Nichole set the last of the sandwiches they’d assembled for lunch on a platter and leaned her hip against the marble counter. Her voice unhurried as if to temper Wesley’s energy. “You found a snow fort for your snow zombies to hide out in.”
Ben bumped into Wesley, unable to contain his own squeal. He threw his hands up, flinging out more delight. “Better than that.”
Brooke added honey to her teacup and held up the plastic jar shaped like a bear. “You found bear tracks.”
“Bears are hibernating.” Ben’s dry tone indicated his displeasure with her guess. “It’s winter.”
“We know that.” Nichole wrapped her arm around Brooke’s shoulders and motioned between them. “We wanted to make sure you were paying attention.”
“It’s way better than bears.” Wesley stretched out his joy into several hops in place, knocking more snow free from his snow pants.
Chase channeled his inner boy and joined the game like he’d been doing since their arrival yesterday. Despite his promise to keep his distance. Last night, they’d needed him to round out the teams for cards. Then again, this morning for the snowmen challenge. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint the boys. And he really liked being included. “You’re telling me that you found something better than a snow fort and bear tracks right outside.”
Both boys nodded repeatedly. Each head bob notched their grins wider.
Chase rubbed his chin and considered the pair. Exhilaration radiated from their red cheeks to their owlish round eyes. They looked about to burst. “It must be really good then.”
“It’s awesome,” Wesley shouted.
“So awesome.” Ben’s holler lifted into the loft.
“I can’t take the suspense anymore.” Chase stuck his hands in his hair and clutched his head in an exaggerated stance. “Just tell me already.”
The boys rushed him. Wesley gripped Chase’s arm with both of his hands. Together the pair erupted with their find. “There are snowmobiles in the garage.”
“Two.” Ben held two fingers over his head.
Nichole set another platter on the island. The hard thunk on the marble countertop drew their attention. “They might not work.”
Ben shook his head, sweeping his copper bangs across his forehead. “Dad already turned them on.”
Not the news Nichole wanted to hear. Her scowl tightened around her eyes.
Wesley’s grip on Chase’s arm flexed, then locked tighter. “It’s the best day ever. First snow zombies and now this.”
Chase looked at Nichole. Her gaze fastened on Wesley’s hold on Chase, her scowl fixed deeper on her face. He wanted to spend time with Wesley, but he refused to hurt Nichole. “There might not be enough helmets for everyone.”
Her shoulders released. She picked up her tea mug and eyed him over the rim. Gratitude in the barely noticeable dip of her chin and her muted eyes.
Wesley shook his head. “I counted nine helmets on the shelf.”
Ben bumped into Chase like a pinball stuck between the high point bumpers. “Dad says they’ll fit us fine.”
“Perfect,” Chase replied. Or not. Nichole wanted Chase to keep his distance, after all, not encourage a snowmobile jaunt, no matter how much he wanted to join them. “What if your mom has something planned for you already this afternoon?”
Nichole added several heaping teaspoons of sugar to her mug as if sweetening her drink might soften Wesley’s disappointment. How could she possibly top snowmobiles?
“Did you make plans, Mom?” A challenge dropped into Wesley’s voice as if he dared Nichole to ruin his day.
Chase disliked the idea of spoiling Wesley’s day too. Besides, moms were always forgiven. Eventually.
Worry drifted over Wesley’s face, softening his hold on Chase’s arm. “Chase, you haven’t forgotten how to drive a snowmobile, have you?”
That would be like asking if Chase had forgotten how to drive a motorcycle, ride a mountain bike or throw a football. Had he forgotten how to drive a snowmobile? Not likely. He slid a glance at Nichole, waiting for her to step in.
“He couldn’t have forgotten that fast.” Ben held up both hands as if preparing to recite one of Chase’s adventures. “It was just last winter when Chase raced on a special snowmobile track.”
Snowcross. Chase had taken part in a snowcross race thanks to several friends who had participated in the X Games and invited him to their training site. Nichole grimaced. Chase rubbed the back of his neck and kept those particular details to himself.
