“That’s just how I am, baby.”
She laughs and takes another drink of coffee. “Why did you leave?”
“It’s a long story,” I say softly. “And you’re already running late.”
“I am? Shit. I didn’t feed the cats yet.”
“I’ll get it. I’m slowly trying to win them over anyway.”
Sierra chuckles. “I think you already are.”
* * *
“Whoever said no news is good news is a fucking cunt,” Jax huffs, pacing in front of the large window that overlooks the river. “I knew Mason was a useless twat. Fucking unreliable piece of shit.”
I sit back, waiting for Jax to end his rant. This is what he does when he’s pissed, and it’s best to stay out of his way and let the obscenities flow. Though this time, I want to join in with him.
“I said I wanted to stay out of it. Keep my hands clean.” Jax balls his fingers into fists. He whips around to face me. “Once you’re healed and your guts won’t spill out, I say we get out of here and get there first. Beat them at their own game. I can get the paperwork by then too. Show everyone what fucking loser cocksuckers they are.”
There was a time in my life, not long ago in fact, that I would have jumped at the chance to right a wrong and to bring not just one, but two, assholes to justice. I jumped because it didn’t matter where I landed or if I stuck the landing. I had nothing. No one. I lived my life for me, and it wasn’t until I met Sierra that I realized how fucking lonely I was.
“I think I’m done with that shit,” I tell him.
Jax falls silent. He blinks, slowly shaking his head. “So you’re going to stay here and fucking bartend the rest of your life?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, but I’m not leaving Sierra.”
“You’re in love with her.”
“I am,” I admit right away.
Jax looks out the window, and I expect him to let out another string of swear words. Instead he smiles. “I never thought I’d see the day when Chase fucking Henson is pussy-whipped this hard.”
“It’s good pussy.”
“Jesus fuck, man. I’m happy for you. She’s a good woman.”
“She is.” I press my hand to my stomach, putting a bit of pressure on the incision site when I sit. If I’d gone to the hospital earlier, the surgery would have been simpler with less healing time. Screw up and learn shit, right? Next time I’m sick, I’ll listen to Sierra from the start. “Are you leaving then?”
“Yeah. I’ll get ahold of Mason and start the paper trail. I’ll be out of here in a few days.”
Jax and I have parted ways many times over the years. It was never more than a ‘see ya later’ because we’d always meet up for another job in a matter of time. This time is different. I’m not going to take another job with him. I’m done with that shit, and while a big part of me is relieved, it’s affecting me more than I thought it would knowing we might never see each other again.
“You better invite me to your wedding,” Jax heckles as if he can read my fucking mind.
“You’d be the best man.”
Jax grins. “That means I can plan a bachelor party in Vegas.”
“Definitely.”
* * *
“Don’t forget you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” Sierra tells me that night during dinner. I tried cooking for her for the first time, and things turned out halfway decent. Granted, it’s just spaghetti, and the meatballs were frozen and only had to be heated in the oven. But the sauce is homemade. Kind of. I used canned tomatoes instead of fresh because that’s all Sierra had.
“I remember, and I don’t need to go. I make it one more week and I’m in the clear to do whatever I want again. Besides working out.” Sierra gives me a glare. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“I have the afternoon off so I can go with you.”
“You don’t have to. It’s far and it’ll be boring.”
Sierra twirls noodles around on her fork. “I’m kind of using it as an excuse to get Panda Express. I’ve been craving it bad since I had it like daily when you were in the hospital.”
“Then I don’t feel bad dragging you along.”
“I’m going to dream about orange chicken tonight.”
“Sounds erotic.”
“Oh, it will be. If you hear me moaning in my sleep, I’m dreaming about eating. And speaking of eating, dinner is really good. Is there parsley in the sauce?”
“There might be. I added it by accident and tried to scoop it all out. You can taste it?”
Sierra shakes her head. “I can smell it. It’s good though, don’t worry.”
“I don’t even know what parsley smells like. You must have an incredibly good sense of smell.”
“I guess so. That’s such a lame superpower to have.”
“Unless you use it to find dead bodies.”
Sierra makes a face, and then considers it. “I bet I’d get my own show on the Discovery Channel.”
I laugh. “I bet you would.”
We talk the rest of dinner, and she tells me about the new books that came into the shop. My mind keeps going back to Jax and how he’s going more or less solo on a job that has a high risk. Am I a shitty friend? Going with him would make me a shitty boyfriend, that’s for sure.
Sierra and I clean the kitchen together, then go onto the screened-in porch and relax in the hammock. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship like this. I never stayed anywhere long enough to even give it a go. Sierra and I joke about being one of those couples that stop having sex, falling into the stereotype of a boring, married couple. Sierra’s insists on waiting at least until tomorrow to see what the doctor says, not wanting me to get hurt. But all it takes is one kiss to get her hot and bothered enough to throw caution to the wind.
Still, she won’t have sex with me. Instead, she pleasures herself while I watch and then she gives me a blow job. If this is what it takes to get through the next week or so of no sex, I think I’ll make it.
* * *
“Oh my God,” Sierra sighs. “This is so fucking good.”
I shake my head, smiling. “It’s all right.”
