Chasing McCree

by J. C. Isabella

  Chase met my eyes in the mirror and grinned, dimples gracing his cheeks. “You know, I never would have guessed you looked so normal under all that crap.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  He shrugged and tossed the dirty washcloths into the shower. “You find something appealing, lookin’ like a hooker?”

  “I am not…”

  His hand settled over my mouth, and I wondered if I should really trust him. I didn’t know anything about him. He was a stranger to me. “Now, my mom’s downstairs. I’d like to keep you a secret. She won’t take kindly to me having a girl in my room this time of night.”

  I nodded and he took his hand away. “Sorry.”

  “As am I.” He smiled ruefully. “I just think you’re prettier without a face full of makeup.”

  “Everyone else wears just as much, sometimes more.” I countered, feeling childish. He paid me a compliment. I could have at least acted grateful, after what he did for me tonight.

  “If everyone else decides to jump off a bridge, will you?” He helped me down from the counter, raising his thick brown eyebrows.

  “You sound like my grandmother.” I turned to look in the mirror and took my hair down, letting the strands free. It reached the middle of my back when it was straight. But the corkscrews fell just past my shoulders. “And no, I won’t.”

  Chase pulled a rogue clip out and tossed it on the counter. “See, that’s the thing about old people, they’ve got all the good advice.”

  “How would you know?”

  Sadness swept across his features, fleeting and disconcerting. “I was raised by my Grandparents.”

  “Why?” I followed him out into the bedroom, still sore, but more flexible now that my knees weren’t crusted over with blood.

  “That’s a story I’m not in the mood to tell.” He sat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, crossing his legs at the ankles. It was then I noticed his cowboy boots. They were the real deal, reddish-brown leather worn to perfection. “But I’d like to know your story. Then, maybe I’ll share.”

  I eyed him for a minute, decided he was genuinely curious, and threw my arms up in surrender, plopping down beside him. “What the hell, you’ve got questions, ask away.”

  “First, it’s nearing the end of May. Why the cheerleading uniform?”

  “Practice for a school rally coming up. Kind of like an end of the year celebration, and to start recruiting for next year.”

  “Why did Alex get you drunk?”

  “He had sex with my best friend, Rachel. Getting me drunk was to loosen me up so I wouldn’t overreact when he confessed.” I said. “But it made me bold enough to dump salsa, chips, and beer all over him.”

  “Why would you go out with someone like that?”

  “It seemed like a good idea…and I’d never had a real boyfriend before.” We’d been dating for one month solid. Before that he winked and over complimented me, but it didn’t get serious until Miranda Carlson, one of the most popular girls on the cheer squad, had to move away because of her dad’s job transfer six months ago.

  Rachel needed me to take Miranda’s place as her best friend. My social status rose. And Alex got interested.

  I was excited to have my first boyfriend. A guy who took me out on dates, drove, paid, and could be a good kisser. I didn’t think that he was with me because of our social positions. I thought he genuinely liked me. It was simply a coincidence that he’d been dating Miranda.

  I’m so naïve, it’s not even funny.

  Alex had been sweet and everyone at school said I was the luckiest girl. He made me feel special in the beginning, so I didn’t bother looking deeper. I thought it was going to be sunny days and chirping birds, like the fairytales.

  Of course my eyes were truly opened when I realized my boyfriend spent his spare time breaking his personal record for most drinks consumed in one sitting.

  And it wasn’t just beer anymore. He moved onto the hard stuff—vodka, whiskey, bourbon, rum—his parents kept a well-stocked house. They didn’t seem to care either, since they drank just as much.

  I’d been trying to figure out the best way to break up with him. His habits were unhealthy. I don’t like to drink, not that much. A sip of champagne at a wedding, or a nip of a margarita that Grandma has at her poker parties is as much as I like.

  I’d never been drunk, never been buzzed.

  So this wonky reality was really unsettling. I didn’t like the fact that I wasn’t in complete control.

