I didn't bother pointing out that my sister was now also living at my parents' place, at least for the summer. But then again, she was three years younger and still in college, so maybe Chase would see things differently in her case.
He said, "Lemme ask you something. Let's say I walk you up to the front door, and I want to kiss you goodnight. Is your dad gonna be waiting?"
"I don't know," I said. "Possibly. It is his house, you know."
In reality, Chase had never walked me to the front door, but that was my doing, not his. Ever since my parents had caught us making out along the roadside, I'd decided that one embarrassing encounter was more than enough.
And yet, after every weekend excursion, Chase still insisted on unloading my suitcases and taking them up to the front walkway – not quite to the front porch, but far enough.
Afterward, he always made a point to wait in his car until I was actually inside the house before backing out of the driveway. It was surprisingly chivalrous, especially for someone with his reputation.
Again, I thought of the book. Would I find any chivalry in there?
Doubtful.
After another long silence, he asked, "So what's the difference between my house and his?"
His. Meaning my dad's. I asked, "Don’t you mean theirs?"
"You know what I mean."
Yeah, I did. But this whole conversation had me on edge, mostly because part of me was still stupidly tempted to jump on his offer. Absently, I replied, "Well, the places are completely different, obviously."
"That's not what I meant."
"So, what do you mean?"
"If you're gonna be living with someone, why not me?"
"Maybe I don't want to move," I said. "It takes a ton of time."
"So I'll hire movers."
"Yeah, but what about the packing?"
"I'll pay them to pack, too."
By now, I was irritated, mostly with myself because the temptation was proving nearly impossible to resist.
I loved spending time with him. I loved sleeping in his arms. I loved waking up nestled against his chest, eating breakfast with him, and showering together, too. In truth, I loved just about everything.
At the realization, something squeezed at my heart. Oh, no.
I probably loved him, too.
This was bad. But I refused to make it worse. I forced a laugh. "Oh come on. You can't solve every problem with a wad of cash."
"That's what you think?" he said. "That I'm trying to buy you?"
"Not me," I said. "The movers."
"Yeah, well, in that case, I'd be renting them."
I wasn't sure if he was joking, but it didn't matter. His statement was a timely reminder that the movers wouldn't be the only thing he'd be renting.
Call me old-fashioned, but I already knew how this story ended, and it wasn't good, not for me, anyway.
By the time we pulled into my parents' driveway, both of us were tense and unhappy. It was really a shame, too, because we'd had such an incredible weekend, even in spite of that unpleasant encounter in the ladies room.
And sure, our weekend would've been even more amazing if Chase and I were returning to the same place. But this particular temptation – it was the last thing I needed.
With this in mind, I asked, "Can you do me a favor?"
When Chase made no reply, I continued, anyway. "The living-together thing, can we just let it drop?" I hesitated. "Not just for tonight, but for good?"
"Done."
I blinked in surprise. "Seriously? You don't mind?"
He shrugged in the shadows. "If you ask me, you're the smart one."
"Really? Why do you say that?"
"Because you're right," he said. "September's coming fast."
Chapter 62
Mina
September's coming fast. Those words haunted me as I unpacked my two small suitcases and took a quick shower in the upstairs bathroom.
My parents were already asleep, and I hadn't seen my car in the driveway, which told me that my sister was still at work. I'd been letting her drive my car any time she wanted while I was away with Chase, because her own car was even less reliable than mine.
With Natalie gone and my parents asleep, the house was eerily quiet as I returned to my old childhood bedroom and sat in my nightclothes on the familiar twin-sized bed.
As far as Chase's final comment, it could mean only one of two things. Either he was also thinking that our relationship might not last beyond the campaign, or he was referring to what I'd told him about moving for a new job, assuming I had to.
This wasn't what I wanted.
I dreaded the thought of moving away. But I also dreaded the thought of settling for a part-time service job instead of a job that actually used my degree.
These thoughts were heavy on my mind, even as I reached down and retrieved the book from the tote-bag.
But soon, thoughts of everything else faded into the background as I read what Angelique had to say about Chase.
It wasn't good.
Of course, I had never expected it to be good. Back in the beginning, Chase himself had warned me that it wasn't flattering. Still, as I read chapter after chapter, I found myself growing more and more concerned.
By the time I finished, I had no idea what to think.
The guy described in the book was not the guy I'd been spending so much time with. In fact, he was exactly the kind of guy I would surely avoid.
According to Angelique, Chase was a lying, cheating scumbag – sure, a sexy and generous scumbag, but a scumbag nonetheless.
With sleep now impossible, I returned to a chapter I'd found particularly troubling. It was the chapter describing what Chase had demanded for his most-recent birthday – a harem of warm and willing women to do his bidding.
A harem.
That's what Angelique had called it, except for all those times she'd called it an orgy. She didn't specify how many women were involved, but it sounded like a lot, at least half a dozen.
And that wasn't all.
According to the book, Chase had ended the relationship not too long afterward,
