by Vi Keeland
“Only one I have.”
“Do you play often?”
“It’s been years since I played. I’m kind of shocked I remembered the chords. My fingers just started playing it—probably because I played it about ten thousand times when we were kids. I only know four songs. ‘Blackbird’ was Owen’s favorite before he lost his hearing. I learned to play it for him after he’d completely lost all audio reception. He would hold the guitar and feel the vibrations and sing along.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah. Oddly enough, music was a big bond between us growing up. We used to play this game where I would hum songs, and he would touch my face and try to guess the song from the vibration. He was really good at it. I mean really good at it. I only had to hum a few bars, and he would know the song. Over the years, it became our secret little language—a way of communicating what I was thinking to him without anyone knowing. Like, sometimes we would go to our Aunt Sophie’s house, and she would sneak and pour gin into a coffee mug. She thought none of us knew. But after her third cup of ‘caffeine’, she would start to slur a bit. So when she called our house, I’d answer, give our mom the phone, and then hum Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’. Owen would hold my face for two seconds and then guess who was on the phone.”
Chase laughed. “That’s great.”
“Except I often still do it, and I don’t even realize. I’ll be in the middle of something and notice I’m humming a song that expresses my thoughts.”
“Well, hopefully you won’t be humming Johnny Paycheck anytime soon.”
“Johnny Paycheck?”
“Sings ‘Take this Job and Shove It’. I’d rather hear some Marvin Gaye flowing from those lips.”
“Let me guess, ‘Let’s Get it On’?”
“You know you’ll be humming it, too, huh?”
“You have a one-track mind.”
He looked at me funny, seeming almost perplexed at his own answer. “Lately, I think you’re right. Got this spitfire on my mind all the time. Her attitude is as fiery as her hair.”
I laughed it off like it was a joke, but something told me he was being honest, that he really was thinking about me all the time. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking from my own one-track mind.
“So how did your brother lose his hearing anyway? You mentioned it was an accident. Was it a sports injury or something?”
While I never liked telling the story, I figured Chase of all people would understand, considering what I’d learned about his girlfriend. I’d pretty much obsessed over what Lindsey had told me the other day. It made me wonder if the past experiences Chase and I shared were some sort of unspoken connection between us.
“When I was nine, and Owen was ten, there was a string of home break-ins in our neighborhood—mostly just burglaries while the homeowners were out. Owen and I were latchkey kids. Our parents went to work before we left for school and came home after us. They also didn’t get along, and my dad would frequently take off for a few days at a time, so the house was pretty much empty most days. One Tuesday, we had a half-day of school because the teachers were having some sort of a development conference. When we came home early, we walked into our house being robbed by two men.”
“Shit. I had no idea, Reese. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s okay. I don’t talk about it much. But it’s part of who I am, part of who Owen is, for better or worse. Even though Owen was only ten, he pushed me back out the door and started screaming for help. One of the guys was holding our Xbox and used it like a bat to Owen’s head—fractured the temporal bone and severed a nerve that sent Owen to the hospital with a concussion for a few days and left permanent sensorineural hearing loss.”
“Jesus Christ. You were just kids.”
“It could have been worse—at least that’s what Owen’s always said. He was still a pretty happy kid even after he lost his hearing.”
“And you? Were you hurt at all?”
“I fell waiting for the ambulance while I was trying to take care of Owen, cut my hand on a piece of jagged metal on the broken Xbox.” I held up my right hand and showed him the faint star-shaped scar between my thumb and pointer. “Didn’t even need a stitch, healed itself.” I laughed. “It’s funny. Owen bore all the physical injuries, and he walks around pretty much carefree. I, on the other hand, walked away unscathed, yet I’m the one with a half dozen locks on her door and a compulsion for checking the backseat of my car and behind the shower curtain multiple times a day. I’m sort of afraid of my own shadow.”
“But you look in the backseat instead of not driving?”
I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “I guess so. Yes.”
“That’s not being afraid. Being afraid is when you let fear control your life, let it stop you from doing what you want. When you’re afraid, but you look your fear in the eye and live, that’s courageous.”
And there it was again. That invisible connection I’d felt to him since the first night we met. I didn’t understand it, couldn’t explain it or see it, yet I was certain it was there. I just knew he understood me, and it made me want to understand him, too. He couldn’t have chosen anything more perfect to say.
“Thank you for saying that. I don’t know why, but it always feels like you know what I need to hear.” I scoffed. “Even when you told me I was being a bitch in that restaurant hallway, I suppose.”
Chase stared at me. “Did they catch the guys who did it?”
“Took a few months, but eventually they did. I think I slept for twenty-four hours the day after they were arrested. I had taken to sleeping on the floor in Owen’s room, and any little sound would wake me.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Thank you.” Talking about that day always made me feel sad, but somehow, today, it felt oddly cathartic, and I was ready to move on to lighter topics. “So, you cook, huh?”
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“Let’s see what you can do, Bossman.”
