“I can give you something more current.” Chase walked to the fireplace and poked at the logs.
Currently Nichole watched Chase too closely, every movement, every expression. She’d never paid attention in high school, never tracked his swagger down the crowded hallways. Now she feared she could locate him in a sold-out stadium. She focused on him so completely. Totally. Not. Good. Really not good. She blamed the fireplace. Who installed a storybook fireplace in their bedroom? The fireplace created an illusion and made her believe in happily-ever-afters.
“The reason we got caught on the snowmobile race last winter was because I made the guys reroute the course.” Chase added a log to the fire and turned toward her. “I made them change the route because of the snowy owls.”
“Snowy owls. Never mind.” Nichole shook her head as if unplugging her sudden interest. “I don’t want to know.”
“Snowy owls are ground nesters and hunt during the day, not at night like most owls.” Chase stretched out on the bed, crossed his legs at the ankles and looked entirely too comfortable. He stacked his hand behind his head as if content to recite owl facts into the night.
Nichole was entirely too ready to curl into his side, content to listen to him all night. She turned off the bathroom light, cutting her connection to Chase. But her gaze latched on to him as if she’d developed enhanced night vision.
“I saw the snowy owls and knew we had to change the course. The snowmobiles would’ve disturbed and stressed them too much.” Chase’s voice stretched through the room, tugging her toward him. “If we’d raced on the original trail, the park rangers would not have caught us.”
“That’s not true.” Nichole sat on the bed and tucked her feet under the blankets.
“Scouts’ honor.” Chase shifted, rolling on his good shoulder to face her.
“You were never a Boy Scout.”
“I should’ve been.” Chase reached across the pillow wall, grabbed her hand and flattened their palms and fingers together. He stared at their joined hands. A rasp scored his voice, etching the temptation deeper in his tone. “I clearly missed my calling.”
The glow of the fire fell across the bed like an invitation. She laced her fingers between his. His other hand reached out, curved around her cheek. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. Just one slow caress. Nichole held her breath. Even the heat from the fire stalled as if the room itself remembered their most recent kiss.
But that was all there could be. No more kisses. No more memory-making moments. She turned slightly, pressed her lips against his palm. Too brief. Too fleeting. But all she could offer.
Tomorrow they left Tahoe. The ski-moon ended, along with the fantasy her heart wanted to believe in. Tomorrow, she’d return to the city and plant her feet firmly back on the cement.
Tonight, she fell asleep, her hand tucked firmly in Chase’s.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“HERE’S YOUR MICROPHONE.” A woman handed a wireless mic to Chase. Her gray-tinged brown hair poked out around her headset as if she’d stuck her finger, not the headpiece into an electrical outlet. Her frazzled voice matched her erratic hand motions. “The teleprompter is there.”
Chase clasped his hands behind his back and eyed the wireless microphone like a writhing snake. Beside him, Wesley gaped at the harried woman. Wesley and Chase had only just arrived at the Pioneers’ weeklong Spring Break Camp for Kids. They’d returned late from Tahoe, but not late enough to miss Travis’s reminder that Chase had committed to helping at the camp. Nichole had scheduled vendor meetings that morning, and conveniently Wesley declared he wasn’t allowed to remain home alone. Chase had offered to bring Wesley with him, grateful for the company. Nichole hadn’t been as pleased, but she’d finally agreed.
Chase kept his expression contained, not wanting to rattle the headset-wearing woman any further. “I think you have the wrong person.”
“You are Chase Jacobs, correct?” The woman rapped a metal clipboard against her leg.
Chase nodded, his chin dipping by gradual degrees.
The same hesitation never seized Wesley. The boy planted his hands on his hips and even widened his stance as if he’d suddenly signed on as Chase’s bodyguard. “Of course, he’s Chase Jacobs and my new dad.”
Dad. Chase stuttered, lost his focus. There it was again. That one word that shuffled his insides and rearranged his equilibrium.
“Then he’s the emcee for the morning sessions all week.” The woman clutched her clipboard under her arm and thrust the microphone at Chase’s chest. “Travis Shaw volunteered you.”
This was not the kind of help Chase had planned to offer. He gripped the microphone but missed the tackle on his sudden panic. “When do we start?”
“Fifteen minutes we go live for the welcome.” The woman already moved on to the next item on her clipboard. “Then you head to the field to cover the day’s activities.”
“Any chance I could share the duties with Wesley?” Chase set his hand on Wesley’s shoulder. He slowed his words into calm and collected to cover his unease. “It’s a kids’ event. So, getting a kid’s perspective on the morning might be entertaining.”
“We need waivers and release forms signed by a parent or guardian then approval from legal.” She gave Wesley an absent glance. “I can get those forms to you. We could possibly work your son in for a short guest spot late this week.”
His son. Those two words slammed everything into another level. Dad and son. He’d always wanted that bond. Wesley was so much more than just a kid. They’d built zombie snowmen, rescued kittens, discovered an easy rapport. Laughed and bonded like a team. Dad and son. Chase coughed. A
