by Mandie Tepe
“Of course,” she answered. “This rally is nearby, so it’s always like old home week.”
“Old boyfriends?” he asked pointedly.
“Just one,” she admitted.
He was surprised, figuring she wouldn’t tell him even if she had. “Really? Do you want to expound on that?”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how it ended.”
Jimi twisted to face him and draped her legs over his lap, propping an elbow on the back of the sofa. “It ended because I’m not interested in being made over into a model biker’s ol’ lady. And he wasn’t interested in being made over into an evolved male.”
Chance’s lips twitched. “From what you’ve told me, you never were interested in that life, and I can only assume he always was. How did you end up together?”
“Well . . .” she drawled as she looked at him from under lowered eyelashes. “I’m only human and he did look good on that bike. Trouble was that was the only place he ever wanted to be.”
“With you on the back of his bike with him.”
“Right. Taz thought I wasted too much time on my,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “‘little hobbies’ when I should be at his beck and call.”
“Taz?”
Jimi shrugged.
“Is he the only biker you dated?”
“I dated bikers’ sons when they were all too young to be authentic bikers, but that was just kid stuff and doesn’t really count . . . getting dropped off at the roller rink or the mall to hang out.”
“How many guys have you had serious relationships with since?” he asked curiously.
“Serious?” At his nod, she formed a thumb and index finger into a zero. “None that were super serious. I’ve dated a badass biker, an accountant, a couple of aspiring ministers attending Bible college, a retail manager, and . . . oh, I don’t know . . . I may have left off one or two. But none of them lasted long and I couldn’t see myself starting a family with any of them.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No. God has a plan, and if I’m meant to be with someone, he’ll send them my way . . . or me theirs. I mean . . . it’s gotten lonely sometimes, but . . .”
Chance studied her for what seemed like a long time. “How long were you with Taz?”
“A little over a year.”
Chance mulled this over for several moments. “How was it seeing him again?”
“It was good. It’s always good to see him because we ended on friendly terms.”
“Is he with anyone now?”
“Wow, you have a lot of questions about Taz,” she laughed.
“Is he?”
“Taz is with someone every time I run into him. But it’s always a different someone. This time was fine because she seemed cool. Sometimes they’re scary jealous and hate anyone of the female persuasion he’s ever even looked at. They like to think he only sprang into existence the moment he met them,” she snorted.
His eyes seemed to intensify. “How do you react to meeting exes of guys you’re dating?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Well, we’re dating, so wh—”
“We are?” she broke in teasingly.
Chance rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I’m taking you to dinner in a little while if you’re up for it. Now, stop interrupting,” he huffed. “Say we were out tonight and someone I used to date stopped at our table to catch up. How would you react?”
“About how many girls that you’ve dated still live in Carrefour would you say?”
“I don’t know. I was a serial dater in high school, so . . .”
“I would expect nothing less from the Carrefour Trappers’ Pierce,” she paused in comic uncertainty. “Or were you Snare? I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to remember.”
Chance burst out laughing. “Geez, you’re cute,” he chuckled. “I was Snare, by the way. I could catch a pass like nobody’s business . . . like a steel trap.”
Jimi was grinning huge as she enjoyed his laughter. “So you dated a lot in school, but were any of those serious?”
“Serious how? It was high school, so how serious could it be?”
“Did you ever earmark names like Tabitha or Bradley for future children with a girlfriend?”
“Hell, no.”
“Promise to marry someone as soon as you finished—oh, what’s it called in the Navy?—basic training? Boot camp?”
“Close enough. And no, I never did any of that. Does that answer your question about how serious I was in high school?”
“Almost.” She paused to think. “Who did you take to senior prom? Was she a girlfriend or a girlfriend?”
“What’s the difference?” he hedged.
“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean.”
He winked at her. “Evie was a girlfriend, quickly on her way to becoming a girlfriend.”
“Yeah,” Jimi said. “Not surprising.”
“Don’t think I’m unaware of the fact that you’ve subverted the issue. Now, how would you feel about running into one of my exes?”
“I’d be fine with it. Look . . . some guys get a kick out of women acting crazy out of jealousy. It puffs them up. If you’re one of those guys, you’re doomed to be disappointed. I don’t fight for men. I’ve been cheated on and I’ve been dumped. Sure, it hurts—sometimes it’s even brutal and self-esteem crushing. But if someone doesn’t want to be with me, I can’t change that fact, and I’m not gonna bend over backwards and beat my head against a wall trying.”
Chance nodded but he didn’t respond other than that.
“How about you? Ever have your heart broken?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “With my job, I never really let myself get in too deep with anyone.”
“Right.”
“Except once.”
Jimi felt her heart clutch. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh huh. Her name was Ashley and she rejected my valentine in third grade,” he revealed. Jimi’s face went soft as he continued. “Of course, my parents were splitting up at the time so my emotions were pretty close to the surface. I might have taken it harder than I should have.”
“Oh, honey,” she murmured, moving closer.