  “All my friends said I should. That I was crazy if I didn’t.” I trusted their opinions on everything, from straightening my hair, to the clothes I bought at the mall. We didn’t do anything without running our ideas or decisions by each other. Rachel, Hadley, Emma, and Beth were all inseparable. They did everything together, and even though I wasn’t as far in with them, I was far enough to ask them what they thought before buying a dress.

  I looked down at my uniform, stomach sinking.

  Was I a cheerleader because I liked it, or because all my friends did? Rachel went out for the squad freshman year, so I did too. Then she met the fab three, Hadley, Emma, and Beth. They became the fab four. If I kept hanging out with them, we’d be the fab five. The most popular group of girls in school.

  Was I that much of a sheep?

  “Are you okay? You look green.” Chase glanced at the bathroom, probably wondering if he’d get me to the toilet in time.

  “Uh, I’m just reevaluating every major choice I’ve made. I’m thinking I’ve based every one on what other people think I should do.”

  “Sounds intensely life changing.” He chuckled, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

  I nodded, smiling. “Probably.”

  “So, you’re okay?”

  “I think so.” Hell. No.

  “No more crying, hysterical laughter?”

  My face flushed. “I promise. I’m good. And I want to thank you for everything, bringing me home with you, helping me clean up.”

  “You’re welcome,”

  I stifled a yawn, “I should go.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  It occurred to me, that I’d have to sneak in to my house, disable the alarm, and reset it so my father didn’t notice. After that I’d have to find a way to my room in the dark…still off balance and slightly drunk.

  Thank God I didn’t have four feet anymore.

  “You’ve got that green look again, Briar.”

  “I was just wishing I was sober.” If Rachel hadn’t turned out to be such a bitch, I’d have gone to her house. If it were earlier I’d go to Grandma’s. “Did I have a purse with me?”

  “No, why?”

  “My house key is in it.” I thought back and realized I’d left it in the girl’s locker room.

  Chase chuckled, leaning forward and pulling off his boots. He tossed them to the floor and snagged my left ankle.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to wriggle away. But I didn’t have a chance. He was stronger and sober.

  “Making you more comfortable.” My cheer sneakers and socks joined his boots.

  “Why?”

  “So you can sleep.” He got up and locked his door.

  I blanched, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I think I should at least try to sneak in…sometimes my mom forgets to lock the door on the porch.”

  “How are you going to do that if you can’t walk straight?” Instead of coming back to the bed he opened his closet and pulled out a sleeping bag. He unrolled it on the floor and grabbed a pillow, hunkering down for the night.

  “I don’t know.” I groaned.

  “I’d stick you in the guestroom, but I can’t guarantee my mother won’t go in there in the morning. It doubles as her office.” He reached up and turned off the light on the beside table, plunging the room into darkness.

  I sank down into the pillows, my eyes straining in the dark. I could feel him watching me. “How did you get me up here?”

>   “I carried you. I beat my mother to the house by ten minutes.” He sounded relieved. “In the morning we’ll sneak out the backdoor. She’ll never know.”

  I nodded, and then verbally agreed when I realized he couldn’t see me. “Right.”

  “Relax and go to sleep.”

  I lay there for a few seconds, thinking about sneaking out once he was asleep. I’d write him a note, thank him for his help and be on my merry way.

  Of course, I had to be awake to sneak out.

  And wouldn’t you know it, I passed out again.

  Chapter 3

  “Chase?”

  I groaned, pulling the covers over my head. It was way too early.

  “Chase, are you up yet?”

  My eyes flew open and I stared at the bedroom door.

  Chase didn’t answer. I glanced at the floor to see his sleeping bag was gone. But I could hear the shower running in the bathroom.

  Slowly I scooted back and slipped off the bed, hoping the woman didn’t hear me. I knocked softly on the bathroom door. No sudden movements. “Chase?”

