by Rye Hart
“This is Mary,” I said. “She's friendly.”
Abby walked over to Mary and stroked her soft muzzle. The mare leaned into Abby's hand, and even I had to appreciate the moment. Abby scratched between Mary's ears, and unable to stop myself, I grabbed a carrot for her.
“Here, feed her this and she'll love you forever,” I said.
Abby took the carrot and held it out to the horse, holding it by the greens. Mary munched on it, her big teeth chomping away and bringing a squeal of delight from Abby. An unexpected smile curled at my lips as I watched the horse eating the carrot from Abby's hand.
“This is so awesome,” she said. “I love her.”
“Looks like she's fond of you too,” I said.
Once the carrot was gone, Abby turned to me with a grin. Her hair was all over her face, windblown and messy, but she was smiling so brightly, nothing else mattered in that moment. It felt like someone had hit me hard in the chest, and all the air whooshed right out of me. Her blue eyes were locked on mine, and nothing could make me stop smiling right then.
“Thank you, Chase,” she said. “I was just heading into town to grab a bite to eat. Maybe you'd like to join me?”
I cringed. There it was. She was asking me out to dinner. A date.
“I, umm,” I stammered, removing my hat and scratching my head. “I really don't think that's a good idea.”
“Why not?” she asked, cocking her head to the side like an adorable little puppy.
“Well, for one thing, your shorts are – ”
Abby's eyes grew wide, as if she just now remembered her little mishap on the fence. Her hands grabbed at the hole in her shorts and her cheeks flushed bright with color.
“You're right. Dammit,” she said. “I need to go all the way back home and change before I go into town.”
That would be one hell of a walk.
“Come on,” I said, closing the stable.
“What are you talking about?”
“I'm going to run you home, then take you into town for some dinner,” I said.
“Really?” she asked. “Honestly, Chase, you don't have to.”
She was giving me an out, but I could hear in her voice that she was happy about the idea of having dinner together. Maybe a little too happy.
It's not a date, Chase. You just don't want the girl walking around by herself. Yeah, that's it. I was just doing her a favor. Besides, I'd planned to go into town for some food anyway. Might as well help Abby out while I was at it. Right?
I drove Abby back over to her place and waited in the truck while she rushed in to change. Staring at Cody's old house brought back memories. Too many memories. Enough memories that I didn't want to go inside and experience the worst of them. Cody used to be my friend, one of few I'd had since moving here after leaving the Corps. Losing him had been the final nail in the coffin for me.
Abby ran out of the house, slamming the door behind her. Instead of short-shorts, she came out wearing a dark gray skirt that billowed around her hips, and a pink lace top that hugged her curves in all the right places. A white tank top was the only thing preventing her boobs from showing through the lace, and as I sat there and watched her jog toward the truck, my cock began to grow rigid, pressing against my jeans.
Fuck, me. She was gorgeous.
Her honey blonde hair was brushed now and pulled back into a side braid that fell over her right shoulder. Tendrils fell loose around her soft, perfectly oval face. She hopped in the truck, grinning from ear-to-ear and my cock was so hard, I had to subtly adjust in my seat.
“Where to?” she asked.
“Well, we don't really have that many options,” I said, pulling out of her gravel driveway. “Figured we'd just go to the diner in town.”
“Greasy fried food and lots of bacon?” she asked.
I stifled a laugh. “You betcha.”
“Sounds like my kind of place.”
I cocked an eyebrow and looked over at her. “I thought you'd be one of those healthy, granola eating types.”
“Because I came from San Francisco? Seriously?” she asked, shaking her head. “Way to stereotype, Chase.”
“So, you don't eat granola?”
“Sometimes. But I prefer bacon,” she said with a chuckle. “Not all Californians are hippies, you know.”
“Learn something new every day,” I said.
“Uh huh,” she said. “So, tell me, Chase, why do you hate Californians so much?”
“I don't hate nobody,” I shrugged. “They're just usually not my type of people.”
“Who are your types of people then?” she asked, leaning back against the headrest of my truck, just staring at me with impossibly big, blue eyes.
“No one, really,” I said. “Like I've told you a thousand times already, I mostly tend to keep to myself.”
“Tell me something I didn't know,” she laughed.
A smile pulled at my lips, but I pushed it away before it made it to my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was to keep encouraging the girl. Abby continued tormenting me, peppering me with her seemingly never-ending supply of questions though.
“Why are you so bound and determined to remain alone and miserable?” she asked.
My grip tightened on the steering wheel. I stared straight out at the road, every muscle in my neck and shoulders tensed to the max. One question too many – a question I had no desire to answer. Especially not to a woman I'd only just met the day before.
“It's none of your business,” I muttered, a little more harshly than I’d intended.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to – ” she stammered. “Shit. I keep saying the wrong thing, asking too many personal questions. You're just the first friendly face I met since I moved here.”
“I'm not that friendly,” I chuckled.
She studied me for a long time, a serious look on her pretty face. “I know you're a good person,” she said. “I can see it. I can tell.”
“You can, huh?” I asked skeptically. “You figured all that out just from the little bit of talking we've done?”