Sierra stabs a piece of orange chicken with her fork and holds it up. “It’s better than all right. I could eat this all day, every day.”
“Speaking of doing something every day…” I look across the table and wiggle my eyebrows. “The doctor did say he’s impressed with how fast I’m healing.”
“I have been horny all day,” Sierra whispers with a devilish smile. “I might just let you. But you have to lay there and let me do all the work.”
“I don’t know, Sierra, that sounds pretty terrible.”
“I know, right? How will you survive?”
“It’s going to be a torturous next week.”
“Or two.”
We finish our food and hit the road. I offer to drive home since Sierra drove me here, again with the strict following of the doctor’s orders, and am surprised when she says yes. She’s tired again and dozes off by the time we get back to her place.
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” I tell her when we walk into her house. The scent of lemongrass fills the air, welcoming me home.
Because that’s exactly what this feels like.
“I’m just tired,” she says. “I don’t feel sick or anything.” The cats come running, rubbing on Sierra’s legs. She scoops up Tinkerbell and goes into the kitchen to feed them a can of food. “I know we just ate but I’m already craving more fried rice,” she says with a laugh, but the humor dies really fast and she pales.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I just realized something. I, uh…” She trails off, eyes going to the floor.
“Sierra?” I reach for her, feeling alarmed by the horror on her face.
“I canceled my OB appointment when you were in the hospital. I haven’t had my period in a long time. I’ve been craving fried rice for days and can’t seem to catch up on sleep. I’ve been having cramps all we
ek and I keep thinking it’s going to start, but it hasn’t.”
Holy.
Fuck.
She looks up, face mirroring the same trepidation that’s on mine.
“There’s only one way to know for sure. Let’s go get a test.”
“Yeah. It might be nothing. Just PMS.”
“Right. Want to go now?”
“Yeah. I have to pee anyway.”
“Good thing the drugstore isn’t far.”
Sierra nods then quickly shakes her head. “I can’t go there! People will see me buying a pregnancy test and you know how this town talks!”
“I’ll get it for you.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “They’ll still know it’s for me.” She puts her hand to my mouth, eyes wide. “I’ll order from Amazon and pay for next-day shipping.”
“You can wait a full day without knowing?” I ask. I can’t. Not at fucking all.
“You’re right. It’s killing me now.”
“Isn’t there a Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town?”
“Yeah, there is.”
“They have self-checkout.”
Sierra lets out a nervous laugh. “You’re a genius. Let’s go. But we have to be sneaky with how we grab it. Let me make sure no one I know sees.”
“I’ll use my ninja skills.”
“Right. Just slip it in your pocket or something.”
Sierra grabs her purse, fingers trembling. We keep making lame jokes the whole way to the store, trying to deflect the we’re fucked vibe we’re both feeling at the moment. Silence falls over us when we get to the store. Sierra gets a basket and fills it with random things. I go down the aisle with the pregnancy test for her only to come back a second later.
“There are a million different types,” I inform her. “What kind do you want?”
She shakes her head. “I have no idea. What’s that one in the commercial?”
“I need more to go on than that.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. I’ll just grab one.”
She nods, nervously pulling on her necklace and paces up and down the vitamins on the opposite side of the aisle. I add a pregnancy test to the basket and we make a beeline for the checkout.
And then we run into the last person I want to fucking see: Judy Henson.
Chapter 27
Sierra
“Oh, hello, Sierra,” Mrs. Henson says, stopping short, holding onto an empty shopping cart. Her eyes linger over Chase, resentment obvious on her face. Then she looks back at me and for a second I think she’s going to pretend he’s not there. Chase told me she’s done that before when he’s around. Panic flashes through me and I look down at the basket I have clutched in my sweaty hand. I hid the test under a plaid shirt I grabbed off the clearance rack as we walked by. It’s a 3XL, but I doubt she can notice that from where she’s standing.
“Funny,” she starts, flicking her gaze back to Chase. “You can go shopping but can’t work. Convenient too, since my grandbabies were just born.”
“A five-minute shopping trip isn’t the same as an eight-hour shift,” I snap and Chase grabs my wrist, pulling me to him in an attempt to curb my temper. It’s not the first time this week I’ve uncharacteristically snapped at someone. “And it’s Chase’s friend who’s been helping until Chase is better.”
Mrs. Henson doesn’t know what to say. Her nostrils flare and she narrows her eyes, looking at Chase.
“If only you could see what he’s done to you,” she harshly whispers. “So many people in this town look up to you, Sierra. You’re disappointing all of us.”
Chase steps forward. “Get over yourself, Judy. Sierra’s more of a role model than you’ll ever be. She’s smart and kind and knows when to let shit go. Every time you see me, you’re reminded that your husband cheated on you. We all fucking get it, but it’s time to get over it, leave me alone, and stay the hell away from Sierra.” With that, he walks forward, tugging my hand so I follow. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Judy sputtering, and then shaking her head as she pushes her cart forward.
If there weren’t a more pressing issue on hand, I would have been upset over Judy’s harsh words and the fact that she’s going to go run her mouth to everyone about Chase telling her off…and will make it ten times worse. Though right now, all I can think about is whether I’m pregnant or not. And how bad I have to pee.
