Ride

by Harper Dallas

  Underneath my hand the towels are so soft. I try not to spend too long checking Chase’s things. Just like always they’re laid out with an obsessive neatness: his toothbrush. His toothpaste. His cologne. I trace my fingers over them, telling myself it’s embarrassing to stand here gawking like a tourist. And yet it feels so intimate that I have to drag myself away.

  Chase isn’t in the bedroom when I get out. I can hear him moving around outside. He’s put on the sports channel, and over the commentator I can hear the clatter of crockery and the muted click of cupboards being opened and closed.

  Just Chase, going about his day. And I’m a part of it.

  Once I’m back in yesterday’s clothes I go out to him. The dress is rumpled from lying on the floor for the night, but at least it’s appropriate for Miami’s sunshine. Chase is fiddling with something on a side table, his back to me. For a moment I just watch. I still can’t quite believe I get to sleep with someone who looks that good. Muscles that have literally modeled designer underwear slink beneath his skin. Unbelted his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing the band of his boxer shorts and the ridge about his hips that calls out for my fingers to grip.

  “Black, two sugars?” Chase asks without turning around.

  Seriously, how does he do that?

  Chase turns to look at me, waving a hand toward the tray in front of him. “I asked them to bring these up.”

  I pad over to him, pausing before I press cautiously along his side. The sling of his arm about me is smoother than my own hesitation, Chase tucking me under his shoulder with an easy confidence.

  I scan my eyes over the tray. The mugs are tastefully marked with a discreet version of the hotel’s logo. “How did you know how I take it?”

  “Because I’m the one who gives it to you on the regular?” Chase flashes me a wicked grin before he relents with a shrug. “I’ve got a good memory. And you have a sweet tooth.” His smile turns mischievous. “I mean, clearly, since you’ve been chasing a sweetheart like me.”

  I roll my eyes again, but it doesn’t really work with a smile so wide. Playfully I knock his hip with my elbow. “A very neat sweetheart. Did you get sent to military school?”

  At my side Chase’s body tenses. A hardness flickers in his eyes.

  Oh, god. I’ve fucked it up.

  “Not military school.” Chase looks back down at me, his ribs moving as he lets out a breath. His face relaxes again, though the search of his eyes into mine is deliberate. Careful. As if he tries something new. He doesn’t quite succeed in making the disclosure sound casual. “Dad was in the army before he was a cop. Home was his way or the highway. And his way was neat.”

  It’s more than I’ve ever heard about Chase’s life before. We both know it. For a beat we look at each other, this fragile new thing fluttering between us.

  Chase pulls on a grin, giving my breast an idle squeeze as he pulls away. “Enough story time. I’m going to get showered. I thought we could get brunch after.”

  Thank you, I want to say, but my mouth can’t make the words. How could I tell him how much it means to have him trust me with his story? Instead I catch his hand, tugging myself up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

  Chase slides his arms around me, and by the time he pulls away we’re both flushed.

  “Later.” Chase grins, his hand slipping down to cup at my ass. “As much as I could eat you … I want to eat something else first.”

  I’m still standing there smiling like an idiot when he pauses in the doorway.

  “Your phone has been going crazy. Might wanna check it.”

  Shit. Mom and Pop-pop. We’re meant to be going out today. We’re meant to be meeting up … now, the clock on the TV tells me.

  Any other time I’d take the chance to appreciate it: this huge room with its high sweeping ceiling and its panoramic views over the ocean. The luxury furniture. The wet bar. For now I just grab my cell and the coffee, going to curl up on the huge sofa.

  I open Pop-pop’s messages first.

  I imagine your head isn’t doing too hot. I’m taking your mom sightseeing. Let’s meet in the afternoon.

  We are so proud of you.

  Something inside of me relaxes. I would have felt so terrible if they had been waiting for me. Alex has been in touch too, and I tap back a quick reply to all of her thousands of exclamation marks and hearts.