“That’s when Mom told me boys would be boys.” Wesley looked at Chase through his eyelashes. More color shaded his face and highlighted his voice. “Then you know what, Chase? Mom told me that I wasn’t allowed to be that kind of boy. What kind of boy are you anyway?”
The completely wrong kind for Nichole. She deserved someone who put her first. Someone who avoided risks and embraced responsibilities. He shouldn’t be pleased Nichole followed him during the off-season too. If he was a better guy, he’d take the blame now and ruin the boy’s day. He clenched his teeth together instead.
Ben giggled. “My dad said he wanted to be one of those boys.”
Brooke spun around, slapped the faucet on in the sink and picked up the soap dispenser. Suddenly determined to clean her coffee mug in record-breaking time, she let the water wash away her laughter.
Nichole picked up a dish towel and twisted it around her hands. Chase concentrated on the boys, controlling his own laughter.
“So, you can still drive a snowmobile, can’t you?” Wesley pressed.
“Yes, I can.” Chase gained control of his grin. “But we need to get your mom’s permission to go riding on one.” There, he’d given her another out.
Wesley sighed and faced his mom again. “Mom, if we promise not to be those kinds of boys, can we please go on the snowmobiles? Please.” Hope extended his plea into one long drawn-out exhale.
Nichole opened her mouth, but the back door swung open and banged against the wall.
“We’ve got gas for the snowmobiles.” Dan stepped inside, shook the snow from his hair. His smile as contagious as the kids’. Every inch of his wide frame broadcast his inner child. “Now we can have an afternoon adventure.”
The boys cheered and leaned around Chase to high-five each other. Clearly, they’d deemed one parent’s approval more than enough.
Ben hugged his dad. “When are we leaving?”
Dan rubbed his hand in Ben’s hair. “Remember what I told you.”
“After we eat a good lunch and then after I check my numbers.” Ben peeked at his dad as if making sure no other conditions remained.
Chase watched the pair. A twinge twisted in his chest. His inner kid craved adventure, accepted every challenge, yet never quite accepted his dad’s abandonment. He still craved a bond like Dan and Ben shared. Chase stuffed his hands in his pockets and slammed the door on past hurts.
“Then we really get to go?” Wesley chewed on his bottom lip. His gaze skipped over the adults, unable or unwilling to settle.
“Why don’t you change out of your snow clothes and search the house for a trail map,” Dan suggested. “It’ll make lunch time arrive quicker.”
The boys scrambled out of the kitchen. Hats, gloves and jackets dropped like a bread crumb trail on the floor and up the stairs. Ideas about which direction to ride, what they would find in the mountains and what they could take home filled the rest of the space.
Dan grinned at Chase. “Suddenly I’m anxious for lunch to be over.”
Chase’s smile was barely there. Nichole hadn’t agreed. Wesley escaped, avoiding her verdict. But Chase remained and disliked seeing her upset. Disliked even more that he’d caused her unhappiness. Wariness lowered Chase’s enthusiasm into a simmer. He glanced at Dan. “Maybe we should get more gas before we head out.”
“That’s a
really good idea.” Brooke dried her hands on Nichole’s towel and snatched her jacket from the kitchen chair. Her words tumbled out as swiftly as her sprint to the back door. “Dan and I can do that now. Right now, in fact.”
Brooke grabbed Dan’s hand, pulling him along with her to the back door in one fluid motion. Dan called out, “Text us if you need anything else—like a referee.” The door clicking shut cut off Brooke’s reprimand.
Nichole paced the kitchen, one arm crossed over her stomach, her other hand propped under her chin. Her fingers tapped a quick beat against her cheek. This was not his fault, yet guilt raced through him. Of course, he wanted to go. That was a given. Boys like him craved afternoons like this. The man in him—the one way too aware of Nichole—hesitated, wanting Nichole’s consent. Otherwise he feared he might not enjoy the afternoon. He narrowed his gaze on Nichole. What was it about her? “I won’t go.”