  Nothing.

  “Chase, have you seen my phone charger…never mind, your sister took it.” She was still chattering away, even though no one was answering her. When the door handle jiggled I gulped, squeezed my eyes shut, and barged into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  “Whoa! Briar?” Chase’s startled voice cracked. “What are you doing?”

  I put my hands over my face, forcing my eyes to stay closed. “I think your mom was trying to get into your bedroom.”

  “Oh, well she can’t. I locked the door.”

  Right, “Whoops, sorry.”

  “You can open your eyes, Briar.”

  I cracked one eye open to see he was wearing a pair of grey cargo shorts, no shirt. His chest glimmered with water droplets and his hair was wet.

  I opened my other eye and bit my lip. “Boy, I feel like an idiot.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to see what my mom wants. You can shower, whatever you need. There’s a drawer under the sink with towels and stuff. Help yourself. If I’m not back in ten minutes, it’s okay to come down.”

  “Thanks.” I shut the bathroom door and pressed my forehead against it. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

  I washed my face, checked out my scabby knees, and decided I’d be wearing jeans for a while. In the drawer I found a new toothbrush, still in a nice unopened package. Honestly, it was the little things in life that made me happy.

  My hair was wild and curly. I managed to get it up into a ponytail and fastened it with clips that had been in my hair from the night before.

  I looked…well, to be honest, I looked normal. It worked. I might have to sport the no makeup, curly haired look more often. It was so different from my usual style. When I wasn’t in my cheerleading uniform, I sported a preppy, just came from the country club, look with enough makeup to hide my real identity.

  Feeling like I’d discovered a whole new me, I went in search of Chase.

  I found him downstairs looking out the living room window. He was wearing a red t-shirt. I wouldn’t have minded if he stayed shirtless. He had the kind of body that I’m sure would make every guy at school jealous.

  Before making my presence known, I studied the living room. It was so cozy and homey. The curtains were blue cotton, the couches cream and worn from use. The wood floors had faded spots and scuffmarks. But it wasn’t shabby. It was lived in and loved like a house should be. I could imagine a bunch of kids piled on the couches after school, or a family gathered around the coffee table playing a game.

  I never wanted Chase to see where I lived. It would be embarrassing. Compared to his home my house was cold and uninviting. A rambling museum of marble and glass. He would look out of place amongst the priceless antiques my parents prided themselves on colleting. I’m pretty sure I didn’t look out of place, but on the inside it all felt wrong. I was just another one of the pieces my parents collected over the years. Afraid to sit on my mothers prized French couches, track dirt on the marble floors. Worried I’d break or dent something. Mostly I stayed in my room.

  “I’m ready,” I announced my presence, holding onto the banister at the bottom stair as if it was my lifeline.

  “Good. We’ve got a limited amount of time.” He said, letting the curtain drop back into place. “My mom and her husband left for their morning run, and if I get you out of here now, they’ll never know. We’ll take my truck. No horse this time.”

  He went silent when he turned around. I swear time froze. We stared at each other for a while. Not moving. Our gazes locked. I wanted to say something, blink. But I couldn’t. I was sober, with a little bit of queasiness and a headache, except seeing him now was like seeing him for the first time. And he was amazing. Depthless chocolate eyes, tan skin, real muscles from real work, and dimples. I gulped, not knowing what to do. How was I supposed to react to this kind of…attraction? I’d never experienced it before.

  “We should, uh, get going.” I whispered, afraid to speak too loud.

  He nodded. Rubbing his jaw, voice rough. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  In the front yard an old blue pickup sat under an oak tree. It wasn’t anything fancy, nothing like the cars I’d been driven around in my whole life. I was used to leather, chrome and European engineering. My mother loved her cars. She didn’t settle for anything less than the best. If she knew I was riding around in an old truck, probably without airbags and antilock brakes, she’d blow an ovary.

