Chapter Four
“Really, Chase, I’m fine. You don’t have to stick around.”
Of course he ignored her, busy playing the rescuing-hero role to the hilt. Why couldn’t he have just dropped her at the doctor’s office and been done with it? Why did he have to insist on escorting—okay, carrying—her home?
“Key?” He held out his hand and waited while she fumbled with the arm band where she kept all her stuff while she was running. Once he had it in his palm, he unlocked the front door and handed it back to her.
Then he swooped his free arm under her knees, hoisted her in the air, and cradled her against his chest. Again.
“Chase!” She wrapped her other arm around his neck and held on. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you safely inside,” he said, walking into her home as if she weighed next to nothing. “Where’s the couch?”
She ignored the implications of being carried across the threshold by her high school crush and waved a hand in the direction of the family room. “I can walk, you know.”
“Doctor Ames said to keep off your feet for a couple of days,” he retorted. “I’m not going against the medical establishment if I can help it.”
She snorted. “What are you going to do, move in here and carry me everywhere?”
He didn’t laugh. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”
“Chase.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s a minor sprain. I’ll be fine.”
“Still.” He settled her on the couch and took a step back. “Now where’s a blanket?”
“Oh my God. It’s almost ninety degrees out today. I don’t need a blanket.”
“Okay, how about a cold drink?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Chase. I say this with all sincerity. Go away.”
He had the audacity to look hurt, the bastard.
“Seriously. I’m a horrible invalid. Ask my parents. You need to leave before you start hating me.”
He was already shaking his head. “Not possible.”
“Okay, fine.” She relented. A little. “A cold drink would be nice. As long as you have one too.”
She pointed him in the direction of the kitchen, then sighed as she looked around the cozy room. She was sweaty, cranky, and in pain no matter how much she denied it. This was all-around not a good look on her. And he was hovering like an auntie with nothing better to do.
Her gaze fell on the laptop she’d left on the coffee table before her run this morning. Oh no. She didn’t even have to make something up now for him to do.
“Here you go. One lemonade for you, one for me,” he said, turning the corner into the family room carrying two large glasses. Then he looked at her expression. “What’s wrong? Do you need your meds?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Physically. But I need your help.”
“Anything,” he said immediately.
“If you go upstairs to the first room on the right, you’ll be in my office. I need the papers that are on my printer right now.”
He set down the glasses on coasters and headed up the stairs.
Mia called after him, “And stay out of my bedroom!”
“Too late,” came the muffled reply. “I’m directionally challenged.”
Sure you are, she thought, wincing at the memory of how untidy her room was. Her main, public rooms were usually presentable, but no one ever went in her bedroom. So if she left her bra hanging on the mirror, well, who cared?
“Got it,” Chase said, loping back down the stairs.
She stared at the sheaf of papers in his hand for a moment, somehow almost expecting it to be that bra. But, no, that was just her own fevered imagination.
He handed her the papers, but she pressed them back into his hand. “Now I need another favor.”
“Okay.” He waited for her to say something else.
“Can you take this over to the auditorium? It’s the final version of the script, and the kids don’t have it yet. They’ll be rehearsing the wrong version if they don’t get it by two.”
He checked his watch. “So in fifteen minutes. Sure, I’ll get it to them. Just a drop and run, right?”
“Here, I’ll give you the key too. Otherwise they won’t be able to get inside.”
He took the key, then gestured to the door. “I’d better go. Check in on you after?”
“Really, Chase, I’ll be fine. I can call you if I need anything.”
“Not if you don’t have my number. Here, give me your phone.” He held out his hand and she passed over her cell phone. He programmed his number into it and gave it back. “Seriously, you need anything, day or night, call me.”
“I will.” At his skeptical look, she said, “I will.”
“And I’ll see you later tonight.” When she started to protest, he held up a hand. “You’re gonna need dinner at some point, and since you can’t be on your feet, I’ll bring something by.”
“Jessie can bring me dinner.”
“I’m sure she can. But I will. Besides, I’ll need to bring back your key.” He winked, drained the glass of lemonade he’d brought out with hers, and let himself out the door with the scripts in hand.
Mia let her head fall back on the arm of the couch with a thunk. The man was determined to be her personal nursemaid, and she had no idea what she was going to do about it.
Because he was leaving town any day now, and it would be a dangerous thing to get used to having him around.
*
Chase pulled into the parking lot behind the school and turned off his car. A group of kids milled around near the back door to the auditorium, chatting and goofing off. A wave of nostalgia washed over him. How many times had he been in that exact spot, waiting for Mr. Collins to show up for rehearsal, hanging out with his drama buddies?
One of whom was currently on her couch recuperating from a sprained ankle.
