Chase took his most recent paycheck and rented a car. He met Sookie outside her place the next evening. He was surprised to find it wasn't a National Guard pilot who descended the steps to meet him, but a tight little cowgirl. Sookie had it all: the red leather boots, the red checkered shirt that tied around her midriff (without ever really covering said midriff), and a pair of light denim Daisy Dukes that taut bottom of hers barely filled. She had her short chocolate hair styled to one side, and it rippled with her enhanced curls beneath the brim of her red cowboy hat.

Chase rose up out of the car and whistled as she strutted down the steps and struck a pose for him. "You clean up nice," he said approvingly.

"So do you," she returned. No tongue in cheek, no sarcasm—just the truth as she perceived it, and a clear hint of admiration in her voice on top of that.

Chase's chest swelled. It was the best fucking compliment a woman had ever given him. He moved quickly to pop the car door open for her, and she let him hold it as she folded herself inside. Another risk, another victory. They both knew damn well that Sookie was perfectly capable of holding her own doors.

"Where we going?" she asked as he joined her inside the car.

"Let's just say you're dressed perfectly for what I have in mind," Chase said as he backed them out of the driveway.

The ride to Red Hook, the next town over, was short and sweet—or at least, that's how it felt, having Sookie there in the car with him. She regaled him about her shift, somehow making the most routine motions of her day perilously exciting, and Chase realized that was how Sookie perceived her job. She loved flying with all her heart, and no day she spent in the sky in service to others could possibly be boring.

When the conversation lulled naturally, he reached across to squeeze her knee. He kept his hand there the rest of the way to Red Hook.

"Oh, God," Sookie said as they pulled up to the bar. "The Red Hook Hootenanny? Chase, what the hell have you done?"

"Don't pretend like this isn't the greatest date idea in the history of date ideas," he said proudly as he got out of the car. Strings of lights crisscrossed the bar's deck and patio and illuminated the evening, lending everything a festive glow that the smoke-obscured full moon could no longer provide. In fact, the lingering haze only made the lights seem to blaze all the brighter.

There were scores of people moving about, conversing and laughing with drinks in their hands as the jukebox played the night air. "Want a drink?" Chase snatched Sookie's arm and steered her toward the outdoor bar. “Your post-shift beer's on me, today."

"You keep using that word," Sookie said suddenly. Chase glanced sidelong at her as he divvied out the cash for two Buds. "Date," she clarified. "You keep saying date."

"Sorry. Would you prefer hootenanny?"

Sookie laughed, swatted his arm, and took her beer. The moment was successfully diffused, although Chase reflected that she was right. He really needed to get his terminology in order if they were going to make this fling work.

They sat down together at a nearby picnic table and watched as a group of self-styled cowboys tried to impress a gaggle of ladies with their square dancing.

"You know, I used to go to these things all the time as a kid," Chase mentioned as he leaned back. Sookie dropped her hat down on the table and lounged beside him, crossing her legs and swinging her ankle.

"Really? In Alaska?"

"No. Montana. My great-uncle had a ranch there." His mouth twisted ruefully. "Man, I loved that son of a bitch. He'd never let you tell it to him outright, but I like to think he knew where things stood between us. At the very least, he had to know I loved him more than I loved my old man."

"You weren't close with your father?" Sookie guessed.

Chase snorted. "That's the understatement of the century."

She was quiet for a long moment as they watched couples start to pair off and take to the dance floor. When he glanced over to check that she was all right, he was startled to see her eyes clouded over with sadness. He doubted she was about to cry, but he had never seen her misty-eyed before, and it startled him. The powerful urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close for the rest of the evening nearly overwhelmed him.

"I wasn't . . . I mean, I wasn't close with my father, either. With either of my parents," she said. "But I remember that when I was younger, we used to go all the time to country dances like this. I really cherished them because it felt like one of the only times we could just relax and let loose as a family . . . now that I'm older, I'm guessing the alcohol had something to do with it. It's almost enough to make me wish my parents had been drinkers." She paused again, sighed, and took a sip of her beer. "That was before the fire. I assume Hank told you all about that."

"I knew he was orphaned at a young age," Chase said cautiously. "I suppose it makes sense that you would have been, too."

Sookie stared at him incredulously. Then she burst out laughing: a deep, full-throated, delighted sound. Chase exhaled a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. For a second there, he’d been afraid she would throw her drink on him and leave because he’d made light of her past—thing of it was, he wasn't making light of it. If the conversation was heavy, he only wanted to lessen the burden Sookie carried so that she could actually feel she could open up to him.

"Phew!" she sighed and wiped her eyes in the aftermath of her episode. "You know, Chase, you really are something else. You somehow always manage to say the exact wrong thing, but it's always the thing that makes me feel better."

"Hey, now. Sometimes I get it right," he disputed.

Sookie just shook her head. "Let's skip the D and M tonight, if it's all the same to you. I'd rather throw a few back and then get thrown around the dance floor."

"Happy to oblige," Chase said. He downed his beer and signaled a passing member of the wait staff for two more . . . drawing a cry of outrage from Sookie when he revealed they were for him. Two more beers quickly followed, and then a free round of shots purchased for every man and woman, courtesy of one of the drunker cowboys.

Pretty soon, Chase's world was spinning, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He had Sookie in his arms and he was twirling her around and around beneath the fairy lights, and she was laughing with her head tipped back as they went. It wasn't a dance in any particular style; Chase supposed they could join with the line dance off to the side and try for something more appropriate to the setting, but the urge to break formation after falling in line the past few years of his life, now, with Sookie, was too powerful to ignore.

When the jukebox slowed its tempo down, so did he. He pulled Sookie in close, and when she pillowed her head on his chest, his heart nearly melted from the proximity.

They kept swaying even after the song ended. He gazed down at her and saw that her eyes were closed peacefully. "You falling asleep on me?" he asked.

She drew back, raised herself up on her toes, and kissed him. "Want to go home with me?" she suggested quietly.

Did she even need to ask? "You know I do."

It was only later, as Chase moved between her legs, serenaded by her sighs and moans, that he realized they hadn't escaped the evening's turn toward the deep and meaningful after all. No matter how he changed up their rhythm—no matter how he might flip their positions—the sex they kept coming back to was slow and tender. No matter how impersonal he tried to make it, she pressed the heat of her body against his and undulated her curves until they were one. He couldn't help groaning, or reaching down between thrusts to stroke her sweat-soaked hair, or let his fingers drag worshipfully along any shuddering part of her that was in reach. He was powerless to take charge like he had so many times before, and for once, Sookie didn't fight him for the fun of it. They had dropped more than their clothes at the door, and Chase had never felt so naked.

I have to end it, he thought in wonder. The next time their hips collided, the thought was blasted out of his mind. He felt like he was viewing his own realization behind a glass case at a museum, like it was ancient already, a relic from a time before he had known with certainty that he would not end it. If every room in the museum represented a part of history, then the thought of ending his fling with the gasping pilot was dated:

Before Chase Kingston fell in love with Sookie Logan.