I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(80)

It’s almost eight by the time I’m ready, so I leave in a hurry and head across the gravel driveway to where I suspect “perfect” awaits.

When I reach the porch, I notice the front door is wide open and the screen door is unlocked. I think about just going in, but decide to ring the doorbell, lest I catch my guy off guard. The last thing I want is to ruin any surprise he’s planning.

After a beat, Chase yells down from the top of the stairs that he’ll be right down in a minute.

I duck down slightly and peer through the screen. I catch a quick flash of Chase walking by in nothing but a towel, looking all lean and muscular. The temperature, though not exceptionally hot this evening, suddenly seems to rise. A quick minute or two passes and, while I’m still fanning myself with my hand, Chase starts down the stairs.

My beautiful boy is as breathtaking as ever—freshly showered, hair slightly damp and tousled, and face clean-shaven. He’s dressed casually this evening, which always suits him best. Faded, worn jeans hang low on his hips and he has on a nice dress shirt.

On his way down the stairs, he lifts up the hem of the button-down he’s wearing, seemingly debating whether to tuck in or not. In that flash of seconds his taut abs are left exposed. Oh my. Sadly, my peek is too brief, as Chase lets the hem drop back into place, opting to leave his shirt untucked. As he reaches the last step, Chase rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. The shade of this particular dress shirt is a light bluish-gray, a perfect match to his gunmetal blues. Just as I think that, Chase turns those stunning eyes on me, holding me captive as his gaze so often does. I smile, he smiles, yet we don’t say a thing. Sometimes words are just not necessary.

Chase opens the screen door and steadies it with his hip. In order to step past him and into the hall, I have to brush up against his body. He’s solid and firm and smells deliciously fresh and clean. I hesitate. We are chest to chest, but only half so since he’s so much taller.

“Hey,” I murmur, glancing up.

“Hey back at you,” he quietly responds, catching my eye.

He grins at me. Well, he actually kind of smirks, all knowing-like. I sense my boy is confident his surprise—whatever it is—will impress me, which only serves to ratchet up my curiosity.

I step the rest of the way in and, in doing so, purposely bump his leg with my hip. He closes the screen door and I playfully ask, “So, what are you up to, sneaky boy?”

He laughs. “Dying to know, eh?”

Why play coy? “You know I am, so tell me. What do you have planned for our evening?”

“I’m not giving it up yet, curious girl. It’s a surprise.” Chase’s blues sparkle playfully. “But you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Must be something really good,” I reply, basing my comment on the smug look he’s shooting my way.

“Oh, it really is. Only the best for my girl, you know.” He delivers a feather-light kiss to my cheek, and then his fingers pass lightly over the faded red mark. “This looks much better.”

“It does,” I agree, then I step back and lift my dress a little to show him how well the bruise on my thigh is also healing. “See, this one’s really fading too.”

Chase’s expression darkens briefly. “You shouldn’t be marked up at all, baby.” His lips press together, and I know he’s thinking about the junkie and all that transpired last night.

I don’t want the upbeat mood we have going to dampen, so I quickly suggest, “Hey, let’s not talk about any of that, okay?”

Chase nods slowly, and I nudge him, trying to get him to smile again. It works. Thankfully he morphs rather swiftly back to carefree.

“Okay, surprise time,” Chase announces, sending a dazzling smile that could melt hearts my way. It certainly melts mine.

Chase covers my eyes with one hand, and, with his other hand at my waist, he steers me toward the base of the staircase. Walking behind me, he guides me up the stairs, down the hall, and into what I assume is his bedroom. My eyes are still covered, but I know from the warm breeze coming in that we’re standing in front of a window.

My boy lowers his hand from my eyes and tells me I can open them. I do.

The window we climbed out the other night is in front of me, we are indeed in Chase’s bedroom. But before I can turn around to where I feel my boy’s warm body behind mine, he puts his hands on my shoulders and makes me promise to remain where I am.

“Part of your surprise is on the dresser,” he explains. “If you turn around now you’ll see it, and I’m saving that part for later. Okay?”

I am insanely curious to see what Chase has put together, but I murmur an assent and do as he asks. I keep my eyes averted. He steps beside me and takes out the screen, then climbs out onto the roof. With one long leg in and one out, my boy helps me over the sill, just like he did the other night.

When we’re standing out on the flat rooftop, I notice a big, plaid blanket stretched out close to the little ledge up against the house, where we sat the other night and watched the sunset. There are four votive candles on the blanket, one at each corner, keeping the checkered material in place. The flames flicker in the breeze against the backdrop of a setting sun that is streaking this particular evening sky in indigos and violets.

“Is it always this beautiful up here?” I ask, marveling at the second amazing rooftop sunset I’ve been lucky enough to see.