Chase turned on the griddle of his big stove and tossed a few slices of whole wheat bread on to grill. He then took out the strangest combination of things…including pineapple, cream cheese, and a bag of nuts.
As he began slicing the pineapple, he smiled and extended a piece to me across the island. “Are you a picky eater?”
“Not usually. I like to experiment.”
“So you’ll let me feed you whatever I want?”
My eyebrows jumped.
“I was talking about pineapple-cream cheese-cashew surprise. But I like the way you’re thinking better.”
The flirty banter was back, and the awkwardness from the living room seemed to be behind us, though I still felt the need to address it.
I looked up at him and spoke softly. “I’m sorry about before—for picking up the guitar and helping myself to it. I shouldn’t have done that. It looked like it upset you.”
He looked away briefly. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s been collecting dust for years anyway. Someone should play it.”
“You don’t play?”
“No, I don’t.”
He offered nothing else, so I left it be.
The bizarre sandwiches he made us turned out to be delicious, and we sat in the kitchen, talking as we ate.
“This house is beautiful,” I told him. “I’ll admit, I would have guessed you more of a penthouse/highrise type than a brownstone guy before today. But seeing this, it fits you.”
“Oh yeah? I’m not really sure what that means. Is it good?”
I smiled. “It is.”
“Tell me, does Brice live in a penthouse or a brownstone?”
“Bryant. And he lives in a regular apartment building, I guess. Like me.”
“And is that the type of guy you normally go for?”
“My type seems to be more the liars, losers, and leeches. I haven’t had the best luck in my love life the last…I don’t know…dozen or so years.”
“Is that all, just a dozen years? It’s a dry spell. I’m sure it will clear up any day.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Tell me about Barclay. Which one is he? Liar, loser, or leech?”
I shook my head. “Bryant isn’t any of them.” Popping the last piece of the snack Chase had made into my mouth, I figured it was his turn to talk. But he didn’t. Instead he watched me chew and waited for me to continue. “I’m pretty sure he’s a genuinely nice guy.”
“So why haven’t you slept with him yet?”
“I think you have an unhealthy obsession with my sex life. This is, like, the third time you’ve asked me about my relationship with Bryant.”
Chase shrugged. “I’m curious.”
“About my sex life?”
“Or lack thereof. Yes.”
“Why?”
“I honestly have no fucking clue.”
“Well…when was the last time you had sex?”
Chase sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest. “Before I met you.”
I had no idea where the conversation was going or what it meant, but every nerve in my body was excited we were having it.
“Dry spell?” I asked.
“You could say that,” he responded.
“I could say that? What kind of an answer is that? Is there anything else I could say?”
Chase leaned in. “You could say I’m waiting for the woman I really want to sleep with to become available so I can make my move.”
I swallowed. We sat in silence for a few minutes, just looking at each other. A part of me wanted to pick up the phone and break things off with Bryant, right then and there. But the other, more sane, part of me remembered that the beautiful creature sitting across the table was my boss.
“Have you ever had an office fling?” I asked, tilting my head.
I could see a million questions run through Chase’s mind. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Smartly, he settled on the truth. “I have.”
“So have I. It didn’t work out too well.”
He held my eyes, not backing down. “Shame. You know the old saying, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again.” When his eyes moved from mine down to my mouth, and he licked his lips before they finally returned, I knew it was time to change the subject.
Abruptly, I stood. “How about a tour of the house?”
“Absolutely. There’s one room in particular I’d like to show you.”
Chapter 13
Reese
I was exhilarated after spending the day working, almost high. It was only me and Josh left sitting on Chase’s rooftop deck—and Chase, of course. The other four, including Lindsey, were gone. Josh and I had stayed to have a beer now that work was done.
I was sporting a ridiculously large smile. “At the risk of sounding like a complete goofball, I need to tell you, today was amazing. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed working on anything this much. I’m not sure I ever have.”
Josh tipped his beer in my direction. “It did feel good. Damn good. But I think you have a lot to do with that, Reese. You being new to the group seemed to bring out something in all of us—Chase especially.” He shifted his eyes to Chase. “I haven’t seen you this fired up in years. Today felt more like a new product launch than a rebranding campaign. Everything seemed new again.”
Chase was sitting back in a lounge chair. He wore dark sunglasses, but I could feel his eyes on me nonetheless.
Nodding, he said, “It felt right. Been a long time since anything felt so right.”
After a few more minutes, Josh guzzled back the rest of his beer. “Gotta head out. Elizabeth is making me go to a cake-tasting party tonight. Since when did everything about weddings turn into a damn event? I’ve had to go to a food tasting, a band showcase, and a floral-presentation party. Vegas is sounding better and better.”
“Just wait.” Chase stood. “Anna had a bridal shower, a pregnancy-announcement party, and a gender-reveal party. You’re just getting started, buddy.”
“What the hell is a gender-reveal party?”
