“I’m glad he did, too.” Rylie’s grateful gaze fell on Chase’s face. “If he hadn’t, I don’t think Mickey—”
She got choked up, looked away, and swallowed hard before turning back to them. It took everything in Chase not to go to her, pull her into his arms, and comfort her. If he put his hands on her, Chase didn’t think he’d let go until he’d gotten her into his bed, and they were both thoroughly sated. He shook the thought from his mind as she regained her composure and continued. “Again, I’m sorry we disturbed you. We’ll let you get back to work.”
Mickey was peering around the desk at the oversized pit bull who hadn’t made another effort to stand. “What’s his name?”
“Meat,” Ian responded. “I have no idea how he got it, but it sorta fits him. Would you like to pet him?” When she nodded, he squatted next to the dog. The changes in Ian, since his wife had recently given birth to an adorable little girl, still amazed Chase. The hardened, retired Navy SEAL had become a total softie when it came to children. Not that he hadn’t been kind to rug rats before, but there was a serenity in his expression, now, when he interacted with them that’d never been there before. “Come over here and hold out your hand, so he can make sure you’re a good person first.” He narrowed his eyes at her in a teasing manner. “You are a good person, right?”
After nodding, Mickey did as instructed and giggled when Meat sniffed and snorted then licked her fingers. She petted his big head, and the dog groaned in ecstasy. It didn’t take much these days to garner that response from him. He’d gone from being rescued from a dog-fighting ring to being spoiled rotten by Tuff, Chet, and the staff at BHS. Meat was definitely living the high life now.
“He’s so sweet! I wish we had a dog.”
Chase had been ogling Rylie, something he tried to remind himself he shouldn’t be doing, when her daughter had spoken wistfully, and he noticed the slight wince that flashed across her face. From what he’d figured out at the tea party, Mickey had been making a case for getting a dog quite often lately, but since no one was home most of the day during the week, Rylie had nixed the idea. At least Mickey had access to Aubrey’s dog, Peanut.
Chase’s gaze roamed Rylie’s body without conscious thought. She was wearing a white, V-neck T-shirt, which clung to her breasts enticingly, navy-blue capris, and sandals. Despite the present company, Chase was slowly stripping her naked in his mind. She had curves that made his mouth water and his cock swell.
A throat clearing again had him tearing his gaze away from Rylie’s covered pussy to meet Ian’s amused expression. The bastard was smirking smugly as if he knew exactly where Chase’s thoughts had gone. A quick glance at Rylie’s face had him sighing inwardly with relief—she was watching her daughter and, apparently, didn’t have the same insight into Chase’s dirty mind as his friend did.
Rylie held her hand out to Mickey. “C’mon, sweetie. We don’t want to be late for your dentist appointment.”
The chagrin on the little girl’s face, over the fact she had to leave her new, furry friend, and her loud sigh had all three adults grinning. She really was a cute kid.
“Okay,” Mickey said as she gave the dog one last pat on his head. “Goodbye, Meat. I hope I get to see you again.”
“Well, he hangs out here a lot, if you ever want to stop by again to see him.”
Chase fought the urge to throat punch his friend. Damn Sawyer was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong and was playing matchmaker. Chase would have to wait to kill him until after Mickey and Rylie left.
Mickey took her mother’s outstretched hand, then pivoted to look at Chase. “Do you wanna come to my Irish stepdance recital Friday? Not this Friday but next week.”
“Oh, honey,” Rylie said quickly. “I’m sure Chase has other plans and can’t—”
“I’d love to come,” he interrupted. God, he was getting in deep. “What time?”
She gaped at him as Mickey grinned. “Yay! It’s at seven, but Mom and I have to be there at six thirty.”
In Rylie’s eyes he saw a combination of disbelief, wariness, and lust. It was an interesting mix—one he wanted to explore. “You really don’t have to come, Chase. I mean, you must be busy.”
“Well, it just so happens I’m free next Friday.” He didn’t know that for certain until he checked his calendar, but he’d move heaven and earth to clear his agenda. “So, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to go. Maybe we can grab some ice cream or something afterward if it’s not too late.”
