“Naw, but as kids, my best friend Dice and I did. We used to dare each other to do the dumbest things. In this case, he bet I’d be too scared to climb to the top at midnight and ring the bell”.
“Did you do it?”
“Damn straight.” He chuckles. “He was so sure I’d chicken out that he put up hisUltimate Spider-Man #1—the first issue of the Ultimate Marvel series. Big stakes for a twelve-year-old. We were comic book geeks,” he adds proudly. “We still collect.”
That unexpected insight into him has me smiling. I wouldn’t have pegged Chaz as having a nerdy side, but it makes him more endearing. “So, what happened with your climb?”
“Well, we snuck out of our houses in the pitch black and made it over here on our bikes. I got to the top easy enough, determined to win that grail.”
“Grail?” I ask.
“It’s a term for a special edition or unique comic book—as in the holy grail.”
“Ah, I see. Go on. You get to the top . . .”
“Yeah, and the bell was massive and rusted. It probably hadn’t been rung in years. I gave it a hard tug, but the clapper was loose. The momentum knocked me back, and I whacked the side of my head on the metal railing. Blacked out.”
“Oh, no.” I gasp, covering my mouth.
“Woke up in the hospital with a concussion and three stitches right here,” he points to a small scar bisecting his right eyebrow.
“It adds character.” I tease. “A bit rakish, like a pirate.”
“I do have ear piercings. Just need an eye patch and a beautiful maiden to kidnap.” He winks, and heat flushes my face despite the bitter cold.
“Did your friend give you the comic book?”
“Yep, to his unending grumbling. It’s worth a mint now.” He pulls a small cooler from the snowmobile. “Dinner.”
“You’re feeding me, too?”
“Full service.” He grins, which seems to come naturally to him. Then, slinging the bag over his shoulder, he leads the way down the snow-crusted path.
Inside, the air is damp and cold, filled with a sense of history. The narrow staircase creaks as we climb. Chaz checks on me every few steps, showing me more of his caring and attentive side. When we reach the top, I put on my hat and step onto the ledge bordered by a protective rail. The wind is brisk, but the view is breathtaking. The sunset paints the sky in strokes of dark purple and vibrant orange, and the town below twinkles like stars scattered along the shore.
“You weren’t exaggerating. It’s spectacular.”
“Glad you’re pleased.”
Once I’ve gotten my fill of photos and the cold drives us inside, Chaz lays out a blanket and turns on the portable heater. We remove our jackets and snow pants and hang them on a rail to dry. I try not to ogle him in his Dri-fit tights as I settle cross-legged on the blanket in my leggings and sweater.
“Warm enough?” he asks.
“Quite,” I say as the toasty stream of air unthaws my hands. My phone vibrates, and I peek at the message from Jordyn. She informs me that her security expert fiancé, Stiles, ran a criminal check on Chaz.
Jordyn: Your sexy singer is clean as a whistle and ready to be blown!
I know my face must be flaming red when Chaz asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, trying to put Jordyn’s text out of my mind. “What’s on this evening’s menu?”
“I’ll start us off with some white wine.” He retrieves a bottle from the cooler. “You strike me as a woman who would enjoy a fine Pinot Grigio. It’s not too sharp or too dry, just slightly sweet, but still well-rounded.”
“You’re very astute and know your wines.”
“I was taught by the best—Val Vargas. I worked in his restaurant and learned about wine and food pairings.”
“Vargas, as in Bitsy’s family?”