As she closed in to kiss him, he whispered, “Man, I like you. You’re interesting.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Soon after the conversation that was at the same time deep, revealing and silly, Chance left Jimi so they could both freshen up before he took her out on a real date. They hadn’t technically done that since they’d gone to hear River’s Edge at the casino over a week before, even though they had spent a lot of time together since.
He was even more charmed by her after their impromptu conversation and he realized he hadn’t seen one thing about her that he found off-putting.
Now, a couple of hours later, they found themselves at a local favorite Italian restaurant that had two levels—the upper one overlooking the Mississippi River. Since it was a Sunday evening, the place wasn’t too busy and they were able to get a table upstairs so they could enjoy the view. They couldn’t see the sunset since the windows faced east, but the sunset light reflected beautifully off the partly cloudy sky in that direction.
They’d had good wine, great food and even better conversation. He had shared stories about some of the older military veterans one-upping each other at the VFW the night before and she had some hilarious ones about the bikers’ antics that weekend.
Chance was playing with her fingers on the table, studying the glittery green polish on her nails. She seemed to favor fairy light colors in her manicures, he thought vaguely.
“So, what’s your week coming up look like?”
“Same as always,” she said. “Short work day tomor—”
“And house cleaning?” he interrupted.
“Not tom
orrow. My best friend—Isla—is coming by to help thread my loom. I’m starting a project—an Alexander tartan plaid wall hanging I’m make for Pops for Christmas,” she informed him.
“Oh, that’s nice,” he commented before asking nonchalantly, “When am I going to meet Isla?”
Jimi smiled. “You sound like her. She keeps asking when she’s going to meet you. How about tomorrow afternoon?”
He shifted in his seat. “That would be great, but I might not be around. I have an appointment at the police station to talk over a job opportunity and I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”
Her eyes got huge and she practically vibrated in her seat with excitement. “Really? That’s great!” she exclaimed. “I think you’d b—”
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Are you finally going to give me your opinion on my future plans?” he teased.
She snapped her mouth shut. “No. No, it’s really none of my business. I should jus—”
He curled his hand around hers firmly. “Hey. I was joking. Of course, it’s your business. The way things are go—” He stopped short as his phone on the table beside their hands vibrated and buzzed. Aggravated, he glanced at the display and saw the name of the local hospital flashing across the caller display. “Mercy Hospital,” he murmured. He glanced back up at Jimi.
“You should answer that,” she said. “It might be something serious. Or maybe it’s your father. Does he work at Mercy?”
“He does, but he wouldn’t be working now . . . or calling me from his office phone. He always calls from his cell.”
“Pick it up,” she insisted.
So he did. “Hello? . . . Yes . . . Yes, this is Chance Loughlin . . . My mother? . . . Umm . . . alright . . .” He looked up at Jimi from where he’d been staring intently at the red-checkered tablecloth. “Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can . . . Alright . . . Yes, thank you.” He disconnected still staring into her eyes.
“Is your mother okay?” she asked.
“I don’t know. She was brought in by ambulance.”
“They didn’t say why? How she is?”
“Stable. They said she was stable, but she was asking them to call me.”
“You need to go,” Jimi declared as she looked around for their server. She must have immediately caught the young man’s eye because he came right over. “Can we get our check?” When he took off to print it, she turned back to Chance. “You go on. I can call for a ride. I’ll be okay.”
“No. I’m not going to leave you to find your way home alone. I’ll drop you off an—”
“But that’s all the way on the opposite side of town from the hospital. You’ll have to double back.”
“It doesn’t matter, I—”
“Just take me with you to the hospital. There are plenty of comfortable waiting rooms. I’ll come along and you take care of your mom’s situation. It’ll be fine.”
“I hate to ask y—”
“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”
Before he could argue any further the server arrived with the check.
CHAPTER 9
On the drive to the hospital Jimi began to worry about Chance’s state of mind. He didn’t say anything for the longest time. He just sat there, his muscles tight as a drum and his knuckles white from ruthlessly gripping the steering wheel. It only seemed a long time because it really didn’t take much time to get anywhere in their small town—including the hospital.
Not knowing if he even remembered her presence, she didn’t wait for him to come around to open her door for her. When she slammed it shut she noticed he was circling the front passenger side corner, so she guessed he had still been aware of her presence.
Grabbing his hand, she asked, “Are you okay, Chance?”
He gripped hers tight. “Yeah. Sure,” he answered uncertainly. Sighing, he continued, “I just don’t understand why she wanted them to call me instead of her husband. I keep running through all of the scenarios in my head. Do you think it was a domestic violence thing? Maybe he hurt her,” he wondered, “so that’s why he’s not around.”
“You don’t know that. You said yourself they were having problems, so maybe it’s just that she didn’t think he’d be supportive right now. Has he ever hurt her before?”
“Not that I know of, but we’re not particularly close. I wonder why she’d think I would be supportive? I’ve never been able to call on her for support. I have no idea what I’m walking in on or how I’m supposed to handle whatever that is.”