“Please, Mom!”
Rylie glanced from Chase to her daughter and back to him again. “If you really want to come, you’re more than welcome. I’ll text you the address when I get home.”
“Perfect.”
“Um—all right. We’ll see you next Friday then.”
Smiling, he escorted them to the door and said goodbye. When he returned to his desk, Ian was smirking at him. Before the bastard could say anything, Chase pulled his gun from the small of his back and set it on the desk, with the safety on and the muzzle pointed at one of the heavily insulated walls. “One word, and I’ll shoot you in the ass.”
In amusement, Ian pulled his own gun out and also placed it on the desk in a similar fashion. “Mine’s bigger than yours. Everything of mine is bigger than yours.” He sat in the chair and put one ankle over the opposite knee. “So . . . she’s pretty cute.” His grin grew. “The little girl is adorable too.”
“Jackass.” Chase took his seat again. “Just because you’ve got Angie and PMS now, doesn’t mean you need to play matchmaker. Stay out of it.”
His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head to the side. “PMS?”
It was Chase’s turn to smirk. “Tell me you didn’t realize your daughter’s initials are PMS.” He never would say that if Ian’s wife were around, nor would he tease the man’s daughter as she got older. But Ian? Yeah, he was fair game.
“Peyton Marie Saw . . .” The retired SEAL’s head fell backward. “Aw, fuck! Why didn’t anyone fucking point that out before now?”
“I’m surprised Egghead and Polo haven’t already.”
“Shit, don’t ever say that in front of Angie. Peyton was my choice, and it was Angie’s idea to give her my mom’s name for her middle name. Now, I’m going to have to teach her how to kick any little shit’s ass who teases her about that.”
“Like you weren’t going to teach her how to kick ass, anyway.”
A frustrated breath burst from Ian. “True. As soon as she can fucking walk. Shit.” He thrust his hands through his hair, then ran them down his face. “Anyway, getting back on topic, the girl obviously likes you, and from the looks Rylie was giving you, she’s as interested in you as you are in her.” Ian shrugged. “You’re not getting any younger, dude. See where it goes.”
Chase’s gaze landed on the closed door leading to the reception area. He really shouldn’t “see where it goes,” but the temptation was hard to ignore. Maybe it was fate that’d matched him with Mickey . . . in more ways than one.
Chapter Five
Rylie stood at the back of Mickey’s elementary school’s auditorium, nibbling on her thumbnail, while parents, grandparents, and siblings of the dancers strolled in to look for seats. Aubrey was already in the second row, saving spots for her and Chase, but Rylie was too nervous to sit at the moment. The recital didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, and she hoped Chase would arrive before then. Mickey had been so excited ever since her hero had accepted the invitation to attend tonight. He’d texted Rylie a few hours ago to confirm he’d be there.
She hadn’t seen him since they’d had brought the cookies to him last week, but he’d called a few times to chat with Mickey. Each time, Rylie had ended up spending several minutes talking to him too. He’d ask how her day had gone and then found something else to talk about before she handed the phone over to Mickey. Her daughter would chitter-chatter away, telling Chase all about school, her dance lessons, and everything else under the sun. The man must have the pa
tience of a saint because he never seemed to rush to end the call.
Those brief contacts with him all week had increased Rylie’s desire to see him again. She would never admit to anyone that she’d googled him a few times during the week, just to drool over the few images of him that were available on the web. The man was panty-dropping eye candy, and Rylie had daydreams of licking him all over.
While the dance studio was two blocks away, it wasn’t large enough for all the family members who wanted to attend. The principal was friends with the woman who taught the Irish stepdance classes and had offered the use of the auditorium for the recital, since many of the dancers were students or former students of the school. Tonight’s performance was a dress rehearsal of sorts for a competition the dance troupe was entering next month in Orlando against others from across the state of Florida. Their ages ranged from five years old to seventeen.
“Hey, Rylie.”