  It’s great. I think we’re A Thing (!?!?)

  Meet afternoon with M+P?

  Love you

  Her reply comes back almost instantaneously:

  no rush, i had too many bubbles!

  enjoy your hot date

  ps

  did you just take off the emotional kevlar????

  i <3 you too

  The last message is an email from Catherine. I’d totally forgotten we were going to talk.

  The job with Wild.

  I’ve got it.

  33

  Some days everything is perfect.

  I stand out in the sun as Chase speaks to the doorman, the warmth kissing my skin and seeping down into my bones. The smile that I haven’t been able to lose keeps tugging at the edges of my mouth.

  He looks so good. I’ve always noticed that, from when he was a poster on my wall to the first time I saw him in Laax airport. Back in his jeans and T-shirt, a pair of aviators tucked up over his hair, Chase is the sort of man that turns heads—even if most of the girls on the street can’t know that he’s a world-class athlete earning several million dollars a year. I can’t stop staring at every inch of him—his perfect ass. The thick strength of his forearms, one blackened by his tattoo sleeve. The flop of his hair, always calling for my fingers.

  And it’s me that he wants. In all the world, it’s me.

  I love you. I can still hear how it sounded last night, out in the dark, when Chase was crazy with the thought of losing me. When desperation made him shake as if he might fall apart.

  It’s hard to believe that he said it. In the bright morning sun it feels almost like a dream, precious and fragile. What if he got carried away? What if he doesn’t really mean it? What if, what if …

  I catch the thought and push it down, instead letting the sun warm my shoulders and happiness spread my smile. This moment here, now, is perfect. I’m not going to ruin it by worrying. I’ve done that too much already.

  Last night I was distracted, but this time I’m still giggling when Chase slips into the driver’s seat after tipping the valet. He looks over to me with a question creased over his forehead.

  “What?”

  “This car.” I mime the action of the scissor doors, raising my forearm on the pivot of my elbow. “I can’t believe you actually rented the Batmobile.”

  Chase stares at me a second before he chuckles, reaching over to slip the car into gear. “You don’t know what I drive back home,” he teases lightly. “Maybe you just insulted my baby.”

  I grin, settling back into my chair and getting comfy as he pulls out onto the main street. “It’s the heli all over again. Is your whole life going to be about persuading me not to take the bus?”

  Chase’s smile spreads slow. “I guess it’s looking like that.” His eyes remain fixed to the road, but his fingers still deftly find the hem of my dress for a tweak. “Is this about persuading me not to take the bus?”

  I’m blushing, but in this moment I don’t turn my face away. Happiness warms me like sunshine, and I don’t hide. Instead I tease: “I do like to have the very best.” I can’t do a very good impression of Chase’s voice in the elevator last night. It doesn’t matter. “But I did hope you’d enjoy it.”

  There’s nothing like making Chase laugh. The sound is bold and happy, his amusement tapped out with his palms over the wheel. “You’re good, Larson. You spend all morning coming up with that?”

  My heart flutters in my chest. I try to play it cool, reaching forward to fiddle with the air conditioning. “Actually, I got a job offer.”

  Chase slants a glance toward me. “Rea
lly? Where at?”

  “Wild. You know, the magazine.”

  Chase’s nod is half-absent. “Oh. Yeah.”

  For some reason his reaction crumples the edges of something in my chest. I don’t know why I’m disappointed. What did I expect? A celebration? Wild was never going to be a big deal to a man with Olympic medals.

  Just because it was my dream doesn’t mean that it matters to him.

  Chase waits to speak again until we’re at the next intersection. His hand skims absently over my thigh, his eyes fixed upward to the lights. “What kind of job? Staff?”

  “Staff photographer.” I nod, letting my gaze skim out of the window. A couple in skinny hipster jeans and matching hipster haircuts are walking their Boston terrier. A woman pushes a baby in a stroller. “They’d send me out on assignments. Boarding, or climbing, or … Whatever they need done, I guess. It’s a steady paycheck.”

