He looked forward. “Dead ahead, Cash’s dude ranch.”
As the horses trotted down the road, Jade told herself to say something clever. “Speaking of a walk in the park, have you been to Acacia Park? It’s right downtown in Colorado Springs on Platte Avenue. Sometimes, I take my lunch and eat it while sitting on one of the green benches. I watched people ice skate there last winter. This spring, children are splashing in the fountain. When the Uncle Wilber statue entertains the park audience with his jazz music, it’s magical.”
“Haven’t heard Uncle Wilber play his tuba in a while,” Chase said with a smile. “That park was donated by city founder General William Jackson Palmer in 1871. It’s been attracting locals and tourists for a long time. Do you work or live near the park?”
“My work is closer to Acacia Park than my house.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I moved here a year ago this month. I’m surprised I’ve never run into you or Chloe or your brother in town. Not to mention Pikes Peak and Garden of the Gods, or the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.” Even though she’d been working for Franco while at those famous locales and tourist attractions, she would have noticed Chase. Concerned about revealing too much current information, she petted the beautiful palomino’s snowy mane and said, “I love all animals.”
“We grew up going to those places, plus the Manitou Springs Incline,” Chase told her, not swayed from the former subject. “The population is well over half a million these days, so it’d be easy to miss each other.”
“True. There are lots of great spots to eat downtown and other sites to see, like the Pioneer Museum or the latest exhibit in the Fine Arts Center at Colorado College.”
He cocked a rakish brow and grinned. “Is that an invitation to visit you in town?”
“Umm…” Suddenly, the image of Franco Spatafore dropped over her like a heavy, wet tarp. What would happen if he caught Chase at her two-bedroom rental on Foote Avenue? It would be ugly. Bowing her head to break eye contact, she said, “I don’t actually have free time to visit. But I know those places exist.”
“That’s okay,” Chase replied easily. “Like you said, my ranch keeps me busy. When I am in town, once in a while, I go to Southside Suzy’s on Tejon Street.”
“I’ve seen Southside Suzy’s, but I’ve not been there.”
The wind blew, flattening and billowing Chase’s shirt around all those muscles across his broad shoulders and back and down his chest and arms. His large hands on her waist had been light when she’d caught that second pancake. His grip had been quick and strong when he’d grabbed her left knee as she slid sideways in the saddle. Tingles raced again.
“Where were you last May before you moved here, Jade?”
“LA”
“Los Angeles?” He looked a little surprised. “And you wonder how I knew you were a city girl. What brought you here?”
“My job.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a therapist.”
“Physical therapist?”
“Mental health therapist. I work with elementary school children. I finished my master’s degree in social work at California State University in Los Angeles. As soon as I earned my clinical licensure, I applied for jobs outside the state.”
“Why? Did you get tired of the smog and traffic in Southern California?”
“Yes.” Jade nodded. Smog that didn’t burn off until noon seemed a million miles away under these cloudless blue skies. She would take mooing cattle grazing in pastures over honking cars on congested freeways any day. Every day. “I was ready for a change of scenery.”
“Didn’t you leave family and friends behind?”
“I’m kind of a loner.”
“My parents were among the first casualties of Covid. Where are yours?”
“Chloe mentioned Covid took your mom and dad. I’m so sorry, Chase.”
“Thanks.” He stretched in the saddle as the horses walked along the road through his property and said, “After my dad turned the ranch over to me, he and my mother traveled the world. They had just returned from Switzerland when they got sick.”
“Thank goodness they made it home before the borders were closed and flights canceled,” Jade said with compassion, knowing how much death could hurt. “My mom’s been gone a long time. She worked nights as a home health nurse. She was coming home at about two in the morning when she was killed by a drunk driver on Interstate 5 just blocks from where we lived with my grandparents. I was only four years old. But I always knew where she died, and it never failed to make me sad when I passed the crash site.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Chase’s deep voice was soothing. “Coop said he built his log home because it made him sad to live in the main house after my grandmother died.”