“No, I just know. You're a Marine – just like my daddy was,” she said. “I know you guys tend to be a little rough around the edges, but to serve your country, you have to have a good heart.”
I stared at her. “How did you know I was a Marine?”
“Your tattoo,” she said, reaching over and lifting my sleeve. “Semper Fi. I know a Marine tat when I see one.”
Her hand touched my arm, and there was a warmth I hadn't expected in her touch. She didn't hurry and pull away, and surprisingly, I didn't push her hand away either. She traced the words on my arm, as if remembering something from her past.
There was sadness in her eyes, and for a moment, she seemed to be somewhere else entirely.
“Abby?”
She dropped her hand. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about my dad again.”
Tears filled her eyes as we pulled up in front of the diner. I stopped the truck but didn't rush to get out. Instead, I turned and looked into her eyes.
“What happened to him?” I asked softly.
“He died when I was nineteen. So did my mom,” she said softly. “Car accident. That's the reason I hate driving.”
Tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks before she could stop them. She wiped at them with her arm, but it was too late. There were just too many tears now, and they kept flowing
“I'm sorry,” she said, sniffling and continuing to wipe away the tears. “I get a little emotional still. It's only been a few years since I lost them, and I – I feel so lonely. Lost without them.”
“I'm sorry, Abby,” I said softly.
I wasn't sure what to say or do. I hardly knew the girl but seeing her in tears while she sat right next to me made my stomach roil. I wanted to make the tears stop falling, to tell her everything would be okay, but we both knew it wouldn't be. Nothing would ever be okay again. Not when you lose everyone you love so dearly.
I knew
, firsthand, how difficult it was. I also knew how empty platitudes did nothing to wash away that pain. I offered my hand to her, but she shook her head, continuing to wipe the tears away. She even managed a soft, sweet smile, her way of telling me she was okay.
Even though we both knew it was a lie.
CHAPTER FOUR
ABBY
“And then, my daddy told me I could never eat cherry sno-cones again, at least until I learned how not to make it look like I was a vampire,” I laughed, slurping the rest of my Cherry Coke.
Mentioning my father had been hard, at first. But, once I started sharing the stories from my childhood, I couldn't stop. Chase just sat there and stared at me, an almost startled look on his face. He'd finished his chicken fried steak, and I was now done with my dinner too.
I'd done most of the talking while we ate, and he just silently listened to me ramble on. He seemed content to listen though – well, except that maybe the story about my dad almost rushing me to the hospital because it looked like I'd been feeding off the dead had been a little too much for him.
“Sorry, I sometimes talk way too much for my own good,” I said, reaching for my bag.
“No, no, it's fine,” he said as he reached for his wallet. “And put that way. I got this.”
A smile pulled at my lips, but I shook my head, “No way, cowboy. I keep dragging you out of your comfort zone. At least let me pay for my own food. You've done enough for me already.”
The waitress came over to our table with the check, and Chase grabbed it from her hand before I could stop him. I tried to argue, but he'd already passed on his debit card to the woman before I could do anything about it.
“Seriously, I owe you big time,” I said. “Let me buy you a drink, at least?”
He scratched his beard and studied me for a long time. He hadn't answered me by the time the waitress returned with his card, so I asked again.
“Let me buy you a drink, Chase,” I said. “It's the least I can do.”
“You don't have to do anything,” he said. “It's just who I am. I'm not going to make a little girl walk into town – ”
“I'm not a little girl, Chase,” I said. “I'm a grown woman.”
“Alright, I'm not going to make a grown woman walk into town by herself if I can help it,” he said. “And a man always picks up the check. It's just how things are done.”
“A little old-fashioned, don't you think?”
“It's who I am,” he said.
“Yeah, well – I'm thinking about getting a drink anyway,” I said. “Care to join me?”
Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I just felt bad for using Chase for rides into town and now for a free meal. Whatever the reason, I really wanted him to join me. I wasn't used to being by myself all day, every day. I didn't have a single friend in this pitiful excuse for a town and it sucked. Chase was the first friendly – or at least, semi-friendly – face that I'd met since I got here, when he wasn’t telling me how much he liked being left alone.
Not to mention, he wasn't too bad on the eyes either. Not that I needed a rebound, it had only been a few weeks since I'd ended things with Paul, after all. But, if I were in the market for one, Chase would have been prime picking.
He was the exact opposite of my ex in every way; built and strong, a chiseled jaw and face with soft, brown eyes. Not to mention that sweet Texas drawl that just about soaked my panties whenever I heard it.
“Fine,” he said after a while. “But only one drink, and only because I don't want you walking home by yourself drunk.”
“Sure,” I laughed.
I grabbed my purse and, together, we walked out of the restaurant. I followed Chase since he knew this town better than I did. He walked me across the street to a bar that looked like it was about the size of my dorm room back in college.
He swung the door open and country music spilled out – because, of course it did. Chase held the door open for me, and I resisted giving him the lecture about how I could hold open my own doors. He was merely being nice, and there was no reason to jump down his throat for an old-fashioned belief system. For all I knew, he'd have held the door open for anyone, not just a woman, which was the polite thing to do.
