CHAPTER EIGHT
I took the only escape I could think of. “Can I get you something to drink? We have water, milk, and possibly apple juice in boxes.”
“I’d love some water.”
As I hopped up and hurried into the kitchen, I wondered if he knew the water would be from our tap. No bubbles, nothing sparkling, and nothing infused with any kind of fruit. When I walked in, I realized I hadn’t cleaned up the remainder of Zelda’s version of sharing.
“Did you need help?”
Chase so startled me I nearly dropped the Swiffer mop. “I’m fine. I just realized there’s some mess. From earlier. That I need to clean.” I must have been seriously impressing him with my mastery of the English language.
“I can get the drinks. Where are the glasses?”
“In that cabinet there. Left of the sink. You’ll find them behind the sippy cups and bottles.”
He wasn’t anywhere near me, and I was still shaking. Shivers skated up and down my spine. Like someone was dripping ice water on my bare back, a single drop at a time. Would I ever feel totally calm around him?
Part of me whispered that I wouldn’t want that. I liked the physical sensations he caused.
“What kind of sorcery is this?” he muttered, and I turned to see him struggling with the cabinet lock.
“The whole house is childproofed. But somehow they keep managing to get in.” It was one of my mother’s favorite jokes, so it just sort of slipped out. It did make him smile, though.
It was too late when I realized what I was doing. He stayed put, and I leaned in close to undo the latch. I should have moved back.
I didn’t.
“Thanks,” he murmured, feeling his breath against my still-wet hair.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered. We weren’t touching, but it felt like we were. All I had to do was take one step back and I’d be flush against him. Or just turn my head and we’d practically be kissing.
Instead, I reached inside the cabinet. I almost exploded in flames when he put his hand on my wrist. “I said I could get it.” His voice was low, gruff. Exciting.
“I’m supposed to be the hostess.” He didn’t respond, and he didn’t let go of my arm. My skin pulsated underneath his touch. Gulping, I extricated myself, pulling my arm free. Even though I didn’t want to.
Which was surprising.
“You could mop. If you want to help,” I said when I could speak again.
“Selfishly, I’m happy to let you clean up the kid puke.” I heard him put the glasses on the counter, open the freezer to look for ice, and break out cubes from a tray. Then he opened the refrigerator. “Where’s the water?”
“In the faucet.” I sneaked a glance at him, sure he would be grossed out or surprised. He was neither. He just lifted the tap and filled the glasses.
“So is this a new service you’re offering all your fans? Free babysitting?”
He let out a short bark of laughter. “Um, no. I don’t even take pictures when I’m asked.”
“Really? Why not?” That seemed harmless as far as fan interactions went.
“A couple of reasons.” He leaned against the counter, his drink in hand. “When I’m filming, on a typical day almost every minute is scheduled. And if I’m stopping thirty times to take selfies, that adds up and puts me behind. Which isn’t fair to the people who are waiting for me, and it isn’t very professional. Plus, when you take a picture with a fan, they immediately upload it to social media, and then there’s electronic evidence of where you are right that minute. I don’t want people to know that. Especially not tabloids.”
“I have to tell you that I was surprised when you showed up without a trail of paparazzi behind you.”
“They’re easy to avoid. There’s some places it can’t be helped—big events, award ceremonies, movie premieres. There’s certain restaurants they stake out. Which is why celebrities go there. They want to be photographed. Those actors and singers you see complaining about their lack of privacy? Those are the ones who have a paparazzo on their payroll, and they pay them to show up and take pictures everywhere they go. You can absolutely avoid them and have real privacy.”
“What about the airport? They always have pictures of celebrities going there.”
“Again, that’s on purpose. The airlines offer private entrances and will make elaborate arrangements to get you out of the airport so no one even knows you were there.”
That wasn’t what I had thought. I thought stars like him couldn’t even walk outside the door without being accosted.
“I’m usually fine in big cities like Los Angeles or New York. The people there generally leave you alone. The problem is when I go to small towns. But wear a hat, put on some sunglasses, and people overlook you.”
“I doubt that,” I said. Because there was something special about Chase. I had seen it earlier when he’d had my siblings eating out of his hand. Most people were just average. You didn’t notice them when you were in a store or walking down a street. But Chase was different. It was like he gave off a special glow. I couldn’t stop looking at him or being drawn to him, and I’d witnessed him having that effect on every person on set yesterday. He was larger than life. I couldn’t imagine any scenario where he’d be out in public and wouldn’t draw the eye of every woman in the vicinity.
Finally finished, I threw away the pad and returned the rest of the mop to the pantry. I washed my hands and grabbed a paper towel to dry them off. Then Chase handed me my glass.
“To new beginnings,” he said, holding his glass aloft. Would I ever get used to looking at him? To not having my breath catch every time our eyes met?
I nodded and clinked my glass against his. My mouth had gone so dry that I was parched. Like I’d just spent a week crossing the Sahara.
If there was a seductive way to drink a glass of water, my mouth decided to do the opposite.
I tipped my drink back too quickly and almost choked. I put the glass on the counter, and Chase patted me on the back a couple of times. I waved him off. “I’m okay.” Mortified and wanting to run into the bathroom to hide, but okay.
“Yeah, I hate when I’m drinking and the ice just attacks my face,” he teased.
He was funny. Why did he have to be funny?
“Yesterday when I assured you I was normal, I may have exaggerated slightly.” I was obviously an insecure freak who should be kept away from regular people.
“I think you’re kind of amazing,” Chase said, reaching out with his hand like he was going to touch my face. I backed up until I hit the sink. I braced my arms behind me, trying not to collapse in a heap. Because even though he hadn’t made contact, my skin felt like he had.
He put his hand down, his expression puzzled. A few beats passed before he said, “I make you nervous, don’t I?”
