by Jill Sanders
An hour later, Chase walked into his father's place with Buddy in his arms and stopped cold when he saw his father's arms wrapped around a tall blonde woman.
“Oh, excuse me.” He turned to go, but his father turned around.
“Don't be silly, boy. Come over here and meet my new gal. Charlotte, this is my boy I've been telling you all about.”
Chase set Buddy down and he quickly disappeared, no doubt looking for his father's dog to play with. Chase shook Charlotte’s hand and took in the woman's appearance. She was around his father's age, but a little shorter and a whole lot skinnier. Her clothes were neatly pressed and she looked like she'd taken great care in her appearance. His father had dated in the past, but no one had ever stuck around long. Somehow, he thought this time would be different. He could see it in his father's eyes.
“How do you do?”
“Oh, just fine. I told Johnathan that he should warn you I'd be coming along tonight.” She shook his hand in a firm but friendly handshake. His opinion of her tripled with the warmth he felt in her hands and the humor he saw in her eyes. Chase always disliked women who shook hands like they were so fragile they couldn't muster enough energy to hold onto someone’s hand.
“Don't worry about it. I like surprises.” He took her arm and steered her towards the dining room. “Well, since my father has left out mentioning you, ever”—he looked over his shoulder at his dad, who immediately looked away—“I'd love for you to fill me in on all the details of how and when you two met.” Charlotte smiled and chuckled a little.
An hour later, Chase was laughing so hard, he could hardly contain himself. Charlotte had told him the story of how she'd met him at the medical clinic. She was a physical therapist assigned to her father. Needless to say, his dad hadn’t wanted to listen to her but, in the end, she’d whipped him into shape.
“Damned if I don't like this one, Dad.” He slapped his father on the shoulder. “If you don't keep her, I think I'll take a shot at her myself.” He watched a slow smile cross his father's face.
“You're too late, son. I called dibs on her first.”
Charlotte smiled and reached across the table and took his father's hand.
“So, tell me all about this girl you're living with. Lauren was her name, right Johnathan?” Chase started coughing on the mouthful of water he'd just drunk. When he finally cleared his throat, he said. “I'm not living with her, per se. I'm staying in one of her ranch hand's houses.”
“Sure he is.” He watched his father's eyes fill with humor.
“Oh,” she chuckled, “I was led to believe—”
“Yes,” he broke in, “I can guess what you were told.” He looked towards his father, who had quickly looked away again, a slight smile on his face.
On the drive home, he thought about his situation. Why was he staying in a small, lonely house out in the fields when what he wanted was less than a mile away? By the time he drove up to the ranch, he couldn't shake the question from his mind. He'd seen the look of disappointment in Lauren's eyes when he'd said he couldn't stay for dinner. The fact that she'd wanted him to stay had given him hope. Did that mean she wanted him to stay the night, as well? Now that both her sisters knew they'd spent the night together, why would they hide their relationship? He reached the turn off towards his place, but at the last moment decided to head straight towards the big house instead.
Parking in front of the garage, he picked up Buddy and tucked the sleeping dog under his arm. Looking up towards the house, he saw Lauren's light on and decided to avoid the possibility of running into her sisters in the kitchen. There was a small deck on the second floor. The stairs were a little rickety, but he made his way up the stairs and knocked lightly on her locked window. It took a few times, but finally her curtains were thrown back and she looked at him from the other side of the glass.
She reached down and started to open her window, but it didn't budge. He put Buddy down on a cushioned chair a few feet away, then walked over and started helping her lift the window. In the end, it took a few more tries and both of them to yank the old window open enough that he could step in. He walked over and gathered the sleeping dog and stepped through.
“That's a hazard,” he said, setting Buddy down on a lounge chair that sat in front of her other window. “What if there had been a fire? There is no way you would have been able to get out by yourself.” He turned and started looking at the old wood and sill. There was an inch of paint caked around the glass. It needed to be scraped off. Better yet, all the windows should be completely replaced.
“I would have broken the glass,” she said from behind him. He looked over his shoulder at her. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Little black shorts hugged her hips and a small black tank top showed her every curve. He forgot about the window and slowly walked towards her, his mind blanked of everything but her. All he could think of was getting his hands on her soft skin.
“What are you doing here?” She was oblivious to his mood. Well, he would just have to show her that he intended to spend the rest of his nights in her bed.