"I just don't think it's right that kids are taught the military is a last resort,” he said. “All I was asking for in there was an equal shot."
"You and me both,” she muttered.
The elevator lurched again. Ginger took another deep breath. They should be on the first floor by now, but the snail's pace had slowed further.
"You okay over there?" Chase asked.
Ginger’s spine straightened. "Fine."
The metal box lurched again as if trying to decide whether to be the tortoise or the hare. The jerky indecision caused both occupants to lurch. Chase caught Ginger in his arms before she crashed into one side of the wall. The lights went out, and the elevator came to a stop.
Ginger whimpered, burying her head in his chest. Chase wasn't afraid. He'd been trapped in worse conditions during his time in service. So, why was his heart beating twenty klicks a minute?
Chapter Six
The world was dark and still inside the confining space of the steel box. But while she was suspended in midair inside the elevator, Ginger didn’t know the metallic taste of fear. Because the elevator wasn’t the hard cage she was focused on. Her senses were wrapped up in the fact that she was inside of Sergeant Colin Chase’s arms, and she didn't want to leave.
Ginger was fine with confined spaces. She had gone from living in the lap of luxury in a mansion with more rooms than she could count to a two-bedroom apartment on the wrong side of town without skipping a beat. She liked tight spaces. She did not, however, like being trapped in a space where she didn't want to be.
That wasn't the case here. Being inside of Chase’s hold reminded her of that space under a warm blanket on a cold night when she’d pull the four corners of the sheet in, tucking them under her toes and fingers. During those cold nights, she’d always tunnel into the mattress and burrow into the warmest spot. The warmest spot of Chase was just right of the center of his chest, where his heartbeat was strongest.
For the first time in a long time, Ginger’s knees went weak. Her fingers dug into Chase’s shirt. And she couldn’t remember why she didn’t have one of these male creatures on hand on a regular basis? This one sure beat the feel of the patchwork quilt she’d gotten from the department store last winter.
"You're safe," Chase soothed. "I've got you."
He brushed his fingers across her brow, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. Ginger’s entire body shivered at the brush of his calloused fingertips. She'd been in Chase's arms before, during another moment of weakness. Why was she always going weak around him?
You're safe. I’ve got you.
Her body melted into his strong chest. She had never heard those words from a man in her whole life. Definitely not from her father. Surely, not from the two boyfriends she'd had in high school and college. They'd both been clueless. She took better care of herself than any man, and that included her father.
But in this moment of darkness, stillness, and warmth, Councilwoman Ginger Dumasse was happy to hand over the keys to her wellbeing to Sergeant Colin Chase. She knew with certainty that he could handle any situation he was thrust into.
The colors on his uniform became visible as the lights came back on. Now out of the darkness, those colors brought her to her senses. The sharp contrast between the dark colors of his uniform and the light colors of her business suit made her focus.
She and Chase were opposites. She disagreed with this man at every turn. Right?
But as he gazed down at her, Ginger couldn’t remember a single thing she stood for. Was she for or against chin stubble, she wondered as she caught sight of Chase’s five o clock shadow? What was her stance on kissing on the first date? Would she prefer a fall or summer wedding?
"I'll press the help button," he said.
His words snatched the edges of the warm blanket from her toes, letting the cold air hit her. She stepped back and out of his hold. “No, I've got it."
"You're wobbly,” he said.
"I'm perfectly fine,” she insisted.
Ginger stomped her foot down on the metal floor. But her right heel teetered on her pumps. The elevator lurched again, sending her back into Chase’s arms.
She couldn’t hide the wobbling or the teetering now. In fact, she was downright shaking. She was going to die in an elevator with Chase Collins. Senator Dean would run unopposed. Her issues, which she still couldn’t quite remember, would never be brought to light. And the community she loved so dearly would continue to suffer without a clear vision and plan for the future.
But as she wobbled and teetered, she did it on firm ground with secure straps around her person. It was Chase. Her head was once again just off to the center of his chest.
"I'm going to get you out of here,” said Chase.
His breathing was easy. His pulse steady. His demeanor one of total control, even though they were at the mercy of a rickety steel cage of death. But his heartbeat was racing too. It was the only thing that gave her any notice that he was human.
Meanwhile, Ginger was a quivering mess. Her limbs shook. She wasn’t sure if she’d held back the cry that had lodged in her throat. And her heartbeat raced so hard she was concerned it might explode out of her chest.
No. This would not do at all for a woman who wanted to assume a leadership role. Ginger pushed off Chase and turned for the help button.
"I can get us out of here,” she insisted as she depressed the button.
"You're not good at taking orders, are you?”
"You're not good at following behind a woman, are you?”
The red light above the help button turned on as if urging her to stop. She didn’t. She never seemed to mind the boundaries when this man was involved.
"Your gender isn't an issue,” said Chase. “I’ve had plenty of female superiors."
“So, what?” She cocked a hand on her hip. “You don't consider me a superior?"
Chase grinned. It was a devastating move. It turned his face from stern to handsome. “I think you're one of the smartest, most prepared persons that I've ever met."
