into the next room.
She walked in and stopped, shocked by the transformation. Newly stained cupboards, pretty gray and white granite countertops, and a high-end stove and refrigerator/freezer combo. The sink was brand new and fancy as well. And the flooring. “Wow.”
He grinned. “You like it?”
She shrugged, setting the dish on the counter.
His smile disappeared. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” she appeased, noting his miffed tone. “It’s beautiful.” She shrugged again. “It’s just really different.” She walked over to the refrigerator, touching the stainless steel handle, flipped on the new sink, then brushed her palm over the gas stove. “It’s so high-end.”
“Exactly. Hopefully I can get out from under this place quickly.”
She turned, looking at him, really studying Chase Rider—not just his excellent looks that had gotten better with a decade, but the whole package: the fancy phone peeking from his dirty designer jeans; his guarded, serious eyes; the sexy beard; the extra bulk on his cut physique and realized there was nothing about the man standing in front of her that she recognized. “The sooner, the better.”
“Absolutely.” He nodded his agreement.
His indifference was as hurtful as it was maddening. “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble washing your hands of Nana’s home of fifty-five years.” She skirted around him, more than finished with the grand tour. She didn’t want to talk to him anymore. She no longer needed to say all of the things she’d always wanted to say. This house right here with its new windows, doors, and fancy appliances was a stark reminder that nothing was the same. She and Chase were different people—strangers after so much time. She didn’t want to know this man. She walked back to her boots. “Thanks for the sneak peek.”
“Jules, wait.”
She stopped. Why did her name always sound so different rolling off his tongue? “What?”
“Why are you mad?”
She turned. “I’m not.”
He tilted his head, raising his eyebrow. “I can read you like a book.”
“You used to read me like a book.”
“I still can.”
“This is nice, Chase.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Different. You’ve managed to erase every trace of Nana. It’s like she never existed, like the life she lived here or your mother’s or yours each and every summer for eighteen years never happened.” She turned.
“Hold on.”
He grabbed her arm.
She tugged away. “I don’t want to. This makes me sad. It would’ve made her sad too to know she left you something you don’t appreciate.” She shoved her feet in her boots and reached for the doorknob.
“Would you hold on?” He pulled her back.
She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms, staring at him.
“This place needed work—lots of it. I can’t keep it, so I have to fix it up to sell it.” He surprised her when he took her hand. “I’m not trying to erase her. Come with me.” He gave her a tug. “Come on, Jules.”
Sighing, she relented and walked with him up the stairs.
“I’m trying to get out from under this property without losing my shirt,” he continued. “Someone should live here. This house is meant to be lived in. Nana would be sad knowing it’s sitting empty.” He brought her into his old room and grabbed a long sleeve top, pulling it on. “I kept stuff of hers.” He gestured to the couple of boxes in the corner. “And I’m keeping a piece of the house too.” He walked over to the tallest cardboard box and held up one of the ugly brown hens from Nana’s kitchen wallpaper, centered in a frame.
Her heart melted. “You’re keeping a hen?”
“I figure I’ll hang the thing in my kitchen.”
She smiled. “You’re going to hang that in your kitchen?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“It’s awful.”
His eyes softened some as he smiled at her, and she saw a glimpse of the boy she remembered. “It’ll be a good conversation piece.” He put it back and slid his hands in his pockets.
“That’s really sweet.” She looked around, turning once as she took in the empty walls. She’d always had access to Nana’s house, but she’d never walked back in this room until now. “There are so many memories here.” Her gaze wandered to the bed he’d slept in as a child, the bed he slept in now—the place where they lost their virginity the night of her senior prom. Their eyes met again, and she knew he remembered as she did.
He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “Uh, since I have you here, I need a bit of a favor.”
“Okay.”
“Nana’s sewing room is a disaster. I don’t know what should go to the senior center and what should be thrown away.”
“I can take a look.” She needed out of this room and away from him. “I’ll go see what’s what.” She turned and left, walking across the hall into the space Nana had turned into her sewing area. She went to the table covered with the sewing machine and fabrics and got to work.
Chase peeked his head in. “I’m going to head back downstairs.”
She nodded, making a “toss” and “keep” pile, losing track of time as her thoughts wandered between past and present. There was so much history here—in this house, her house, in this town. Anywhere she went, she could find a memory with her and Chase in it. They’d been so close—inseparable—and now they could barely be in the same room for more than five minutes. The light flicked on and she blinked, looking up.
“Wow. I guess you made progress.”
She glanced at her two huge piles—the toss pile far bigger than the keep—then at the two plates he was holding with slices of the quiche she made.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
She wasn’t. Her mind was whirling, and her emotions were all over the place, but she stood and took the dish. “Thank you.”
He cut into his piece and took a bite. “God, this is good,” he said over the food in his mouth.
“You know they say real men don’t eat quiche, but that doesn’t appear to be true.”
“Guess not.” He forked up more. “I’ve got milk in the fridge or orange juice.”
“I’ll take some milk.” Surprised that he was offering her food and drink, she followed him downstairs.
