To the guests who’re too polite to do anything but discreetly watch this ordeal, it probably looks like Chase is hoisting me to my feet like a car out of a ditch. His arm is slung across my low back and his hand is on my waist and he lifts me to standing. This is totally gushy, but it feels like he’s caressing me to my feet.
What does it feel like to be touched by your crush? Let me count the ways:
The softest silk
A summer breeze
Baby’s breath
A teddy bear
Downy feathers
Okay, I’ll stop now because this list could get long.
We straighten and Chase steps closer to examine the ring and hair snarl. I inhale his masculine scent. Not going to lie, it’s enough to land me back in a reclined position. It’s like spring rain soap, man, and something slightly spicy. I can’t put my finger on it. But I will, purely for candle-making purposes, because given the questions from Abigail’s friends, there’s a market forCologne de Chase.
“I wore it through the grapevine,” I say, referring to what Phoebe and I named the sterling silver ring with rose-cut diamonds and mil-graining in a vintage style.
“Do you mean youheardit through the grapevine?” Chase asks, referring to the famous song.
“Oh, that’s what I call the ring. It’s grapevine-inspired. Mum got it for me when she and Dad took a trip to Tuscany for their wedding anniversary one year. Phoebe has one that we call, um...” I realize too late that I can’t say it because of what it’ll sound like coming out of my mouth.
Chase inclines his head in question.
“It’s, um, called?—”
“Did you forget?” He rattles off some song titles from around the same era as the classic sung by Marvin Gaye.
“No. None of those. It was, um, from the seventies. An Olivia Newton-John song called, um, ‘HopelesslyDevotedtoYou.’” I smoosh the words together.
“Hopelessly Devoted to You?” Chase’s lips quirk as he continues working on getting my hand loose.
The yellow Christmas tree turns hopelessly red. “Mmhmm. Because the ring was olive-inspired. Also, a popular Tuscan product. So,Olivia Newton-John.”
“Yeah, I get it. Good tunes. Thanks to our grandmother, my sister loves those old love songs. She’s a total romantic.”
I let out a long breath. “Me too. I mean about the songs. They’re great.”
