Chapter 8
Isabelle sat in Chance’s truck staring straight ahead. He hadn’t said much after coming in from cutting wood and she hadn’t spoken much either. It felt like they were fighting, but she couldn’t figure out why. She just knew it was because of something she’d said, and that pissed her off even more, because Zeke always said all of their arguments were her fault. She didn’t see it then and she didn’t see it now. Part of her wanted to ask Chance what his problem was, but Zeke had taught her that asking a man those kinds of questions got her black eyes and busted lips, so she kept her mouth shut.
Chance glanced at her hands that she was rubbing together between her knees.
“Cold?” he asked, but it sounded angry. Still, he flicked the heat on high and checked to make sure her vents were open and pointing fully on her. It was so odd. Whenever Zeke was mad at her, he couldn’t care less about her comfort, and here was Chance, mad at her for something she didn’t understand, but still looking out for her.
Suddenly, and out of nowhere, she wished Chance had been him. She wished Chance had been the guy she’d met online, that he’d been the one she’d met for that first date. She wished she was the one he’d brought flowers to. They would have gotten along. They would have appreciated each other. Silly tears flooded her eyes and she turned her body more fully toward the window so Chance wouldn’t see.
His voice was soft and full of concern when he asked, “Isabelle?”
Afraid her voice would break, she didn’t answer or look at him.
“Hey, you okay?”
She kept her face pressed into her shoulder as she fought to regain her composure. It was a losing battle, because she couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Chance had been the one she’d met instead of Zeke. She envisioned moving out to his cabin to be with him instead of moving to Nevada to be with dick-for-brains.
Isabelle blinked and a tear rolled slowly down her cheek. Suddenly, Chance pulled the truck off onto the side of the road. Shit!
Sniffling, she rubbed her cheek against her shoulder and licked a tear off her upper lip. “I-it’s okay.” Damn trembling voice. “I’m fine,” she lied, but the truck was already in park and Chance was pulling her across the bench seat and onto his lap.
“Belle? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was thin as air now and she had to stop talking altogether, because her tears were falling freely now.
“Shhh,” Chance crooned, rubbing her back and gently pulling her head forward to tuck it under his chin. “Don’t cry. Please! I’m pretty damn handy, and can fix just about anything, but I don’t know what to do here. Please don’t.”
She wanted to tell him it was okay, but she couldn’t. Instead, she tucked her arm under his and hugged him tight. He apparently got the message, because his arms circled more firmly around her and he sat holding her in silence as she cried quietly against his chest.
Long minutes later, when her tears had turned to sniffling and deep breathes, she cringed in embarrassment at her meltdown. “I’m sorry, Chance.”
He held her more tightly against his chest. “Don’t apologize for your tears, woman. They mean you feel something, and that’s alright by me.”
“I just…I don’t want to fight with you, and I can’t figure out how I’m always screwing things up and starting trouble.”
Pulling back, he stared down at her. “First off, we’re not fighting. And second, you didn’t do anything wrong or start any trouble, Belle. I know for a fact that motherfucker from Nevada put stupid shit in your head, but you gotta let it go just like you let him go. He wasn’t a man, Isabelle. Don’t go judging us all by him. We don’t deserve it, and you didn’t deserve to be mistreated by that loser. Understand?”
She nodded, staring up at him as they both fell silent. Eyes locked on each other, she realized how badly she wanted him to kiss her, to ease her backward and lean over her, taking her mouth with his. She wanted him to take her right now, right here in his truck on the side of the highway. Hell, her panties even grew damp with the idea.
Chance inhaled sharply and she felt him physically tense. She gazed in shock as his eyes changed instantly, one second a warm chocolate brown, the next solid black with no white showing at all.
She climbed hurriedly off his lap and before she lost her nerve, she offered, “Thank you for everything. For picking me up and taking me into your home. Thank you for the bath and bandaging my feet and carrying me around so they wouldn’t get worse. Thank you for breakfast and letting me sleep in.” She grinned. “And I really enjoyed lunch and your beautiful cabin.”
She watched his Adam’s apple dip low in his throat as he swallowed hard. He’d closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, and when he reopened them they’d gone back to his normal warm brown. He stared at her intently for only a moment before turning his gaze back to the road and putting the truck in gear. “Don’t thank me for shit that you deserve. Any man would be honored to give you those things, I was just the lucky one who got to do it.
The rest of the ride was silent as Isabelle pondered over his words. “I’m just the lucky one who got to do it.” Who said stuff like that? Her Chance, that’s who.
Too soon they were pulling up in front of Aunty Ruby’s. The driveway in front of her big old farmhouse was plowed, the snow sparkling in the sunlight peeking through the quickly dispersing clouds. When she glanced at Chance he was staring at the house and property in awe.
“Nice spread. You said she lives here all alone?”
“Mostly. She takes on a few farmhands in the summer for the crop season, but the rest of the time it’s just her.”
“I’m impressed.” He pointed a finger at her. “Stay there, I’ll come around.”
“No!”
He stilled at her words, snapping his dark eyes to her.
“I think…I think we should say goodbye here.”
The front door banged and Isabelle looked over to see Aunty Ruby standing on the front porch, shotgun in hand, squinting at Chance’s truck. Quickly, she rolled down her window and waved. “Aunty Ruby, it’s me!”
Ruby mouthed an “Oh” before waving them inside.
Window rolled back up, Isabelle turned to Chance. “I don’t know why, but saying goodbye to you is harder than I expected. I mean, I only just met you yesterday, but it feels like…”
Her words tapered off as he finished, “Like I’ve known you my whole life.” He wasn’t looking at her though. He was staring straight ahead. “You’re right. It’s probably best we end it here.”
His agreement hit her in the belly like a punch to the gut, but what did she expect? That he’d beg her to go back to his cabin? That he’d ask her to be his? She shook her head. “I really do want to thank you for everything.”
He angled his head so he was looking at the farmhouse again. “You want help getting inside?”
His abruptness caught her off guard. “N-no.”
“Okay. Well…goodbye Isabelle…whatever your last name is.”
“It’s Stiffarm.”
He turned and looked at her. “Goodbye, Isabelle Stiffarm.”
Chest aching and the back of her eyes stinging she licked her lips. “Goodbye Chance…” She waited for him to supply his last name.
“Howlett. Chance Howlett.”
Smiling, she extended her hand for a shake and he reluctantly accepted it, folding his large fingers over hers.
“Thank you for everything. I hope you have a good life, Chance Howlett.”
His eyes never left hers as he responded, “Same.”