Come back? Her heart wouldn’t survive Travis’s careless handling, his constant deceit. She recalled the final months of their relationship. The lies murmured in her ear had dripped one by one into her soul, flooding, until all she’d thought of life was a falsehood. No. She didn’t need him to be happy. And adventure wasn’t pretending in front of a camera but living under God’s divine smile. She faced Travis, a thousand retorts stampeding her lips, but Chase beat her to it.
“I believe you heard her answer.” He took a bold step between them, his chest broad, his glower intimidating.
“Who are you again?” Travis snapped. “So what if you had a few dates with her. I know Devyn better than anyone.”
Ha! He’d never taken the time to know her, just the Devyn he’d created.
“She’s capable of making her own decisions.” Chase ignored his snide comment. “And she made it clear they don’t involve you.”
Travis tensed, his golden complexion flushing red. “You have no idea who you’re—”
“Enough.” Her voice rose above his, silencing him. “Goodbye, Travis. There’s nothing more to discuss.”
With a downward slash of his hand, Travis strode toward the door. His long strides came to a stop, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Think about it, Dev.” His gaze trained on her and softened, his tone strengthening with hope. “We were good together.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Leave your key.”
Chapter 20
Devyn fanned her fingers on her collarbone, her pulse thudding at the hollow dip in her throat. “What. Just. Happened?”
“Your ex tried to win you back.” Chase nodded toward the door Travis had retreated through only a moment ago. “In more ways than one.”
“What person breaks into his ex’s apartment?” At least he’d returned the key. She eyed it with suspicion. Would he have made a duplicate? “I’m going to write a memo to change the alarm code and staple it to my forehead.” She regarded Chase with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about all this.”
“Nothing to forgive. Glad I could be here for you.” Sincerity laced his voice.
Chase’s protective demeanor had earned him a forever spot on her alltime admiration list, ranking slightly below her brother and just above the person who’d invented microwave popcorn. “I’m glad you were here too.” She kicked off her shoes, her toes flexing in response to their freedom.
Now that Travis was gone, Chase seemed to take his time glancing about her place. “This is really nice.”
Devyn plopped her purse on the coffee table. “Thanks. Hopefully a potential buyer would feel the same.”
Chase’s brows lifted. “Looking to sell?”
“I never asked for this. I’m grateful for a roof over my head, but it doesn’t have to be such a swanky one.” Her gaze floated from the sleek flooring to the vaulted ceiling to the posh furniture in between.
There was a bemused twist to his lips. “Most women would love a place like this.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just my style is much less extravagant.” Devyn’s taste was rustic and down-to-earth. One day she’d like to design her own living space, minus the luxurious details. “This space is too Travis-y. He furnished it without my input. He’s all about control. That’s how he operates. Like tonight. He arranged for the press to be here. I’m sure of it.”
“Why would he do that?”
“So they would report that he’d gone to my place. So it would appear to the Space Station fan base that he’s trying to get me back.” A heavy sigh lowered her shoulders. “Just another way to pacify them. He’s freaky weird about pleasing the public.” She motioned for him to follow her through the living room to the kitchen. “You being with me wasn’t something he factored in. You know, I had the crazy thought to kiss you in front of all those reporters.”
“Why didn’t you?” He stood opposite her, the kitchen island between them. Good thing, because his husky tone was borderline dangerous to her self-control. “It would’ve disproved any rumor of you two getting back together.”
She opened a drawer beneath the counter, grabbed a bag of M&Ms, and tore it open. “This is called eating my feelings.”
He gave a compassionate smile.
She offered him some candy, but he declined with a shake of the head. Tonight called for at least two palmfuls of chocolate remedy. “As for the not kissing you part, I didn’t because that would be using you.”
She poured a generous amount into her hand and tossed all of it into her mouth.
He palmed the quartz countertop and leaned forward, his muscles taut, his tattoo on full display. “I would’ve whole-heartedly complied.”
