I wasn’t behind the box at all anymore. “No? Then what would you call it?”
“An excuse to put my arms around you.”
Heat rushed my face the way it always did when Chase said something so direct. Another guy might have tickled me for the same reason, but he’d never have come right out and admitted it. He’d have equivocated or lied.I’dhave equivocated or lied. I still wasn’t used to how forthright Chase was, or how much I liked it.
“And what excuse do you need to put your arms around this box of snow globes so I can get to the one below it?”
Apparently, my asking was all he needed.
* * *
The day yielded to night as we worked. Before I knew it, it was full dark and Chase and I had made a decent dent in the garage on one side. I was more careful reaching for higher boxes after the rock collection, testing the weight before pulling anything down. Even still, I underestimated one and took a few steps backward before I could steady the weight. Bent over his own box several feet away, Chase might have missed my hurried steps, but not the burst of sour notes that emanated from whatever I’d backed into.
Chase’s head turned in my direction.
“I swear I’m not this much of a wuss.” I worked out hard almost every day, and my arms had well-earned definition to them. But I kept expecting the boxes to be lighter than they were. I was being impatient, and my reward was that I got to look weak in front of Chase. I hated that. He tried to take the box from me, but I held on to it. “No, I’m fine. I got it.” I noticed then that the box had Cast Iron Skillets written on it. Yeah.
I added it to the pile of kitchen stuff for later sorting and turned back in time to see Chase whip a drop cloth off the upright piano I’d awakened. “It’s beautiful,” I said, admiring the rich mahogany wood.
“Yeah.” He was looking at the piano like he’d never seen one before. Or like he’d never wanted to see one again.
“You play?”
He shook his head.
“Your mom?”
Another head shake.
“So your tool of a father, then?”
Chase laughed once. “Yeah, it was his.” He finally broke his gaze away from the piano. “Can you play?”
I pulled out the bench that was nestled underneath, sat and flexed my fingers. “Six whole months of lessons when I was eight. Here.” I scooted to make room for Chase and tugged him down next to me. “Gimme your hand.” I spread his fingers out over the keys and covered them with my own. I pressed down on my thumb, then my index finger and then my pinkie, moving his with my own. Not easy since his hands were almost twice as big as mine, but we got it. I repeated those three notes a few times until Chase no longer needed my hand to guide him. “Keep doing that.” I moved my hands down and started playing without any kind of finesse, but Selena and I had played “Heart and Soul” so many times that it came pretty easily.
“Okay, this time, hit each key twice.” We played through the duet again and then again until I’d added every little flourish that I could remember and a few that I did not. It was stupid and fun and I was so glad to see that distant look gone from Chase’s face when we finished. “So what if the piano was his,” I said, sliding my hands from the black and white keys. “It’s not anymore. Make it yours if you want it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” I stood up and Chase followed, his gaze never leaving me, but when I checked the bench for music, it was empty. I probably couldn’t have played anything anyway, but I would have tried just to show him he could too. Still, where there was a piano, there was sheet music. I started to turn and scan the nearby boxes, but Chase caught me with a hand, tugging me toward him until I had to tilt my head back to see his face. He didn’t bother with an excuse like when he’d tickled me. He wanted to put his arms around me, so he did. And when I stupidly didn’t move away, he urged me that half step closer that brought our bodies fully flush together. My pulse picked up, both from how close we were and from the unabashedly intense way he was looking at me.
“I hate this.” He gestured with his chin, taking in the whole garage. “Seeing how much she’s held on to is bad enough, but seeing his stuff…I almost want to break out your bats again, you know?”
I could feel each breath he made and knew he could feel mine. That warning voice I’d been steadily ignoring since we met had grown so dim by then, and it was nothing compared to the thunderous beating of my heart. “Play it or smash it. I’ll help you either way.”
He didn’t do that half-move guy thing where they start to lean in, hesitate, waiting for a go-ahead, before fully committing. Chase went right for it, barely giving me enough time for my stomach to rocket into my throat only to explode the second he brought his lips to mine. And then he pulled back almost before I could register—and revel—in the sensation. That same half smile lifted his mouth as he drew back, leaving his hand on the underside of my jaw a second longer before kissing me again.
CHAPTER 27
Islipped inside and upstairs with only seconds to spare on my curfew. I could have been home sooner, but I’d driven around after leaving Chase, vacillating between euphoric smiles and self-loathing scowls. Kissing him had been so wrong and wonderful and wrong again. By the time I gave my parents’ bedroom door the obligatory soft knock and “I’m home” that I was supposed to, my insides were tied up in so many knots that breathing was painful. I was hoping to make it to my room without either of them catching me in the hall, but I wasn’t quick enough. Dad pulled their door open before I was halfway to my room. He kept his voice low. Mom must have already been asleep.
“Hey, it’s late.”
Just hearing his voice made the knots constrict. “It’s before curfew.”
“You missed dinner again.”
“I texted Mom. She said it was fine.”