“The parents-to-be give a sealed envelope that contains the sex of the baby to a bakery, and the baker puts pink frosting inside the cupcakes if it’s a girl and blue if it’s a boy. Then they have a party, and everyone finds out at the same time, including the parents-to-be. Pure. Fucking. Torture. Whatever happened to the kid popping out and the doctor giving it a smack and yelling it’s a boy over the thing crying?”
“Thanks. More to look forward to.”
Chase slapped Josh on the back as we walked to the stairs. “You’re welcome.”
Arriving on the first floor, I eyed the mess we’d left in the living room and dining room. Chase had dinner brought in, and there were dishes and balled-up papers from our work session all over the place.
“Where you heading, Reese?” Josh asked. “I’m going to grab a cab downtown if you want to split one.”
“I’m cross town. But I’m going to stay for another minute and help Chase pick up a bit.”
Josh looked over my shoulder, seeing the mess for the first time. “Crap. Thanks. I owe you one, Reese. See you Monday.”
Before Chase even returned from walking Josh out, I had the place halfway cleaned. I picked up the garbage, and I was rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher when I felt Chase come up behind me. He gently placed a hand on my face, and I stopped what I was doing.
“Keep going.”
At first, I thought he meant to continue loading the dishwasher. Then I realized I’d been humming. Smiling, I continued with my tune. Luckily, he was no Owen. I would have been mortified had he guessed the song I was humming.
“’Thinking Out Loud’, Ed Sheeran.”
“Not even close.” I laughed.
“’I Don’t Mind’, Usher.”
I shook my head. “You do realize those two songs sound nothing alike?”
I finished loading the dishwasher while Chase moved the furniture we’d rearranged back. We glanced up at each other as we worked.
“Plans for tonight?” he asked.
“No. I wasn’t sure what time we’d be done. You?”
“Nope. Wanna share another beer with me?”
“Sure. Why not?”
He grabbed two Sam Adams bottles from the fridge, and we sat down on the living room couch. Opening one, he took a sip and handed me the bottle, setting the other unopened one on the end table next to him.
I took the bottle. “I didn’t realize you meant literally share a beer.” I sipped and then offered it back to him. Raising my fingers to my wet lips, my instinct was to wipe away the beer remnants. But then I realized it wasn’t just beer on my lips—it was Chase on my lips. His eyes followed the path of my tongue as I instead licked the wet spot off. The way he looked at me sent tingles of arousal through my body, hitting certain places more than others.
Desire built as we quietly finished one beer, and then he cracked open the other. I never knew something so innocent could seem so much like foreplay. There goes my theory of getting him out of my system this morning.
“We’re off the clock now, aren’t we?” He passed me the bottle.
“Hmmm…not sure how weekends work. It’s technically not a workday, yet we did work today. Still, I’d have to say even if Saturday counts as part of the workweek, we’re off the clock by now.”
“So I’m not your boss right now, then?”
“Suppose not.” I grinned and took a long sip from our beer.
“Well, then…it wouldn’t be inappropriate to tell you that while I was in the shower this morning, I closed my eyes and thought of you as I took care of myself.”
I was mid-swallow when what he’d said registered.
I choked, sputtering and spraying beer all over the place. Coughing, my voice was hoarse. “You what?”
“From your reaction, I’d say you heard me correctly.” He took the beer from my hand.
“Why would you te
ll me that?”
“Because it’s true. And I figured I’d lay all my cards on the table. You’re not having sex. I’m not having sex. Thought maybe we could work through our problem together.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“So why aren’t you having sex, then?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Because I’d like to have it with you, and you haven’t given in to me. Yet.” He brought the beer to his lips and watched me as he drank.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You know I’m seeing someone.”
“I do. That’s why we’re having this conversation. If you weren’t seeing someone, I’d have you up on that kitchen island showing you what I want to do to you, rather than telling you.”
“Is that so?”
He moved closer. “It is.”
“What if I’m not into you in that way?”
Chase looked down, his eyes lingering on my nipples. My very erect nipples. “Your body says otherwise.”
“Maybe I’m just cold.”
He inched closer. “Is that it? Are you cold, Reese? Because you actually look a little warm. Flushed, even.”
“You’re my boss.”
“Not now. You just said so yourself.”
“But...even if I wasn’t dating Brice—”
“Bryant,” Chase corrected me with a smirk.
Oh my God. “Bryant. Even if I wasn’t dating Bryant. And even if I was attracted to you—”
“You are.”
“Quit interrupting. You’re trying to confuse me. Like I was saying, even without Bryant in the picture and me being slightly attracted to you, it still can’t happen. I really like this job, and I don’t want to screw things up.”
“What if I fired you?”
“That probably wouldn’t be the best way to get into my pants.”
“Tell me what is.”
I chuckled. “You sound pretty desperate.”
Although we’d been teasing, his response was serious. “I feel pretty damn desperate right about now.”
So did I, but I wanted him to truly understand where my head was. “Can I be honest with you?”
“I’d be upset if you weren’t.”