“Of course, you have to go.” Nichole paused, then refilled the coffeepot, as if she intended to restart the entire morning. “Did you see how excited Wesley was?”
Chase had seen. He’d experienced the same rush of excitement as the boys and even Dan. Except his joy dimmed as Nichole’s distress increased. “You could take him.”
“No. He wants you to go with him.” She rubbed her forehead, her voice bleak, her gaze sad. “I’ve already ruined too many other adventure-like moments over the years.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Chase walked to her. He wanted to hold her until her usual happiness returned. Hold her as if he could make her happy.
“I’m good at the dual parent thing. Really good.” Her gaze slipped away from him, sweeping her voice along with it. “But I’m not always enough. Or the right fit for some things.”
Chase ached. The catch in her voice caught in his chest and hooked deep. Chase took her hands, guided her closer and then fell back on all he knew: humor, light and easy. “Action adventures aren’t always much fun.”
“Tell that to Wesley.” Nichole laced her fingers around his and held on. The faintest of smiles drifted over her face. There and gone like the last spark of a sunset.
“We can tell the boys only one snowmobile works.” Chase tightened his hold and searched for an option she’d approve. “Dan can take them for a ride individually after lunch.”
Nichole squeezed his hands. “Promise me you won’t make any steep jumps or race over any moguls.”
“There aren’t any moguls out here.”
Nichole arched an eyebrow at him, revealing her no-nonsense mom expression. The one that moms for centuries had perfected to ensure obedience and respect. He had received the same look from his mom and Nonna growing up.
“I was kidding.” Chase drew her to him and locked his gaze on hers. His voice solemn like a pledge. “There won’t be any moguls or jumps or races. We won’t go over the speed limit. We’ll leave our helmets on at all times and stay on the trail only.”
“And you’ll be careful.” Nichole set her hands on his chest. “Very careful.”
“Absolutely.” Chase tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Tipped her chin up to capture her full attention. “I promise I’ll watch over Wesley.”
“Who’s going to watch over you?”
“I’ll be fine.” Her concern for him was sweet. Welcome and familiar. But he took care of himself now. “Don’t worry. This won’t be like a bonding thing between Wesley and me.”
“You already connected over your zombie land.” She dropped her forehead on his shoulder. “It’s too late.” Her voice sounded hopeless.
“We won’t connect anymore.” Same as he wouldn’t kiss Nichole anymore either. Or learn any more of her secrets.
She straightened and frowned at him. “How do you intend to do that?”
“We can’t talk much with helmets on.” Chase pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It’ll be about the ride.”
The same as their relationship. He’d pretend he hadn’t forgotten this was all fake. A sham. He’d pretend being with Nichole and Wesley was nothing he wanted. “Besides, tomorrow they’ll discover something even cooler than snowmobiles. Then today will be forgotten.”
“You believe that?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” he said. “For boys like them every day is about outdoing yesterday.” He knew because he was one of those boys. Except when it came to Nichole. He just wanted to be with Nichole every day. That would be more than enough.
Chase released her and stepped back. He needed to walk away and remember what Nichole wanted. And that wasn’t him long-term. “I’m going to go change and put on dry clothes.”
And he’d keep adding layers until he’d buried everything he truly wanted.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHASE PARKED THE SNOWMOBILE, slid off his helmet and checked his cell phone. Still no bars or signal reception. He ran his gloved hand through his hair and frowned at the sky. Every tree looked the same: barren, snow covered and dreary. Every trail turn appeared the same as the last. The clouds seemed to have stalled in the sky, offering the same view in all directions. Nature wasn’t to blame for their situation. Rather, the fault belonged to Chase’s poor map reading skills. He’d convinced himself he’d conquered maps. Clearly, he’d lied to himself. “I think we should’ve turned left, not right, back there.”
“So, this isn’t a shortcut?” Wesley slipped off the back of the snowmobile and scooped up a handful of snow.