When he looked back, it was crazy how much she was part of his high school memories. And yet when he’d taken off for Hollywood, he’d barely given her—or anyone else—a second thought.
God, he was such a dick sometimes.
He’d been so focused on becoming a star, hitting the big time, that he’d filed Sapphire Falls and everything about it in the back of his mind under Hometown, Archived.
In L.A., Sapphire Falls had been an anecdote, a funny story to pull out when people asked where he was from but didn’t really care to hear the answer. It was cute, and quirky, and easy to laugh about.
He didn’t feel like laughing now.
This closeness, this camaraderie… He’d missed it. He’d lived in Hollywood, filmed in Canada and Georgia, worked with famous directors and actors who probably couldn’t pick him out of a lineup, had roles on TV and in the movies, but it was the simple truth. He was goddamn envious of a bunch of teenagers in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.
He got out of the car and walked toward the back entrance to the auditorium. Slowly, the chatter stopped as students noticed he was there. A couple of boys in the back nudged each other. One of them mouthed, “Hugh Stone, we have a problem.”
“See, I told you guys I saw them together,” he heard someone stage whisper.
Chase rolled his eyes. Teenagers.
“Okay, everyone, I’m sure by now you’ve heard that Ms. Gonzales twisted her ankle running down by the river this morning. She’s fine, just a little sore, but definitely not up for directing right now. I’m Chase Hamilton, and I’ve got your updated scripts so you can get to work.”
He unlocked the back door and ushered them inside, stopping for a moment as the familiar sights and smells of backstage rushed over him.
The kids, to their credit, did what was asked with a minimum of whispering and staring. Mia had clearly trained them well. One of the girls took the scripts from him and started handing them out, calling out names as she went along. Once they were all distributed, she turned and looked at Chase. “We’re ready,” she said politely.
“Great,” he replied. “You guys have fun with that.” He turned to go.
“Wait!” The blonde girl who’d seen him with Mia downtown rushed forward. “Aren’t you going to run rehearsal?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because we need an adult to supervise,” she replied
A boy in Harry Potter glasses and cargo shorts added, “Emme is right. We can’t be here without an adult.”
“I don’t know what they think we’re going to do without an adult around,” the first girl muttered. “It’s not like this is the haunted house or something. Nobody’s getting busy backstage.”
“You have to stay,” Emme said. “Otherwise Ms. Gonzales could get in trouble and lose her job.”
“They’re not going to fire her for not having an adult at one rehearsal,” Chase argued, but he couldn’t be totally sure about that. Schools had strict rules about stuff like supervision.
“Well, at a minimum, they’ll shut down production,” the boy replied. “And Ms. Gonzales has worked so hard on this show. It would suck if we weren’t able to perform it.”
“What show are you doing anyway?” For the first time, he glanced at the script he’d delivered. It didn’t look familiar.
“The History of Sapphire Falls, by Mia Gonzales,” she said proudly. “The mayor commissioned it.”
“You mean, the mayor said okay when Ms. G asked if we could do it,” a tall boy in the back shouted.
“Shut up, Brandon,” Emme said without even looking around. She grimaced at Chase. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Chase said. “So Mia—I mean, Ms. Gonzales wrote this?” He took the script back from Emme and started thumbing through it.
“We haven’t even seen the final draft yet, and the performance is on Saturday. I mean, we’ve got the general gist of it, but…”
“If we lose even one day of rehearsal, this show is gonna suck. No matter how good Ms. Gonzales’s script is.”
“And we could sure use some feedback from someone who actually knows what the hel— I mean, what the heck they’re doing.”
Chase looked around. The kids had that we’re-never-going-to-make-it look he remembered so well from his years in high school theater. It was Hell Week, and they’d just lost their playwright, director, and leader all in one stupid ankle injury.
He wasn’t sure he agreed with the assessment that he knew what the hell he was doing, but he owed it to Mia—and her students—to do what he could to put things right.
He sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll stick around for a while so you can run through the show a couple of times. But that’s it.”
*
Two hours later, Chase dragged himself out of the theater, blinking in the suddenly blinding sunlight. The last stragglers followed him out, the final echoes of their laughter fading as they piled in cars to drive away or headed out on foot.
He locked up, pocketed the key, and walked to his car.
Damn. She’d written a pretty good script. Not pro-level, of course, but it was funny and well-paced, and told the story of Sapphire Falls in a really accessible way. The kids had stumbled their way through the unfamiliar bits, but overall had kept a good attitude and worked hard.
And despite himself, he’d had fun.
He checked his watch. It was getting on toward dinner time, and Mia had been home alone for too long anyway. If he hurried, he could grab what he needed to make supper before going over to her place.
As he drove away from the theater, he tried not to think about how much he was looking forward to seeing her again.