“Sorry I don’t have a table and chairs anymore,” he said, walking into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator.
“That’s okay.” She hopped up on the countertop. “This will do.” She took the drink he handed her. “Thanks.”
He leaned against the counter a couple feet to her left. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” She sampled her quiche, finding the eggs to be fluffy and delicious. “So how much longer until you finish up around here?”
He crossed his ankles. “If I can keep my schedule, maybe late next week, early the week following.”
Her heart sank, realizing he would be gone as quickly as he’d blown back into town. “That’s pretty fast.”
“There hasn’t been a whole lot slowing me down; although I spotted a little rot in the bathroom, so that might.” He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
She picked at her eggs. “Hopefully it’s nothing major.”
“Hopefully.”
“So are you going to the Mickle’s Christmas party on Friday?”
“Probably not.” He polished off his piece and set down his plate. “Are you?”
“She’s making her Yule log. I wouldn’t miss it.”
He smiled. “I actually have to fly back to LA tomorrow.”
She paused with the fork at her lips, struggling with a quick wave of panic. “I thought you said you were here for another week or so.”
“It’s just overnight. My boss needs a favor.”
“Oh.” She popped the bite in her mouth, undeniably relieved.
“My flight doesn’t leave Los Angeles until two, so I don’t think I’ll make it in time.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” She shook her head, more disappointed than she wanted to be. She’d attended several Mickle Christmas parties without Chase and had plenty of fun. “I’ll try and save you a piece of her cake, but I can’t make any promises.”
“Because you’ll eat it before I get a chance.”
She grinned as he did. “Because it’s doubtful I’ll make it out of there alive if anyone knows I’m trying to sneak one of the neighborhood’s favorite treats home with me.”
He chuckled. “Your efforts would be appreciated.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She glanced at her watch and winced. They were actually having what passed for an easy conversation, and she had to leave. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to go.”
“Big night on the home front?”
“No. I’m babysitting.”
He looked toward the window. “You’re going out in this?”
“Sure. The weather’s slowing down.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?”
“Definitely. Bryce is picking me up in his monster truck.” She hopped down. “He’s not going to let a little thing like snow and wind get in the way of his date night with Mindy.” She rinsed her plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Well, safe flight tomorrow.”
“Thanks. And thanks again for the help.”
“There’s still more to do. I didn’t get a chance to get to the closet, but you’re off to a good start.”
“I appreciate it.” He flipped on the outside light and opened the door for her. “See ya.”
“Bye.” She walked home in the glow of the lights, shocked that they had actually spent time together. They’d talked about nothing of importance—not the things she wanted or needed to, but their conversation wasn’t strained and horrible, which was a step in the right direction. Maybe they could find their way back to being friends after all.
Chapter Seven
Chase drove down Main Street, crossing the last errand off his mental to-do list. He’d grabbed a small tube of toothpaste after remembering he would need some in LA, picked up the old pictures he’d had reframed for one of his mother’s Christmas gifts, and put air in his front left tire. Not too bad for being up and about for less than half an hour. He still needed to fill up before he headed to the airport but other than that… He tapped his brake, slowing as he passed Marshfield Hardware, spotting the familiar mauve hat moving among the pine trees in the Christmas tree lot adjacent to the store. Debating for seconds, he stopped and revers
ed on the road that was still quiet at seven thirty AM, and pulled into a parking space. It was freezing, the sun was barely up, and the parking lot empty except for his and Bryce’s trucks, and Julie was wandering around the rows of trees by herself. He glanced around at shop windows still dark. No one walked the streets in the sleepy little town, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t putting herself at risk being alone like this. He would check on her, make sure everything was okay, and be on his way. Julie wasn’t exactly his pal, but he didn’t want to see anything happen to her. Getting out of the truck, he started her way, following her voice to the back corner.
“Come on,” she said, struggling to free the tree from the plank it rested against. “I just want to check you out.”
He gave Julie a once over, his gaze traveling up her legs in snug jeans, stopping on her excellent ass as she bent farther forward, continuing her efforts.
“Don’t play hard to get. You know you’re the best one here. You’re coming home with me.”
He struggled with a grin as she continued her conversation with the tree. “Uh, am I interrupting?”
Gasping, she whirled. “Chase.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “You scared me.”
Her cheeks were pink in the chilly air, and her hair loosely braided, hanging just past her scarf tucked into her black pea coat. The early morning light did something to her eyes, making them appear bigger and somehow more exotic. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “I didn’t want to get in the way. It sounded like you were really getting somewhere with all of the smooth talk. My guess is if you keep that up, you’re bound to seal the deal eventually.”
Grinning, she rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand the tree up to get a good look, but I think this is the one.”
He rolled his eyes this time. He’d gone tree shopping with Jules more than a few times. Every tree was the perfect one until she spotted the next perfect one five minutes later. “Right.”
“No, really. This is it.” She stepped back next to him. “I mean look at the shape—the way the branches fan out.” She gestured the tree’s curve with her hands. “I don’t know how this one is still here. Wait.” She frowned, looking at him. “I thought you were going to Los Angeles today.”