She almost choked before swallowing the mouthful.“Nope. I wouldn’t waste our first kiss like that.”
“Ah.” His slow smile built. “So we’re planning on having a first kiss, huh?”
“Um…well. I don’t know. But if we do, I’m not having the world watch. Oh man. My emotions are all over the place right now.” She stuffed more candy into her mouth, her palm growing sticky and multi-colored.
“Understandable.” He rounded the counter, moving closer. “Are you okay?”
“I am, actually.” The first few weeks after the breakup, Devyn had imagined scenarios of how’d she feel running into Travis. Never had she thought of him being in her apartment.
“Was this the first time you’ve seen him since…”
“He ditched me? Yes.” She crumpled the bag and tossed it in the trash. “This was the first.”
He gave her elbow a friendly nudge. “You handled yourself like a champ.”
“Well, one doesn’t prepare for situations like this.” She turned for the sink and rinsed the candy residue from her hands, wishing she could wash away her memories of her time with Travis just as easily.
“What’s the deal with the maxipad?”
She cringed. “About that… Travis and I went to the same high school. Though he was a few grades ahead of me. He came from a wealthy family but was kinda nerdy. His face was covered in acne. He was thin as a toothpick. A terrible dresser. The guy was a bully target.” She flipped off the faucet and grabbed a hand towel. “Some football players stuck a pad to his back. He had no clue. Everyone was pointing and laughing as he walked down the hall. When I saw, I pulled him into a vacant classroom and yanked it off.” She tossed the towel onto the counter and faced Chase in time to see the flash of his dimples.
“Of course you would. You’re bighearted like that.”
With an answering smile, she opened the fridge and retrieved two Dasanis. “Want a water? Or I could make you a coffee? Espresso?”
“Water’s perfect.”
She handed him the bottle.
“Thanks.” He twisted off the top and took a swig.
“After that, Travis and I became friends. Occasionally hung out. Then he graduated, and I didn’t see him until my sophomore year at U of L. I hardly recognized him. He’d filled out, lost the acne, and gained a whole bunch of charm. I found out we were both majoring in computer programming.” She took a drink, the crisp water slaking her thirst. “It made sense to pick up where we left off in high school. We started as friends then things went further. Then of course we launched Space Station together.”
“Which was a success.” Chase downed the rest of his water and crumpled the bottle.
“Was it though?” She relieved him of the trash and tossed it in the recycling bin. “Space Station changed him. It’s like all the attention and popularity he never had but wanted hit him at once. We didn’t take an income the first year. The money from advertisers we poured back into the site, but once it took off—like really took off—I totally lost the man I fell in love with. He became obsessed with work, with public opinion. I faded into the background.”
His soft steel eyes locked hers. “Which makes Travis the biggest loser.”
“The site is now worth a fortune.” She set her bottle on the island. “
And from what he has lined up, he’ll be back on top again. Especially if he can nab Slate. I mean, everyone’s been after this guy for years. Prime time TV, late night shows, magazines.”
“What if he doesn’t want to reveal his identity?”
Chase had asked a similar question about Hattie earlier on the Belle. “This is way different than our research on your picture. Hattie may have had strong reasons for keeping secrets, but Slate? He’s all about money. Have you seen him releasing any new books lately? Yeah, the first was a hit, but where is he now?” She leaned against the counter. “The mystery behind his identity might be the only thing he’s got going for him. All the more for him to cash in now, right?” It only made sense. “Ten bucks says he’ll do it. The guy sounds like a total sellout. He’s another walking publicity stunt, just like Travis.”
Chase stuffed his hands into his pockets. “How can he be a publicity stunt when he’s choosing to remain anonymous?”
“I think it’s all strategic. You know, build up the intrigue regarding his identity. He’s a total show stealer. Kentucky Local all over again.”
“Huh?”
