Chase steps out from the cabin, emerging into the light. He’s wearing his standard uniform of gray Henley and cargo shorts, and he flashes me a shy smile before we embrace.
Fuck, that smile gets me.
I kiss his cheek, our beards rubbing together, and let him hold me for a second. The comfort of his strong embrace is incredible, and I sigh happily and nuzzle the crook of his neck.
“Come on in. Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll have a beer if you’ll have one.”
“Deal.”
“How was your day?” I ask him.
“Mixed, I guess. But I got a lot done, so that makes me happy. How about you?”
I somehow prevent the truth from spilling out. “Oh, you know. Another day, another dollar.”
As in, I probably made a total of a dollar today.
Inside the cabin, there are a couple of fans running, and a quick glance around suggests that Chase took the time to tidy up for me. His fishing supplies are neatly stored in the corner, the nature magazines are stacked on the coffee table, and all of Max’s chew toys are waiting in the doggy bed.
Chase steps into the kitchen area, then returns with two bottles of beer in one hand and a big bouquet of wildflowers in the other.
My heart stops. “Flowers! Oh my God.”
“I was out in the woods this afternoon,” Chase explains, his deep voice rumbling as he avoids my eyes. “Thought you might enjoy some flowers. Maybe celebrate your first video going online. I hope that’s okay.”
I stand there, arms limp, totally stunned. Splashes of pinks and purples and oranges animate the bouquet, like Chase is holding a sunset in his hands.
“No one has ever brought me flowers before,” I say quietly.
“Aw, shit,” Chase grumbles. He stops himself from handing them to me. “It’s too much. That’s what I told Sully, but he insisted—”
Before he can keep apologizing, I throw myself at him, wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, and pull him into a kiss. “It’s not too much,” I say, my lips against his. “Thank you. I love them. Thank you.”
My voice breaks. This is so silly. They’re just flowers, but Chase is sweet and respectful in the way he gives them to me, and now his big arms are around my shoulders, holding me close to his heartbeat.
He strokes the back of my head, pushing his fingers through my hair. “Good. I hoped they’d make you smile.”
And that does me in. I’m no good at hiding my emotions in the first place, but apparently, all it takes is a little gesture from Chase to send me over the edge. I realize I’m crying, and that Chase is going to see what an emotional wreck I can be sometimes.
“Fuck,” I gasp, pulling back. “I’m sorry.”
He keeps his hand on my arm, not breaking the connection between us. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just emotional. I cry all the time. Like, I still cry every time I listen to that Sam Smith song where they have a hookup and then lose their cool and ask the guy to stay, and that song is like seven years old now, you know?”
Chase gives me a blank look.
I wipe my eyes, my hands shaking, then lift the flowers from the table to take a deep sniff of their sweet scent. “I just had a rough day,” I manage through a few more tears.
Chase frowns, concern clouding his features. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing.”
He tightens his jaw. “I want to know.”
My mouth is dry. I don’t know what to say, but his eyes are so warm and kind, and he’s so insistent. I can’t keep secrets from him.