I read over the instructions as we drive home, though it’s not like I need to. You pee on the stick, wait, and read your fate. Nervous, I read every word. Even the words in Spanish. Chase doesn’t say anything on the way home and stays quiet when we go into my house and into the bathroom.
“It says to wait three minutes before looking,” I tell him. “So I’m going to pee on it then flip it over.”
“Okay.” Chase lets out a breath and steps outside the bathroom door. “I feel like I should tell you good luck.”
“Right? I think I need it.” I shut the door and sit on the toilet, thinking about the past week. I chalked the tiredness up to the stress of Chase getting sick. I get cravings every now and then, and it’s actually irritated me before when people jump to the ‘are you pregnant’ question whenever I mention I want a certain food. The moodiness and heightened sense of smell…yeah, that’s out of the norm for me.
I cap the test, flip it over, and put it on the closed toilet lid. I wash my hands and open the door. Chase is already looking at his watch. My fingers tremble and I feel sick.
“It’s going to be okay,” he tells me. “Whatever it says, we’ll get through it.”
I nod, trying hard not to let myself get ahead. Being pregnant with Chase’s baby is the last thing I thought would happen, but actually isn’t the worst. I look at him, admiring his physical beauty. Then it hits me how there’s still so much about him I don’t know.
“What’s wrong?” Chase asks, then quickly shakes his head. “Stupid question. You’re anxious, I know.” He looks at his watch again. “Two and a half minutes to go.”
I cross my arms, consider letting the issue go. But if there’s a chance I’m actually pregnant…I look up again. “Why did you steal the boat?”
“What boat?”
“The first night we met, you told me you went to Scotland to steal a boat. Why?”
Chase takes in a deep breath and I’m pretty sure he’s going to deflect my question and tell me we can talk about it at another time. We have a situation on hand right now, anyway.
“I was paid to.”
“You were paid to steal a boat?”
“Basically. But the boat was already stolen…in a way. I was getting it back.”
I sit on the edge of the bathtub. “I don’t understand.”
“The owner of the boat defaulted on his payments. I was hired by the man who sold it to him to get it back. So I did.”
“Is that why you’ve been arrested before?”
Chase doesn’t look surprised that I know. “I didn’t get arrested that time.” He pauses, waiting to see if I’m going to ask him another question. When I don’t, he checks his watch again.
“Lisa told me you came to the bank with a lot of cash. She thought it was weird and had Rob run a background check. She told me that you’ve been arrested more than once.” My spine tingles with anxiety, not just from the unknown results of the pregnancy test, but out of fear this conversation isn’t going to go the way I want it to. “I told myself that it didn’t matter. I love you. I trust you. The past is in the past.” I close my eyes, feeling tears well behind the closed lids. “I’ve been feeling guilty lately because it does matter, and I do want to know. I don’t want to judge you. I don’t want what happened before me to influence what we have or what’s to come. But there’s so much about you I don’t know, and no matter how hard I try to tell myself to get over it, I can’t, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t feel guilty. And yes, I’ve been arrested more than once.” He gives me a half-smile. “I’ve lost count of how many times, to be hone
st. I left college because I was presented an opportunity. In college, I was good friends with a guy who had very wealthy parents. They were investors or something…I don’t remember the details. They had a huge penthouse in downtown Chicago and a garage full of expensive cars. My friend liked to take them out and pick up women.” Chase leans on the doorframe.
“One night he got too drunk and somehow lost the keys to his father’s Aston Martin. I was able to track down the car and get it back with no trouble. My friend’s father was pretty fucking pleased he didn’t have to go through insurance or anything and could keep covering up the fact his son was a dumbass. Word got around and one of his friends contacted me, saying he has something stolen too and needed it back, and would pay me ten percent of the item’s worth if I got it back. I recovered twenty-thousand dollars in jewelry, then found out he lost it in a poker game.”
“That’s why you left college?”
“That was the start. The rich businessmen in Chicago talk at the bars after work, and just a week later, someone contacted me about being an ‘independent contractor’ for his clients. When expensive items showed up missing, I’d get them back. Most of the time I recovered items that money was owed on. Lots of money.”
“So, you repossessed things?”
“Yeah. In a way, but a lot less legal, which is why I’ve been arrested so many times. It’s more like bounty hunting for million-dollar items. And I got paid a percentage of the item’s worth. Fifteen percent was my usual rate. And that’s how I met Jax. I was hired to recover a yacht and he was hired to recover a helicopter. That was on the yacht.”
I blink, taking it all in. Chase isn’t a bad person. A knot in my chest loosens, and I feel guilty it was even there in the first place. “Why were the charges dropped?”
“Once we get to the station and both sides of the story are hashed out, things are ruled in my favor. Like the helicopter-yacht guy, once you stop paying for your items, the bank technically owns them. And when people from the bank hire me to go get them, it’s clear I’m not stealing for my own personal collection. It takes a while to get to that point though. And a lot of cops seem to enjoy arresting people. Don’t tell Rob,” he adds with a smile.
Small town romance boxed set Page 26
