One Small Thing(51)

Sandy hustles me down the hall to the storage room, where long metal shelves filled with shovels and boxes and bags line the walls. She arrows to the back, grabs something and returns. “Here, you’ll need these.” She hands me a pair of blue-and-black work gloves.

I slip them over my fingers. They’re a little long, but I don’t want to complain. I’m lucky they gave me my job back after my father quit on my behalf without warning.

We head out the back door and then down a rock path toward the edge of a wooded area. There’s already a worker there moving dirt and debris from one pile to another. His long-limbed, easy gait reminds me of Chase. But then everything does these days.

“So are you seriously considering vet school?” Sandy asks.

“Yes. You know how much I love animals. I really wish I could have a pet at home but, you know, allergies.” I don’t say my dead sister’s allergies, because that sounds utterly insane, and I don’t want Sandy to think my parents are nutjobs.

“That’s too bad. There are hairless cats and stuff, but they’re pretty expensive. Plus, you already know we encourage adoption rather than buying from breeders. Last year, there was, like, a million unwanted pets put down.”

I gasp. “A million?”

“Yeah, tragic, right?” We reach the construction site, and Sandy waves a hand over it. “We just bought this property last week and as you can see it’s kind of an actual dump. We need to clear the land. Metal, compost and trash are all being separated. If you have any questions, give Chase a holler. He just started a couple days ago. Hey, Chase!” Sandy waves as the male worker slows the wheelbarrow to a stop near us.

Shock gives way to pleasure.

Seriously? I get to see Chase and be free of my parents for a few hours every weekend?

I don’t care how much poop I have to shovel. It’s worth it.

“Hey, Sandy. What do you need—” The grin on Chase’s face immediately disappears when he recognizes me.

“This is Beth Jones. She’s our new volunteer. Well, technically, she’s an old volunteer who’s going to be rejoining us.” Sandy knocks shoulders with him.

I stiffen. Are they dating or something? He looked so happy to see her before he spotted me, and she’s acting like they’re old friends. Did he cheat on Sandy with me at the party? Or is this something new? Sandy’s pretty, but she’s older. Like, I swear she’s in her mid to late twenties.

I stare at Chase, who stares back grimly.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies in a tone that says it’s anything but nice for him.

Sandy gives him a curious glance, but Chase is saved from explaining his abrupt mood change when someone from the shelter hails Sandy.

“You two going to be okay?” she asks, clearly hesitant to leave us alone.

“Sandy,” the guy at the back door calls again.

“We’ll be fine, thank you,” I say, because I want her to leave us alone.

“Yeah, go on, Sandy. I got this.” Chase gives his coworker a chin nod.

The Chase standing in front of me seems so much more confident than the one at school. In the hallways, his head is always down. In the classroom, he stares straight ahead. Here, he meets your eyes full on. His shoulders are straight. He even looks taller—and hotter.

The minute that Sandy is out of earshot, Chase leans toward me.

My heart starts beating so hard, I swear I can feel it knocking against my rib cage. I gulp. The air between us thins. As his mouth gets closer to my face, my breath catches in my throat. Is he... Is he going to...?

“Are you following me?” he whispers in my ear.

I jerk back. “What?”

“Why are you here? Did you follow me?”

Any warm feelings I was experiencing are washed away by outrage. “Of course not. I’ve been volunteering here for two years!”

His eyes narrow, as if he doesn’t quite believe me.

“It’s true,” I insist. “Didn’t you hear what Sandy said about me being an old volunteer? This was my place long before you showed up here.”

To punctuate that, I push past him and grab a tree branch. Of course, it’s larger than I anticipated and gets stuck under some other object, so I don’t get to stomp away like I wanted. My plans are always being thwarted.

A big hand curls around mine and the branch comes loose. “I’m sorry,” he says roughly. “Can we start again?”

Wouldn’t that be great? “From where?”

“From the beginning?” He slowly lowers his end of the branch and then sticks out his hand. “I’m Chase Donnelly.”

I reach for his hand and shake it. His long fingers curl around mine, shooting shocks of electricity throughout my body. Ignoring them, I say, “I’m Beth Jones. I’m volunteering here again after a short hiatus.”

“This is part of my probation.”

I drop his hand. “Seriously, Chase. You can’t lead with that.” So much for starting over. I reach for the branch and start dragging it.

“Why not?” he says, grabbing the heavy end and hoisting it in the air. “It’s the truth.”

“So? There’s a ton of other truths you could lead with. Like, the mayor is your stepdad. Lead with that.”

“That makes me sound like a pretentious asshat,” he grumbles.