  Why did I make the last bit sound so defensive? I have nothing to be ashamed of. I try to make a joke of it, turning a carefully constructed grin back to Chase. “Unfortunately we can’t all get multi-million-dollar sponsorship contracts.”

  A flicker of tension bulges at Chase’s jaw. “You shouldn’t—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head, his hand returning to the gearstick to shift up for the light change. “It’s none of my business.”

  I shimmy around in my seat to face him better, a flicker of hurt pride rising in my throat. “I shouldn’t what?”

  Chase’s eyes skip toward me, and I’m surprised to see concern on his face. He slips his hand to my lap for a moment, reaching for my fingers. “Brooke. Whatever you think I meant, I didn’t.” In response to my raised eyebrows he adds, “I can see that look on your face.”

  I hope my expression doesn’t look as guilty as I feel. “Then what did you mean?”

  Chase works out his jaw for a moment, shifting it to one side and then another as he thinks.

  “Staff photographer is a good job,” he says finally. “It’s stable. It’s safe. I guess it looks good on your résumé.” He says the word as if the whole concept is alien to him. “And obviously they’re drooling over you now. But they turned you down before.”

  I’m shocked that he remembers. The only time Wild was mentioned in front of him was by Alex, just once, at the Faceplant in Laax. That was over a season ago.

  Chase must catch a glimpse of my surprise. His smile is wry. “What, you think I wasn’t filing all that information away? You were already the most interesting woman I’d ever met.” His grin spreads as he looks the other way for a turn. “And the most frustrating.”

  All the tension has unbanded from my chest. I reach out a hand to playfully slap at his shoulder. “Okay. So they turned me down. But they had a budgeting issue. And now—”

  “Now you’re too good for them.”

  I can’t find any words to say.

  Chase shrugs, his eyes fixed forward again. “I mean, you were always too good for them. But now they know it. You’re an Illuminations winner, Brooke. You don’t need to be on anyone’s staff, going off to photograph whatever they tell you to. You can make your own decisions. You can shoot what you want. Whatever pictures you take will have buyers. Wild included.”

  I’d never really thought of it. I’ve wanted the Wild staff job for so long that I didn’t really look past it. Maybe my dreams were so ambitious that it seemed too much to imagine even more. I wanted Illuminations more than anything, and I’ve got it. But it seems … too big to think of more than that. Too much to hope, that I could freelance and make a decent living.

  It’s as if Chase hears my thoughts. “You are so talented.” He says it simply, as if it’s an evident truth.

  My heart might explode inside of my chest.

  “Not that you should listen to me,” Chase says when I don’t reply. “Who the fuck am I, anyway.”

  “You,” I say, my own evident truth. You. The one who believes in me. The one who fought for me to go to Bella Coola, once he got his head out of his ass.

  “I mean, yeah,” Chase acknowledges as we pull up to a stop. “But who am I to—”

  This time I say it with a kiss, and this time Chase understands.

  As we pull into the parking lot I send Catherine a quick email telling her that I need some time to think.

  “This is on me.”

  I look up from my menu and its extremely expensive typos. There’s no way a burger actually costs that much. “I just won all that prize money. I can pay for brunch.”

  Chase shrugs, studiously dropping his eyes back to his menu. “You could … but you won’t. I think you should get a glass of champagne.”

  Around us the bright Florida sun beats down over the deck. A soft breeze whispers in the palm trees above our heads, the sound mixing with the soft shushing of the waves. The exclusive waterfront restaurant is so perfect I could so easily get swept away with it all. I can’t believe this is my life: sitting in one of the city’s most prestigious restaurants, the world’s best extreme athlete insisting on paying my tab.

  But.

  “Chase, it’s midday.”

  Chase’s eyes tick up to mine, peering over his aviators. “Yeah. And you just won a category in the world’s biggest extreme sport photography competition. So …” He shrugs, dropping his menu down on the table before he tilts his jaw toward the waiter to let him know that we’re ready. “Anyway, it’s a date.”