  I reached for the passenger door and clutched the handle. It didn’t budge. So I grasped it with both hands and gave everything I had. Nothing.

  “Over here, Briar.” Chase led me around the other side of the truck, opening the driver’s door. “The other door doesn’t work well.”

  I nodded, climbing up into the cab and sliding across the wide bench seat. “Okay.”

  “Where to?”

  I glanced around. “Uh, first, do you have seatbelts?”

  “It’s an old truck.” He laughed, reaching across me to pull a lap belt from between the seat and the door.

  I fastened the seatbelt and tightened it. “Does it run?”

  “Like a dream.” He started the engine. I clutched the seat. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Literally rumbling and roaring to life. Shaking like an angry animal. Every car I’d ever been in was smooth and quiet. Sure, I’d seen other cars that were loud and rough, but never experienced it first hand. It rumbled down the drive, not at all smoothly. I felt every bump, bounced in the seat like I was on a ride at a theme park.

  “You okay?”

  I grinned, “I’m having so much fun.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” The truck shuddered and jerked, sending me sideways into Chase when we went over a speed bump. “I’ve never been in a truck before.”

  “I’m sorry, did you just say you’ve never been in a truck?” he choked on disbelief, or something close to it. How was that so hard to comprehend?

  “It’s not like I never wanted to. I haven’t been presented with the opportunity.” I leaned back in the seat, liking the squeaky sound as I moved. “This is nice.”

  “It smells like burnt rubber and gym socks…but yeah, it is.”

  “So,” I said, “I bet I could prop my feet up on the dash, and you wouldn’t get mad.”

  “You bet right.”

  I did. With my shoes on. And it was liberating. “I’ve never done that before either.”

  “What else haven’t you done?”

  I thought for a minute, “I’ve never ridden on a bus.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Well, I take that back. I have been on a school bus. I’ve never ridden on the public bus.”

  “You’re not missing anything, trust me.”

  “It might be nice to try some day.” And I decided that I would ride the bus, just so I could say I’ve done it.

  “Don’t go alone, okay?”
/>   “Why?”

  “Public transit attracts more colorful people than you’re probably used to.”

  “How would you know?”

  He took his eyes off the road to send me a knowing smile. “You’ve got sheltered written all over you.”

  I glared. “Okay, you’ve found me out. Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Afraid I’ll ruin your street cred?”

  “My what?”

  “Forget I asked.” He patted my hand where it rested on the seat. “Now, directions, please.”

  I took him down Druid Road South, past the Biltmore, and right on to Magnolia Drive. My grandmother lived in a Spanish style two-story with a terracotta roof. It was still fancy and in a rich part of town, but much more approachable than my house.

  “You live here?” Chase idled at the front gate. I gave him the pass code to let us in.

  “No, this is Grandma’s house, and she loves company.” She was an old New Yorker and a tad…quirky. “So if you’d rather drop me here, I’ll understand.”

  He smirked, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

  “Great,” I was hoping he’d say that. I was also hoping my grandmother didn’t scare him away.

  Once we’d pulled up to the front of the house I led Chase up the dramatically sweeping front steps and rang the bell. A few seconds later the door flew inward. A little white haired woman beamed out from under a bright red ball cap. “Briar baby, gimmie some sugar!”

  I gave her a hug and a kiss. “Hi, Grandma. How are you?”

  “Oh, just swell.” She gave a little hop. “And who is this strapping young lad?”

  “This is Chase McCree. He’s a friend.”

  She cackled with laughter. “Just keep telling yourself that honey.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Chase shook her hand, or he tried to. But Grandma threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

  “Call me, Grandma.” She winked. “You are a cutie. Briar, he’s a keeper. I like me a Scotsman.”

  I groaned, and Chase went pink as we followed her into the house.

  “So,” Grandma picked up her pink skirt and hobbled down the hallway. She was wearing her Christmas socks with the bells on them. “Who wants a margarita?”