She spun around to see her friends, Maggie Ambrose and Ana Tatupu approaching her. Ana’s husband, Keoni, otherwise known as Ken, was a few steps behind them and stopped to talk to another student’s father. Maggie’s daughter, Keira, was the same age as Mickey, while Ana’s little girl, Loni, was a grade behind the others.
“Hi, how are you?” she asked as she gave both women a kiss on the cheek.
“Good,” Maggie responded before her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? You look nervous. Mickey will do just fine. It’s not like this is her first recital.”
Rylie forced her tense shoulders to relax. “It’s not that. It’s—”
Her breath caught in her throat as she spotted Chase striding in like he owned the place. Oh, God, he got more handsome every time she saw him. There was a five-o’clock shadow along his jawline, and it was just as sexy as she’d imagined it would be. He was wearing a white polo shirt, which showed off his tanned face, neck, and muscular arms, and navy-blue Dockers. His eyes seemed greener than she remembered as he scanned the crowd. People stepped out of his way, like the parting of the Red Sea, and at least a dozen women were practically drooling over him as he walked by them, whether they were married or not.
“Who is that?” Maggie asked, with clear interest in her tone, as Chase’s gaze landed on Rylie and he headed in their direction.
Jealousy flashed through Rylie, and she quelled the urge to shout, “Mine.” But Chase wasn’t hers. Hell, he wasn’t even interested in her. The only reason he was there was because Mickey had invited him. “That’s Chase, the man who donated his bone marrow to Mickey. We finally got to meet him last week, and Mickey asked him to come tonight. He was nice enough to say yes.”
“Damn, girl.” Ana bumped her shoulder against Rylie’s. “If you don’t tap that, you’re crazy.”
Rylie gave her friend a hip check as Chase approached. “Shh.” The last thing she needed was for her friends to try to play matchmaker with a man who was out of her league. She waved at him as he drew closer. “Hi, Chase.”
The smile he hit her with had her panties dampening. When had she started to think dimples on a man’s cheeks were sexy as hell?
He stopped in front of her, and his cologne did things to her libido she tried to ignore. “Hello, ladies.”
Although he’d addressed the three of them, his gaze remained on Rylie, mesmerizing her. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been ogling him until Maggie cleared her throat. “Hi, I’m Maggie Ambrose.”
She held out her hand, which he shook. “Chase Dixon.”
“And I’m Ana Tatupu.” She also greeted him with a handshake. “We’re Rylie’s friends. She’s single, you know.”
“Very single,” Maggie added.
Oh. My. God. She was going to kill her so-called friends. Her cheeks burned, and she suddenly found a piece of lint on the floor’s industrial carpeting extremely interesting.
Chase chuckled. “Very single, huh? That’s good to know.” He winked at her.
Shaking her head, Rylie closed her eyes and willed a hole to open under her feet and swallow her. “Please ignore my friends. They don’t know when to keep their big mouths shut.”
In the auditorium’s orchestra pit, the band’s conductor announced over the sound system, “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The show is about to start.”
Thank God, Rylie thought. She’d been spared further embarrassment. Somehow, she found the courage to look Chase in the eye again. “Aubrey is saving us seats down front.”
“Lead the way. Ladies, it was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too,” they said in unison.
Weaving through the crowd searching for the best available seating, Rylie ushered Chase down to the second row. Aubrey was sitting in the third theater-styled seat, leaving the first two for Rylie and Chase. She snatched her purse from where it’d been used as a place holder on the first seat. “Hi, Chase.”
He gestured for Rylie to take the spot next to her friend, putting himself on the end. “Aubrey, nice to see you again. No camera tonight?”
“Nope. I’m here strictly as an observer. They have a photographer and videographer filming the show and asked the audience to refrain from taking pictures because the flashes will distract the dancers.”
“Makes sense.” He leaned closer to Rylie and whispered, “By the way, you look beautiful tonight. I must admit I’m surprised to hear you’re very single. The men you know must be taken, gay, or blind.”