Chase took a seat at the bar and I sat down beside him. The place was nearly empty, but there were a few guys at the other end of the bar slamming back beers with a glassy look in their eyes. They'd been here a while, obviously.
The bartender was a woman with gray hair pulled back in a loose braid down her back. Her face was wrinkled with age, but there was a soft smile and gentle eyes that were absolutely beautiful. She must have been a stunner back in her younger years. Hell, she still was a stunner for a woman old enough to be my grandmother.
“Long time, no see, stranger,” she said, winking at Chase.
“Hey, Patsy,” he replied. “Meet Abby. She's new in town.”
Patsy's eyes drifted over me and her smile grew even wider. “Nice to meet you, Abby,” she said.
“Nice to meet you too,” I said, offering her my hand.
She shook it, giving my hand a nice, tight grip. She gave Chase an inscrutable look, some silent communication passing between them, and I saw what I took to be color rising in his cheeks.
“The usual for you, Chase?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said.
“And you, pretty lady?” she asked, turning to me.
“Whatever he's having,” I said weakly.
She cocked an eyebrow at me, then turned to Chase.
“You heard the woman,” Chase said, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “She'll have what I'm having.”
“Alright then,” Patsy said. “Coming right up.”
She grabbed a bottle from underneath the counter, set a couple of glasses down in front of her, and poured. She added just a tiny bit of ice and slid the glasses across the bar to us. Whatever it was, it was straight.
“What do we have here?” I asked.
I raised the glass to my nose and took a whiff of it. The alcohol burned my nostrils, and even though I tried not to, I crinkled my face up in disgust as I sat the glass down.
“Whiskey. Straight. Just a little ice,” Patsy said.
She had her hands on her hips and watched me, an amused look etched on her face.
“Whiskey, huh,” I said. “Can't say I've ever tried it.”
“Would have surprised me if you had,” Chase said.
“Hey, we have whiskey in San Francisco,” I countered, but he was smiling at me, clearly trying to get a rise from me. It worked. “Fine, a toast then.”
“A toast to what?”
“To my new life in Texas and to trying new things,” I said, clinking my glass to Chase's.
We both took a drink from our glasses. Chase took a long swallow before putting the glass down. I'd barely taken a sip, the alcohol burning as it moved down my throat. I felt it sliding all the way down my esophagus, then traveling all the way to my stomach. It burned like hell, but I wasn't about to show any signs of weakness, so I feigned a smile.
“Delicious,” I lied, feeling the tears welling in my eyes.
Chase continued watching me, taking another big pull from his glass. I didn't reach for a second drink. Maybe this wasn't the start of a love affair with whiskey, but at least I could say that I'd tried it.
“Here, let me get you something else,” Patsy said. “On the house, darlin'.”
“No, that's fine,” I argued.
Chase reached for my glass and pulled it over to him. I knew my act had failed. They weren't buying it.
“Fine,” I laughed. “I'll just have a beer.”
“You know we don't serve any of that fancy IPA bullshit here, right?” Patsy said, amusement coloring her tone. “We drink real beer here in the country, not what you city folk are used to.”
“That's okay. Give me whatever you got,” I said.
I sounded less confident than when I'd ordered the whiskey, but hey, at least with beer, it wouldn't
burn so much going down. Patsy, however, got to work on something else and put it down in front of me. I looked at it like it was a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike, as apprehension filled my gut. Patsy and Chase both looked at me, a mischievous glint in their eyes.
“It's a Whiskey Sour,” Patsy said. “Go on, try it.”
Whiskey in the name didn't make me feel entirely confident, but I put the glass to my lips to show them I wasn't afraid – even though I really was. Tentatively, I took a sip and was met with a sour, lemony flavor and just a hint of sweetness. With wide eyes, I smiled.
“This is actually really good,” I said, hearing the shock even in my own voice.
Patsy gave me a knowing smile. “The lemon counteracts the whiskey, while the sugar tones down the lemon just a tad.”
“It's actually really refreshing,” I said. “I'm – shocked.”
Patsy winked and went to fill up the drinks for the guys at the end. Chase was on his second glass of whiskey – the leftovers of my glass.
“So much for just one drink,” I said.
“Couldn't let good whiskey go to waste,” he said. “That's almost a crime around here.”
I stared at Chase long and hard, his chiseled features softening. He stared down at the glass in his hand, a longing in his eyes I'd not seen in him before. Maybe the alcohol was making him emotional, or perhaps there was a memory here he was reliving. Whatever it was, it made me sad to see it.
An upbeat country song came on and a few women were out on the dance floor, shaking their drunken asses and having some fun. Hating to see Chase all mopey and blue, I grabbed his hand and pulled him off his seat.
“Come on,” I said.
“Where are we going?” he asked, looking a bit startled.
“To dance, silly,” I said.
Chase pulled his hand from mine and returned to the bar, clutching the remnants of the glass of whisky like it was a life preserver and we were out in the middle of the ocean.
“Nope,” he said stubbornly. “I don't dance, Abby.”
“You don't dance?” I exclaimed. “Not even with me?”