Ginger came from a long line of pageant princesses. She’d rejected that lifestyle in her late teens. Hearing those words come out of Chase’s mouth made her feel like she’d won the crown and the sash and the scepter. She wanted to preen under his compliments. But she sensed a but coming, so she tilted her head back as though to let any adornment slide off her head.
"But,” continued Chase, “you can be too stubborn to do what's good for you. That’s a mark against you."
Ginger pointed a finger at her chest. "I'm stubborn?"
Chase lifted a brow. The move made her dislike him more. The man had so much self-control that he could operate his facial features singly. It was unnatural and unfair.
"Because I offered to press a button?” she said.
"You didn't offer.” He lowered his brow. “You demanded."
"Because I was in a better position."
"You were cowering in my arms."
"Cowering?” Both her brows rose to her hairline. “I do not cower."
"It's fine to be scared."
"I wasn't scared. I was startled.” She pointed a finger at him. “And your heart was racing, too."
He didn’t come back with an immediate retort. His throat worked like he was trying to gulp discreetly. Ha! So, soldier boy didn’t have total control over his faculties. She’d gotten under his skin.
Ginger put her hands back on her hips. Her chest lifted in triumph. She wet her lips, preparing to go in for the kill.
Chase’s nostrils flared. He let out a long, slow sigh as his gaze swept her body. Suddenly, Ginger’s triumph felt like surrender.
He stepped toward her. Her fight or flight senses engaged. Her head told her to flee. Her heart told her to fly into his arms.
Now, it was Ginger who was trying to gulp discreetly. It didn’t work. Chase’s gaze latched onto her throat, and she would’ve killed for a glass of water.
He opened his mouth to speak. Before
she was able to hear a single syllable, the ding of the door opening cut him off. They both turned to look out of the open doors.
They had arrived. They were on the ground floor. Outside the open doors stood the reporter who had badgered Ginger on the third floor.
Oh, no. If the newsman saw her and Chase together, they'd be paired again. The papers would label them a couple. Their names would be plastered all over the front page, linking them as involved with one another.
Which would be … a bad thing. Right?
Luckily, the reporter's back was turned to them.
Which was a … good thing. Right?
The last thing Ginger needed was to be linked to Sergeant Colin Chase for romantic or political reasons. And so she cleared her throat.
Fortunately, the reporter didn’t turn around.
Ginger cleared her throat again. She coughed into her hands when the reporter continued staring down at his phone.
"Well, that's over," she said loudly.
"Yes," Chase agreed, his voice was too quiet to carry.
"Thank you for your service, Sergeant Chase.”
At that announcement, the reporter hung up his phone. He slipped it in his pocket. And turned… toward the door.
Ginger let out a huff. The gust of air came loudly from between her lips. But the reporter was already at the door.
She looked up to find Chase quirking that single brow at her again. Ginger wanted to growl. But she kept it in. Instead, she turned on her heel and promptly caught a snag in the decades’ old carpet.
Her momentum propelled her forward, but her heel held her back. She was on her way to crashing down and let out a yelp of helplessness. Instead of meeting the dingy carpet that had captured her foot, she was caught by Chase’s strong arms and brought once more to his strong chest.
And that’s when the camera flash went off.
Chapter Seven
“Oh, oh, oh! Here's another one."
Ortega unwrapped the newspaper like it was an oversized Christmas present. But there was no box. It was the wrapping that had the soldier in a holiday tizzy.
On the one-page spread was yet another glossy headline with a photo of Ginger in Chase's embrace. The image wasn’t snapped from last night. The picture was from Ortega and Honey’s wedding when Chase and Ginger had been caught together in the barn.
Not that they had been doing anything wrong. Though, in that picture, Ginger was gazing in his eyes like she wanted to do something. In that stolen moment, Chase had been staring at her lips. It had been easy to do at that moment; she had been quiet.
She had also been soft and vulnerable. Even after they’d been snapped by that photographer, and convention said they should break apart, Chase hadn’t wanted to let her go. He’d felt the same way in the elevator last night when she’d been in his arms. She’d been even softer, quieter, with a touch more vulnerability. Her eyes had gone wide, her lips had parted, her nostrils had flared.
Or maybe that was just the way she looked when startled? They had been surprised by the cameraman at the wedding. The elevator getting stuck was also an unexpected occurrence. Maybe that was just her fight or flight responses he was seeing.
Why did he even care? He didn't want to kiss Ginger Dumasse. Did he?
"The headline reads the Soldier and the Senator.” Corporal Brandon Lucas frowned at the thin sheet. "They didn't even get your rank right."
"I think they were going for alliteration," said Private Reece Cartwright. He was the youngest of their group, and the most well-read.
"Sergeant and Senator are alliterative," countered Lucas.
The four men stood in Ortega’s small kitchen in his home on the ranch. The three men of Chase’s unit all still lived on the ranch, at least for the time being. Brandon and his wife Reegan were rebuilding her family’s home back in the heart of town. Reece and his wife Beth had learned not too long ago that they were expecting, so they were looking for a new home of their own in town. Mark's wife, Honey, was a former society miss. Chase caught sight of the young woman out the window with her hands in the mud, streaks of grass and grime were painted all over her shirt and pants. Honey loved the ranch and had no plans to return to high tea and ballrooms any time soon.