“Definitely not a shortcut.” Chase set his helmet on the handlebars and stretched his legs.
“Then we should’ve turned left three turns back, then made two rights.” Wesley rubbed his gloved hand under his nose and launched his snowball across the trail. “I thought you knew a shortcut so we could beat Dan and Ben back to the house.”
At this rate, they’d be lucky to beat the sunset home. Dan and Ben were most likely already off the mountain, sipping hot chocolate and relishing their win. The foursome had bet on which of two trails back to the château was faster. The winner got to pick the movie to watch later that night. The losers were on dinner cleanup duty and required to make sure the popcorn bowl never went empty. “I shouldn’t be trusted with a map.”
“That’s okay.” Wesley formed another snowball. “Mom says I shouldn’t be trusted with white clothes or nice new things.”
Chase watched Wesley. The kid tossed his snowball aside, stripped off his glove and stuck his bare finger into the snowdrift as if testing the bath water temperature. No distress wrinkled his face. No fear shadowed him. Chase asked, “You’re really okay that we’re lost on this mountain?”
“Not lost. Just turned around.” Wesley crammed his hand back inside his glove and took the map from Chase. “We just need to backtrack our steps to get to the original trail.”
“You’re sure it’s that easy?” Chase willed it to be that easy. But he’d gotten lost before and had spent hours fixing his mistakes. But he’d never been lost with a child. One he’d vowed to protect.
“Sure.” Wesley shrugged. “I do it all the time to find whatever I’ve lost.”
“Do you lose things often?” Chase formed a snowball. He liked Wesley—liked his honesty and openness.
“I lose things more than Mom likes.” Wesley studied the map, glanced at the trees and then the trail. “She’s always telling me to pay more attention.” He paused and pitched his voice higher. “‘Respect your things, Wesley. Take more pride in your appearance, Wesley. Use a napkin, not your jeans, Wesley.’”
“My mom still tells me to sit up straight,” Chase said, and earned a laugh from Wesley. “And my nonna tells me to eat more vegetables and get off my phone at least once a week.”
“My great-gramma just cooks lots of cookies and pies for me.” Wesley laughed louder. “My great-gramma never gives me any lectures. She tells me that’s my mom’s job.”
Wesley was better behaved than Chase had ever been. “I started cooking with my nonna when I was your age. She taught me how to garden too.”
“Cool.” Wesley smiled over the map, and his eyes sparked. “Can she teach me to cook too? Mom’s great at everything except cooking.”
Chase rolled his snowball away and rubbed his chest. He’d never considered having a child who Nonna could teach to cook too. He liked the idea a lot. “We’d have to ask her. But first we need to get home.” Before Nichole sent out a search party and banned him from ever taking Wesley on another outing again.
Wesley traced his finger over the map. Chase suggested hand signals for when Wesley needed to tell him which way to turn. Hand signals learned and memorized, Wesley slapped his helmet over his head and climbed on the snowmobile behind Chase. Two miles and several turns later, Chase stopped the snowmobile in a small clearing and willed his panic to stand down. “Anything look familiar?”
“Those are the tracks we made earlier.” Wesley pointed toward the tree line.
Chase squinted at the trail, unsure if those were the tracks they’d made on the wrong trail. He leaned forward, followed the direction Wesley pointed and noticed the second set of tracks. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve had years of practice.” Wesley’s tone sounded wisdom-aged as if he’d lived eight decades, not one.
Chase laughed and checked his phone for service. Barely half a bar lit the top corner of his phone screen. Every mile should take them closer to a cell tower and service. Then he’d open his map app and let the satellites guide them home.
Wesley set his hand on Chase’s arm, drawing his attention away from his phone. He whispered, “Do you hear that?”
“The bears are sleeping,” Chase murmured, and glanced around the clearing. “Are they snoring?”
Wesley giggled and slid off the snowmobile. “Not bears. It sounds like crying.”
Her Surprise Engagement Page 16
