Breathe (Colorado Mountain #4)(47)

I snuggled deeper under the covers even though his voice made me way warm and cuddly.

“Hey honey,” I said soft. “You get home okay or are you deep in the mountains recovering from a ceremonial male bonding ritual after killing a bear?”

I got a husky, drowsy, sexy chuckle that made me feel warmer and way cuddlier then, “I got home okay.”

“Good,” I muttered.

“You sleep okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled.

This got me nothing.

I waited.

Still nothing.

“Chace?”

“I’m here.”

“You were quiet,” I told him something he knew.

“You sound half asleep.”

“I’m not,” I kind of lied.

“Maybe not, honey, but you sound it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll let you go after you tell me if you took care of our kid.”

“All good,” I said softly. “Bottle of ibuprofen, kid’s multi-vitamins and some Neosporin. The other stuff I told you I’d do yesterday. Some more food to keep him stocked up. Another note telling him how to use the ointment and to get a wash if he can.”

“You don’t need me to pop ‘round the store to pick anything up?”

“No, honey.”

“All right, baby. Now go back to sleep.”

“Chace?”

“Yeah?”

“In the note, I told him a little bit about you. Just who you are, that you’re cool, he has nothing to worry about and you’re helping me look out for him. Was that okay?”

“Yeah, Faye. That’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I wanted to talk to him until the earth started revolving around the moon.

I didn’t tell him that.

I said, “’Kay.”

“See you later, honey.”

“Later, Chace.”

He disconnected.

I beeped off my phone.

I didn’t think I could get back to sleep.

But I did.

* * * * *

Eight thirty-two that same morning

My eyes on the return bin, Chace’s coffee on my dash, mine in my hand, my car parked on the street, I waited for the boy and Chace.

I’d texted him to say coffee was my treat. He’d texted back to give me his order and tell me he’d pay me back when he got to my Cherokee. I texted him back and asked him if he knew what “my treat” meant. He texted me back with, Baby, I’ll give you money when I get to your SUV.

These were simple words on a phone display but I still could read the tone.

My text back was, Oh, all right.

I expected that would be the end but I got a one word reply.

Cute.

God, Chace Keaton was fraking awesome.

My cell rang. I pulled it out of my purse and saw the display said, “Chace Calling”.

I felt a little thrill shiver over my skin and took the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey honey. Bad news. Got a callout. I can’t do the stakeout with you today.”

That was a huge fraking bummer.

“Okay,” I replied.

“I’ll be at your place tonight, seven thirty.”

“Does seven thirty mean our reservation is at eight?”

“Eight fifteen, in case we hit traffic or weather.”

“Will this mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin on the way back, considering we’ll probably get home past your bedtime?”

Silence then, “Now she gives me smartass and it’s still f**kin’ cute.”

I smiled.

The boy showed.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed on a muted cry. “He’s back.”

“How’s he look?”

I studied him as he made his careful way to the return bin. “He’s wearing my coat, new jeans. The hat. He really should wear the gloves and scarf I bought him. It’s cold. I’ll put that in my next note.” Then, quietly, “Lip still bad.”

“He uses the Neosporin, it’ll help.”

“Yeah.”

I listened to Chace sigh as I watched the boy make it to the bags.

“He get ‘em?” Chace asked.

“He’s going for them now.”

“Good,” he muttered then, “Gonna let you go. See you tonight.”

“Tonight, Chace.”

“Later, honey.”

He disconnected.

I watched the boy walk away with the bags.

I gave it time, secured Chace’s coffee (latte, triple shot) and then drove into the lot.

I took Chace’s coffee with me into the library and I drank it after mine. This meant I was wired all morning.

Or it could be my date with Chace that night that made me wired.

It didn’t matter.

It felt like I was dancing on air.

* * * * *

Seven thirty that evening

“Frak, frak, frickity frak, frak, frak,” I muttered, looking at myself in the full length mirror on the inside of my wardrobe door.

This wasn’t me.

It was hot.

But it wasn’t me.

I was wearing a sweater dress the color of a green olive, a color that Lexie told me would work for me in a big way with my coloring and she was not wrong.