"It says she's only dating you to get her poll numbers up and to court the older voters who don't like her single status." Ortega frowned. "That's libel. Ginger is nothing like that."
Chase didn't say anything. Norman Dean had told him that an endorsement from a military man would lift his poll numbers. Chase wouldn't put it past Ginger. Politicians were all alike. His father had enough of them in his pocket for Chase to know.
But Ginger hadn't made Chase any offers. She hadn't tried to do any deals under the table with him. She hadn’t even asked for his support. All she'd tried to do was convince him of her side of the issues. He didn't disagree with where she wanted to go, just how she planned to get there.
"What are you going to do about this?" Ortega demanded.
“Do?” asked Chase. “I’m not going to do anything.”
"They printed lies," said Ortega, taking on his brother-in-law role. "About both of you. We can't let this stand.”
Ortega put the paper down and focused on Chase. His eyes went over his face, left to right and back again as though he were reading Chase.
“Unless there is something going on between you two,” said Ortega.
“Wait?” Lucas turned his back on Chase and faced Ortega. “I thought there was something going on between them.”
"Yeah, me too,” said Cartwright, also giving Chase his back. "And that they were just keeping it quiet."
"Is that true?" asked Ortega.
At least he had the decency to face Chase as he inquired about his private business. The other two men turned back around, giving Chase their full attention.
Outside the windows, leaves were falling off trees. A few brown and red blades aimed at the windows. They hit the glass with soundless thuds and dropped to the ground.
"There's nothing going on between me and Ginger Dumasse."
The three men traded knowing looks. Before any of them could voice their unwanted opinions, the back door exploded open, and a small army stormed in.
Maggie Banks came in with a baby in her arms and three dogs at her feet. "Oh, good, there you are, Chase. I was hoping you would invite Ginger to Sunday dinner.”
The three stooges standing off to the side each wore wide grins. They knew their job in this battle was done. Reinforcements had arrived.
"Why don't you ask her sister?” Chase said. "Or call her yourself."
"I figured you'd see her sooner.” Maggie switched the baby to her other hip.
Behind him, Chase heard snickering from the peanut gallery. The dogs all looked up at him, panting and drooling as they waited for his response.
"Ginger and I aren't dating."
“Yeah, right.” Maggie snorted. "But can you ask her anyway? And let her know she’s always welcome at our table. She’s practically family.”
Chase opened his mouth to … To what? There was no sense arguing with this bunch. Their minds were made up on this issue. It didn’t matter that they were wrong.
“So, this is where the party is.” Reegan came into the back door behind Maggie. "Oh, hey, Chase. Is Ginger coming to church this Sunday?”
"I don't know. We’re not-”
“Make sure you guys pencil in couple’s night out at Patel’s restaurant, too."
Chase snapped his mouth shut. Why waste his breath?
"Welcome to the club.” Lucas clapped Chase on his shoulder before going over and embracing his wife.
As plans for his life were being made, Chase escaped the madhouse through the front door. He made it all the way to the parking lot and into his truck without any more interruptions or invitations. The long drive back into town helped to clear his head. He loved his team. He loved the women on the ranch. But they had this mad idea that everyone should be in a relationship.<
br />
He wanted a family. Someday. But he had another passion to tend to first.
Thirty minutes later, Chase pulled into the recruitment center. It was tucked at the end of a shopping strip that featured a convenience store, a coin laundry, and a Chinese food takeout. Not the highest traffic. So, he was surprised to see someone waiting outside the door of the center.
When the man in shirt and tie saw Chase in his truck, he waved. So, it wasn’t a mistake. He was waiting for Chase.
Chase climbed out of the vehicle and approached. As he got closer to the center’s door, he heard a peculiar sound. It sounded like the phone was ringing inside the offices. It wouldn’t be Ortega. The man had his cell phone number.
"You're Soldier Chase?” asked the man waiting in front of the door.
"Sergeant. Sergeant Chase.”
"Right. I’m David Jacobs, the Assistant Principal at Charbury’s Private Academy. We’d love for you to come and speak with our students.”
"You would?"
"Yes.”
“About the military?”
Mr. Jacobs waggled his head, neither up and down or left or right. “We're thrilled that Councilwoman Dumasse is taking an interest in the military.”
"Well, I don't know if she is interested in the military."
"Her beau is an officer, so I have to assume she is. I’m hoping she might take an interest in a bill that deals with private school funding.”
A bill? Private schools? Chase opened his mouth to correct the man, but the phone rang out again.
“Would you come in, Mr. Jacobs. I just need to get that.”
Chase unlocked the door. He got to the phone before the call ended.
"Is this Sergeant Chase?” asked the caller. “The one dating Councilwoman Dumasse?"
Chase let out a long breath as he slumped into his chair. “How can I help you?”
"This is AgriCo, we’re a lobby group for Montana Farmers. I wonder if you might be interested in speaking at our annual meeting. Your girlfriend is invited too.”
In His Good Hands Page 3