Uh, understatement of the year. But his movie-star ego didn’t need to hear it. “I’m . . . I’m not nervous.”
He inched fractionally closer to me, one small movement with each loud, slow thud of my heart. “I don’t normally make girls nervous. Excited, yes. Overwhelmed. Shocked. Up for anything, usually. But not nervous.” This time he did touch me. His fingers tucked some stray hairs behind my ears. I closed my eyes and dragged in a sharp breath. All those sensations . . . I totally got the overwhelmed reaction. And the excited and shocked thing.
And possibly even the up-for-anything impulse.
I opened my eyes and tried to deny it, but now Chase stood directly in front of me, his heat warming me, pulling me in. He put his hands against the counter on either side of me.
He’d trapped me.
“I think I know why I make you nervous.”
“I told you, I’m not nervous.”
A playful smile lit up his entire face. “Like I said, you’re a terrible liar.” He focused his gaze on my lips. He ducked his head toward mine. We were almost touching. So close, but not enough. I put my right hand on his chest, but whether it was to stop him or pull him closer, I didn’t know.
It was like a scene out of my favorite movie, complete with my favorite movie star.
His lips hovered above mine, his slow, steady breaths a huge contrast to my short, shallow ones. “Zoe.” Chase whispered my name, and it sounded like both a question and a promise. It made my knees buckle, my stomach tighten, and my pulse explode.
“Wait,” I told him, pushing at his chest. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” he asked.
“The garage door,” I hissed, breaking the spell he’d cast over me. “My mom is home. You have to go. Right now.”
Although my mother had matured over the last eleven years since she’d married Duncan, I didn’t want her to meet Chase and get all fangirlie and weird or talk about her own brush with fame. It was humiliating enough in school; the last thing I wanted was for him to find out.
But he wasn’t budging. I pushed against him again, and it was like trying to move a brick wall. A hot, muscular, well-defined brick wall, but still. “I’m serious. You have to go.”
“Are you embarrassed by me?” he asked in a voice that was both bewildered and amused. But at least he finally took a step back. I grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the living room. I grabbed his jacket off the couch and shoved him toward my mom’s bedroom at the back of the house.
“That’s not it. It’s . . . difficult to explain.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be in trouble for having a boy over while you’re babysitting?”
“You just need to leave.” I opened a window, pulled out the screen, and dropped it on the ground. I’d put it back later. I indicated that Chase should use the exit I’d just provided.
“Do you seriously want me to climb out a window?”
I heard the door from the garage to the kitchen open and shut. My mom called out, “Zoe?”
Frantic, I started pushing him, trying to force him out. He laughed quietly but gave in. “I’m going, I’m going. But you have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Whatever,” I said.
He sat on the windowsill, hanging one leg over the ledge. His attention was drawn to the massive poster that hung over my mother’s bed. It hadn’t occurred to me to try and block his view or take it down. “Is that your mom?”
That stupid picture had made my life miserable for years. I would have kept it from him if I could have.
My mother called my name again. It sounded like she was coming down the hall.
I was about ready to throw all my weight against him. “Yes, it’s my mom. Now go!”
Laughing, he swung both legs through the open window and jumped the three feet to the ground, landing easily. Then he made a dramatic Shakespearean-type bow. “Till next we meet, my lady.”
Okay, it was sweet. But I still rolled my eyes and closed the window. I had just finished lowering the blinds when my mom opened the door. “Oh, there you are.”
The shock of her entering the room made my stomach clench and my heart freeze. “Sorry, I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to wake anybody up.”
She didn’t seem to buy it. She came over and yanked the blinds up. Part of me was afraid Chase would still be standing there, waiting for his chance to go all Romeo on me. Fortunately, he was gone.
And it was dark, so she didn’t notice the missing screen.
“Mama? Mama!” Zia’s voice crackled over the baby monitor. Like she’d been awake this entire time, waiting.
“Looks like your plan didn’t work,” my mom said, taking off her purse and jacket and laying them on her bed. I followed her to the girls’ room, where Zia was standing with her arms held out. My mother picked her up and rested her cheek on Zia’s corn-silk-blonde curls.
Oh, I didn’t know about that. Even if the baby had woken up, Mission Get Chase Out of the House had gone very well.
Until my favorite little saboteur took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to say, “Zo-Zo’s boyfrien’ is Cheese.”
Icy panic gripped my throat, making it impossible to respond. How did she even know that word? It wasn’t like I’d ever had boyfriends.
“Good choice,” my mom whispered as she gently rocked Zia to sleep. “My boyfriend is brick-oven-style pizza.”
“No,” Zia said, sounding fully awake. “Mommy’s boyfrien’ is Daddy.”
I couldn’t see her, but I felt my mother go still and heard her choke back a sob. Her voice was thick with emotion when she replied, “That’s right. Daddy will always be Mommy’s boyfriend.”
Zia’s words affected me, too, like a punch in the gut. Duncan had been my stepfather for ten years and had been such a good man and a good father. The only one I’d ever known. I tried not to think about how much I missed him.
“Hey, I gotta head back to school,” I told my mom, my chest feeling tight, my voice rough. I briefly wondered whether Chase had left or if I’d run into him in the front yard.
“Thank you so much,” she said as she sat in the rocking chair, trying to soothe Zia. “And I hate to do to this you, but Shelly’s aunt is still sick, and she canceled Saturday, too. Would you mind? I’m working from eleven to seven.”
I planned on meeting with a study group then, but I could reschedule. Family first. “Yeah. Of course. See you on Saturday.”
I hurried outside before Zia could rat me out further.
As I put on my seat belt and started up my car, I glanced in my rearview mirror. It was then that I realized what had happened, and I let out a groan.
After all that, Chase had forgotten his tux.