  A date.

  I know we said all those things last night. I know we meant them. But still there was some part of me this morning that just wanted to enjoy what I had. To not ask questions. Because it seemed too good to be true, and I’m used to things not working out. There are so many reasons we can’t do this. I’ve hardly had great luck with men. Chase has never done anything apart from a lot of casual sex. And he travels. He travels a lot. And I will, too.

  The waiter is coming, but Chase doesn’t look at him. Instead he reaches for his water, letting it rest in his mouth before he swallows. An edge of coolness stills the side of his smile. “Or is this not a date.”

  He’s worried. Fearless, cocky Chase is worried. Just like I’ve been worried, too, thinking that last night was so good it must have been a dream.

  It would be so easy to pull away. I’ve trained myself for so long to keep my heart safe. To stay away from things that might be great because they might hurt, too. But I think of what Pop-pop said about what hearts are for. Maybe I don’t want my emotional Kevlar. Maybe I don’t need it anymore.

  “It’s a date,” I agree, letting a smile spread over my face.

  And it’s wonderful.

  We get far too much food, and in the end Chase coaxes me into not one but two mimosas. After a while I relax into spending his money and just enjoy it—that he can afford to do this, and that he takes pleasure in treating me. We talk about the places we both want to board. Chase tells me about how it was growing up in Breckenridge, and what JJ was like as a kid.

  JJ. It’s the only note of discord in the whole thing. But Chase reaches his hand across the table, squeezing at my fingers, and when his eyes find mine they’re steady. “He’s going to be okay, Brooke.”

  Relief spreads over me like cool water. I always knew that Chase would make me believe it. I always knew he was the only one who could.

  “And Raquel’s back looking after him,” Chase adds, saying the words delicately. As if they don’t mean anything at all. “Which … I dunno.” His shrug isn’t convincingly casual. “Maybe we get second chances, after all. Even if we fuck up.”

  We look at each other, and Chase doesn’t need to explain what he means. Not when we’re sitting here in our own second chance.

  I don’t really want to get on to the future. All those worries are still there. I mean, this is a date, yeah. And this morning he said he wasn’t going anywhere. But does that mean …? And what does Chase want, if we are together? How will we handle the shoots in Japan and New Zealand, the events in Austria and Whistler? He does
n’t even live in Mammoth. I won’t even live in Mammoth, not all the time.

  I don’t want to bring it up. Not when we laugh together over tipsy bubbles and under the table Chase’s leg presses to mine, the top of his foot slowly tracing the back of my ankle.

  But then Chase gives me the opener.

  He’s finished the last of his after-brunch espresso, and signaled to our waiter for the check. His arm is winged out over the back of his chair, the sea breezes toying with his hair. Behind his shaded Ray-Bans I can’t see a thing.

  “What are we doing next?”

  It freezes me. I can’t help but fidget, my hands fretting over the tablecloth where it hovers above my lap. “Now?”

  Chase’s jaw tightens for a moment, but he doesn’t pull away. A slow breath rolls his chest before he speaks, his eyebrows rising over a question. “Now. Later.”

  Now is easier than later. I lean back, smiling at the waiter as he takes Chase’s signature, fretting for a moment over whether I should be counting out bills, like Chase does—but Chase ends that thought with a look and a fractional shake of his head. I can’t help but notice that he leaves a very generous tip.

  “My family are here,” I manage finally. “I said I’d meet them in the afternoon.” At least it’s honest and simple. Even if behind it are less simple things, like but more than anything I want to stay with you, in bed, all day. “My mom. My granddad.”

  Not Trent. I can see Chase think it. But he doesn’t comment, and I’m so glad that it flushes warmth through my chest.

  I quickly realize though that Chase isn’t at ease. Beneath the table he reshuffles his legs, though still they find mine afterward. He raises one hand to rasp over his stubble, his face turning away for a hang-breath moment.