Rylie gulped, stunned by his compliment. His breath had tickled her ear, sending goose bumps skittering across her body. She didn’t know what to say in response and was saved once again when the dance teacher walked onto the stage to make her opening remarks and to thank everyone for attending. After the announcements, she gestured to the closed curtain. “Let the show begin!”
Celtic music erupted from the orchestra pit and the curtain rose steadily, revealing three young girls, around twelve years old, wearing elaborate, traditional, Irish stepdance dresses, wigs, poodle socks, and tap shoes. Clicks, clunks, and stomps punctuated the rapid movement of their feet. Soon, three more girls joined in. Then six more, including Mickey and Keira, made their entrances, followed by two boys in black dress pants and white, button-down shirts.
Rylie quietly pointed out her daughter to Chase, who leaned over again to whisper, “Thanks. Almost didn’t recognize her with that big hair.”
The first time Rylie had seen Mickey in the wig with its massive curls that matched her real hair color, she’d had the same reaction. She smiled as she watched her little girl dance her heart out, and as these moments often had, it reminded her just how close she’d come to losing Mickey. If not for the generosity of the man sitting beside Rylie, making her hormones a jumbled mess, the past year might have turned out much differently. Thank God for Chase Dixon.
“Chase, you came!” Mickey ran into his arms when he squatted down to catch her in a hug. He, Rylie, and Aubrey had joined the throngs of attendees in front of the school waiting for the dancers to come out. The show had been an hour-long, kid’s version of Riverdance. Chase had been blown away by the talent on the stage and in the orchestra pit. Before the show had started, he’d thought he might have gotten bored after a while, but the dancers had been thoroughly entertaining. They were going to kick ass at the competition in a few months Rylie had told him about. He’d have to clear his schedule to make sure he could attend. He wondered if he needed to buy a ticket or something. He’d have Shannon look into it tomorrow, so he could surprise Mickey by showing up.
“Of course I did. You were fantastic!” Maybe he was biased, but she’d been one of the best dancers up there.
She kissed his cheek then pulled back to beam at him. “Thank you. It was so much fun, and I didn’t miss a single step.”
“You were great, sweetheart,” Rylie said, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder. “Want me to help you take the wig off?”
“Yes, please.” She turned her back toward her mother. Rylie pulled a few bobby pins from the blonde curls then undid a s
trap underneath before sliding the wig from Mickey’s head. The little girl ran her hands through her real hair, fluffing it up a bit.
Glancing at his watch, Chase noted the time. It was still early, and it wasn’t a school night. “How does a trip to the ice cream parlor sound?”
Mickey’s face lit up. “Yay!”
His gaze met Rylie’s, and he was happy to see she was also smiling. “Some Rocky Road sounds great.”
“Aubrey?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’ve got to decline this time. I have a lot of photo editing to do by tomorrow afternoon. Y’all go have fun.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“Nope, I drove my car because Rylie needed to get Mickey here early. It was great seeing you again, Chase. Give me a hug, Mickey.”
Five minutes later, Rylie was in the passenger seat of Chase’s vehicle with Mickey in the back seat, chatting away. They’d left Rylie’s SUV at the school, so they didn’t have to take two vehicles. Tonight, Chase hadn’t brought the Chevy Silverado pickup truck he’d driven to the photo shoot in. Instead, they were riding in style in his fully loaded, white BMW 5 Series. It was one of five vehicles he owned. Each one was vastly different from the others, and he rotated them according to his destination and company. If he’d been on a date with just Rylie, he would’ve driven his restored 1967 Alfa Romeo 1600 Spider. The two-seater, manual-transmission convertible was his favorite. Rounding out the rest of the vehicles he owned were a Jeep Grand Cherokee and a royal-blue, 1946 Indian Chief motorcycle, which he loved to take out for long rides whenever he needed to clear his head about anything. While his home was modest, Chase had splurged on a few things with the money he’d made from BHS. In addition to his vehicles, he’d also bought a boat that slept six people that he took out at least once a month with friends for a day of fishing and relaxing.
Blood Bound (Blackhawk Security Book 2) Page 3