“Oh that’s my second offense against the famed poet. The Belle was supposed to be featured in Kentucky Local magazine. But when Slate’s book sold two million copies, they gave the spot to him. If that’s not enough, the interviewer asked him about the Space Station mogul using his poem to break up with his fiancée. Do you know what Slate said?”
His brows pinched.
“He told the interviewer, ‘Well the guy must not have loved her if all it took was one of my poems.’”
Chase winced.
“My thoughts exactly. So I bet ten bucks he’ll sell out.” She stuck out her hand.
Chase straightened and shook it. “Deal.” He held on to her fingers, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “And I make a counteroffer that we stop talking about ex-fiancés and mystery poets.”
“Deal.” She squeezed his hand and released it. “And you’re right. It’s unfair to you for us to be talking only about me. Tell me something about you. Anything.”
“Sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his discomfort evident in his detached gaze. “What would you like to know?”
Oh. Wrong move on her part. Last thing she wanted was to make the man uncomfortable, especially since he’d been so sweet to her tonight. With exaggerated taps to her chin, she purposed to correct her error, to keep the conversation light. “Tell me about…” She eased closer and folded up the hem of his sleeve, revealing his tattoo, ignoring the surge of pleasure at his nearness. “This ink on your arm.”
On closer inspection, she discovered she was mistaken. His tattoo wasn’t entirely a compass, only the left side of it. The other half was the face of a pocket watch. With her fingertip, she traced a slow outline of the inky sphere, enamored by the intricate details—the jagged index lines of the compass, the roman numerals ranging from one to six. Her finger stilled on the orienting arrow pointing North. “May our sights always be aimed toward heaven,” she murmured.
Chase swallowed. Hard. Did her touch affect him? Or her words?
She pulled her hand away. “Why’d you pick this design?”
“Because it looked cool in the parlor catalog.” The corner of his mouth hitched. He was teasing her, returning the moment to its familiar playful state.
She tilted her head in a mock challenge. “I’m two seconds from pinching you again. My mom’s not here to protect you this time.”
He chuckled and raised his palms in surrender. “Okay, you win.” Then his grin dwindled, and a seriousness overtook him. “I got it as a reminder.”
“Of what?”
He regarded his tattoo, his mouth flattened to a curious line.“That time is valuable.‘Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.’”
Her tiny gasp made his eyes light with amusement. He’d recited a verse from the book of Psalms. “You’re a Christian.” Her tone came out accusing—not her intention, but—“You told me you weren’t a believer.”
His light laughter was addicting. “No, I didn’t.”
She gave him an easy shove. “Yes, you did. I remember it clearly. It was during our road trip when I was talking about my dream.”
His grin was all-out mischief. “No, you asked if I was ever divinely led. And I was honest. I’ve never had a dream like you that led me to God. It was all my failings that brought me to that place.”
Her chest lightened. Chase was a believer. What had been a source of strife between her and Travis was something she shared with this man before her.
“May our sights always be aimed toward heaven.” Chase repeated her words in that husky way of his. “My time and life course belong to God.” He shrugged. “That’s why I chose this design.”
“I love it.” She beamed at him. This evening was ending on a way better note than how it had looked only a half hour ago. “Now follow me. I want to show you something.” She grabbed his hand and led him through the living room and onto the balcony. “This is my favorite part of the penthouse.”
He took in the view with appreciation. “I can see why. It’s beautiful. You can see the riverfront.”
Devyn inhaled a nice hunk of crisp night air and gazed out. “I never tire of this view.”
“I agree.” But he wasn’t peering out at the water, he was looking at her. “It’s breathtaking.”
Heat zip-lined her spine. “You think so?”
“Very much. It’s hard to peel my gaze away.” He slid his arms around her waist, drawing her into an embrace. “Which is probably why I should go.”
Well, she wasn’t expecting that. She tipped her face toward him, brows lifted in question.
He tightened his grip for one delicious second, then stepped back. “You had a crazy end to your night. I won’t take advantage of those emotions.”
“Chase Jones.” She raised on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I really like you.”