“It’ll be fine. You’ll get through it and I’ll help any way that I can,” Jimi soothed.
Chance stopped abruptly just outside the entrance and pulled her close, hugging her. “Thanks, peaches,” he whispered. “I’m sorry our date’s been ruined.”
“Nothing could ruin that date. It just ended a little earlier than we expected.”
They walked through the ER entrance and made their way toward the check-in desk.
“Do you want me to call River while you go back to see her?” Jimi offered.
“No, I’ll call him when we know what’s going on. He’s probably on stage right now anyway. Besides, I want you to go back with me,” he said.
“Oh no,” she protested, “I’ll just wait out here an—”
“I really need you for backup. Is it too much to ask of you? Too early in our relationship?”
She studied his worried and conflicted eyes. While she didn’t want to insert herself into his family drama, she did want to support him in any way she could. “Of course it’s not. I’ll do whatever you need.”
At the desk, he leaned in, asked about his mother and explained that someone on the staff had called him. The woman at the desk looked over her shoulder and asked a nursing aide to lead them back to Suzanne. As he and Jimi followed, he kept a death grip on her hand.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Suzanne Reynolds lay on the gurney in a curtained off cubicle blinking back tears. She nervously fiddled with the plastic tubing leading from the cannula feeding oxygen through her nose. There was more plastic tubing snaking from a hanging IV bag, attached to a needle inserted into the back of her hand.
She was calmer now than she had been earlier, partly because she could finally breathe and due to the medicine the doctor had ordered to do just that—calm her. Suzanne had truly believed she was going to die before the ambulance got to her. She continued to believe it on the ride over.
As she fretted over whether Chance would even bother to come, her breathing went shallow and short, again so she forced herself to take a deep breath. Just then, a nurse’s hand grabbed the edge of the curtain and pulled it aside far enough to allow her son to duck into the tiny cubicle. Noticing a woman sitting by another gurney across the way gawking at her, she wished she had been taken to a more private space.
Chance prowled in, his eyes capturing hers. At first that’s all she noticed. He’d come . . . and he seemed concerned. The tears began to pool, but she tried to blink them away when she noticed he had a pretty girl by the hand trailing behind him into the space. The nurse let the curtain fall closed again, but she didn’t join them.
“Mom?” Chance said, his eyes seeming to take inventory of her lying there. They paused on the IV stand and the oxygen cannula. “What’s going on?”
Suzanne reached up to brush the tears away. She didn’t want to seem as weak as she actually felt in that moment. Especially in front of the strange, fairy-like girl her son still had hold of. She wished he’d let go of the young woman and hold her hand instead, but she knew that would never happen. She should just be grateful that he had come.
Her eyes—somewhat cleared of tears—swept over him. He was beautiful. Tall and fit. He must have been out somewhere special with the girl because he was in nice jeans and a silk tee the color of his eyes under a tweed blazer. It had been warm that weekend, but the wind had blown in cooler air that evening. Her eyes shifted to the woman standin
g awkwardly beside and a bit behind him. She wasn’t the type of woman Suzanne would have expected for her son—more on the cute side than drop dead gorgeous. Then again, Suzanne didn’t really know him and his tastes. She couldn’t remember him ever introducing her to a girl he was seeing.
This young woman had beautiful corkscrew curls of strawberry blonde tumbling everywhere. She wondered if it was styled that way or blown about by the cool winds outside on her way in. She was dressed for the chill in a short muted floral tube skirt, and a nautical striped tee under a stylish—but not high-end—jean jacket. She wore dark tights and flat boots. The mix-and-match patterns shouldn’t have worked, but they did.
Suzanne must have stared for too long because the girl pulled her hand from Chance’s and took a step backward. “I’ll wait outside the curtain,” she murmured to him with a blush.
He looked over his shoulder at her. “No, peaches,” he muttered back. “You stay here with me.”
His mother’s heart clutched because he sounded like he needed the girl there. And Suzanne didn’t even know who she was.
He turned back to face her. “Mom, this is Jimi . . .” he paused a moment—as if uncertain—before adding, “She’s my girlfriend.”
This declaration startled Suzanne. He hadn’t mentioned he was seeing anyone when they’d had dinner last. Then again, her boys never shared anything too personal going on in their lives with her and she never really thought to ask. When she glanced back at the fairy-like girl, she noticed she seemed startled by his words as well. Ah, Suzanne thought, it’s new . . . brand new.
Chance continued the introductions. “Jimi, this is my mother . . . Suzanne Reynolds.”
Jimi stepped closer, but not too close. “Mrs. Reynolds,” she said politely. “It’s nice to meet you . . .” She trailed off because what did someone say when they met their new boyfriend’s mother under these circumstances?
Chance asked again, “What’s going on, Mom?”
“I jus-just . . . I think I’m having some sort of heart issue. They’ve been running tests and I’m waiting for them to come in and let me know what the results are.”