“Took you long enough.” He quirked a smile. “And likewise, Devyn Asbury.”
His phone buzzed, and she eased away so he could fish his cell from his pocket. He glanced at the screen and smiled. “It’s a text from my professor friend. He cracked the code.”
She sucked in a breath. “What does it say?”
“‘Diamond aboard Idlewild,’” he read aloud. “‘Off-load before Pittsburgh whatever means necessary.’”
Chapter 21
Hattie
The sun tucked behind the jagged tree line, hushing daylight’s vigor.
Jack’s sturdy arms rowed us along the quiet river, paddling away from the Idlewild. There was no moonlight excursion due to the town of Carrolton’s anniversary celebration tonight. Most crewmen headed up the hill to join the festivities, watch fireworks, and no doubt scour the tobacco market which the town was so famous for.
Instead of joining the men, Jack had asked if I’d take a short journey with him in the dinghy. He’d changed from his uniform into beige trousers paired with a matching vest over a cream-colored shirt. The sleeves had been rolled past his forearms allowing easier movement for working the oars. I hadn’t glimpsed him in civilian clothes since the first night we’d met. It was as if he’d removed anything that separated us in station. Tonight, he wasn’t the first mate of a steamboat, my superior. He was just Jack.
The metal bucket I’d previously used to slop fish into settled between our feet, holding our picnic dinner.
I tugged the hem of my dress and, careful not to reveal my knees, recrossed my ankles for the fifth time at least. My restless gaze bounced over the still waters. I should be thrilled about this alone time with Jack. Instead, I was troubled.
Because of the letter.
Because Duffy was breaking the law.
And I couldn’t tell a soul.
How could I betray the man who’d found me, raised me as his own? He’d devoted years to teaching me the ways of the river, the ways of Jesus. It made no sense. Duffy wouldn’t fors
ake his morals and partner with a known criminal like Shakes Donovan for a cut of soiled money. Would he? A steamboat captain’s salary could be considered enviable. Duffy had always squirrelled it away. Or had he? My fingers squeezed the splintery edges of the bench. What if he’d spent it? Lost it somehow? And now, with him retiring he had nothing for us to live on?
But then why purchase those expensive birthday presents?
“Turning twenty-one has made you pensive.” Jack’s kind voice snapped me from my daze. “I’ve never seen you so quiet.”
How was I to respond? That Duffy was a whiskey smuggler? Jack was a prohibition agent, for goodness’ sake! If I leaked word about the letter, Jack would row this dinghy back to the boat and haul Duffy away. Both Jack and Duffy—the two men I admired most—would be plucked from my life in one evening. Fine birthday gift that would be. “I suppose I’m tired.”
Not untrue. My mind had been drifting all day with scenarios of Duffy’s involvement. And it had taken a toll on both mood and energy.
Jack’s smile was comforting, and my fingertips itched to touch it, trace the steady curve, and absorb his strength. “Then I’m glad I stole you for the evening. You could use some time away from the boat.”
Jack was such a good man. But so was Duffy. I just couldn’t understand it. “Have you ever thought a person was one way—someone you thought you knew really well—only to discover they weren’t what you always believed them to be?”
His arms stilled mid-row, elbows locking straight. “Yes.”
I leaned forward, mindful not to rock the boat. “What did you do?”
“I confronted them.” His somber tone reflected in his eyes. “But it didn’t work out as I hoped.”
“Oh.” I’d thought to question Duffy about the letter, but perhaps that wasn’t wise. Though what if this was all a misunderstanding? I could have interpreted the letter wrong. I drummed my fingers along the side of my seat, stopping when a shard of wood pricked my pinky. No, the words had been very clear. Why else would this Jones guy warn Duffy to remain quiet about the delivery? And why even mention Jack in the letter if the freight had nothing to do with alcohol? With a grimace, I picked the splinter out of my flesh and flicked the sliver into the water. “How did it all go wrong?”
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