Page 9 of Beauty and the Grease (Midlife Meet Cute #4)

Jenny

Butterflies. I have honest-to-goodness butterflies in my stomach thinking about meeting Chase at the bar.

I spruced myself up using the free emergency toiletries kit provided by the front desk before layering my cardigan over a stretchy tank top and black yoga pants gifted by Gina’s friend.

Apparently, Ameriel brought a suitcase stuffed to the zippers for a two-night retreat.

I don’t even know the woman and she gave me a shirt and two pairs of pants.

Her only attached string was to ask me to add her party planning business cards to the salon waiting area.

She lives in Spring Creek, nearby to Derby, so a good local reference for our customers.

I spot Chase near the bar. It’s positioned in a space off the main lobby near chairs arranged in conversational groupings. A large stone fireplace angles at one corner of the room casting a cozy glow.

Good-looking people surround Chase. Because, of course. Why are sales people so danged good-looking? They’re like catalog models. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a print catalog. Maybe those models all moved to sales.

The moment Chase sees me, I sense it. My body vibrates. I’m twenty-two again, with thicker, redder hair and nothing to lose.

He grins and those butterflies riot. They’re flapping like crazy, wrecking my Zen yoga vibe. How is it he’s graying and older but still as hot as I remember?

“Did you have spare clothes in your truck?” Chase looks me over.

Suddenly, I can’t breathe. He knows me. He knows my body. “No.” The words choke out. “A generous yoga aficionado gave them to me.”

“Why am I not surprised? People love giving you things.”

“They do?”

“Remember your apartment with Amber? You furnished the whole place without spending a dime.”

“The red couch! What a find. The couch, the chairs, and the giant bird lamp all came from guys moving out of the dorms. Why is it girls always take their stuff but the guys leave it behind?” I laugh. “Were we even dating then?”

Panic crosses Chase’s face.

“Sorry,” I say. Nobody here knows we used to date. Then again, does it matter? As long as they don’t know the rest of the story.

Chase runs a hand through his hair and my traitorous body zings to attention all over again. “No worries. What are you drinking these days?”

“Besides lemon water and Ensure?”

“You don’t drink Ensure.” He rolls his eyes. “That’s for—”

“Old people? I’m happy to inform you, health shakes are used for a variety of reasons, at any age.” This is not smooth. Why am I explaining any of this? Oh right, because I rarely go out since I’m always working. “If the bar has any local beers on tap, I’ll take one. IPA, brown ale, whatever.”

He nods and reports to the bar. Linda, Ms. CFO, fills the vacant space. She glimmers in a gemstone green silk shirt tucked into jeans. A Martini glass rests in her bejeweled hand. Linda After Dark.

We chit-chat a few minutes about essentially nothing until Chase returns, handing me a frothy glass of amber liquid.

His posture straightens as he addresses Linda formally, but with a charming grin.

He’s boyish and mature all at once. How does he manage that?

Linda at one point fiddles with her earring and a twinkly laugh escapes.

She bids us a good evening and moves on.

“Sooo, you’ve got Linda wrapped around your pinkie.”

“What? No way. She scares me.”

“I don’t believe you. Your charm is impeccable.”

“Impeccable charm? Me? Hardly.”

It’s like he doesn’t even know himself. “I remember you getting whatever you wanted with that smile smoothing over your snarky comments. You could offend someone to their face and they’d still give you the shirt off their back.”

“You’re the one someone gave half their yoga wardrobe to.”

“Well, maybe I learned a thing or two from you.” The words are out before I can snatch them back. “I mean, probably I did. Maybe.”

“You didn’t need me to teach you anything. You were always destined to succeed.” He looks away as he says this, like it’s not even debatable.

Chase sees me as successful. This surprises me. Should it?

“How was corporate playtime?”

Chase nearly spits his drink. “Tedious, as expected. Though, I got in a little face time with Cliff.”

“Ew, what was that like?”

“Unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant, but worthwhile to keep the job you hate?”

He shushes me, but he’s laughing.

It’s like we have a secret. No, wait, we do have a secret. A pretty big one.

More coworkers wander over. I play my part as his guest, adding little punches of commentary to make up our fake reunited life, all based on truth.

We met again accidentally. His car is at my shop.

Next weekend we’re headed to his cousin’s lake house.

Totally threw that in there based on having gone there together once.

I have no idea if his cousin still has the house.

“Will you be at dinner tomorrow?” Angelina asks me.

I recall telling Chase I was all in. “I think so.”

“I know it’s super weird, but the C-suite looks close at the total package.” She lowers her voice. “I’m flirting with Anvik for the weekend. He’s Linda’s favorite and moving up fast. Cliff thinks I’m a floozy, so he’ll respect me more if he sees me with Anvik.”

First of all, who calls a woman a floozy in any year post 1920? Second, is Anvik a willing partner?

Any response I have is likely unwelcome advice about not fake dating to appease toxic bosses. And yet this ruse with Chase isn’t much different. Okay, it’s the same thing, minus floozies.

For a split second, I feel bad about deceiving Angelina on why I’m here with Chase. But I don’t mind fooling the corporate jerks who treat Chase and younger staff like Angelina as if they’re pawns on a corporate chessboard.

I catch Chase looking at me, all of me. I don’t hate it. I don’t hate a lot of what’s happening tonight, which is a problem.

When Chase and I were together, our relationship became my identity. I loved being with him, but I also loved being on his arm and gaining attention for my artwork from his family’s rich friends. I wore the pretty clothes and ate the lavish food. It wasn’t hard playing the part.

Then all that glitz and attention went away, leaving me emptier than I’d ever been. Directionless. Heartbroken.

In hindsight, I realized I never truly fit in Chase’s circle of influence. So many of them focused only on their money—how to make more of it, what they spent it on, what they refused to spend it on. They donated to charity only when they were recognized for it publicly.

I made excuses then because Chase was generous and kind and able to talk about things other than himself. But I’d lost myself.

Playing at dating Chase again, where does this lead? I have no idea. Tonight is bringing too many memories into active recall.

By the time dinner rolls around, in a dining area with two buffet lines, I’d heard enough about boats, vacation homes in Traverse City, and trips to golf resorts (why always golf?) to last me a good infinity of decades.

Chase keeps checking in to ask how I’m doing. If I need another drink or water. To his credit, he doesn’t mention Ensure.

During after-dinner drinks, a sales guy whose name I forget drones on about the Ivy League schools his children were accepted to.

“Your daughter played softball,” Chase says. “They made the state finals two years back, right?”

“Softball, yeah,” he slurs. “Her team made state and lost. Fine by me since she wouldn’t have time for playing around in college. A school in Ohio offered her a sports scholarship. As if that would ever happen—a state school,” he snickers.

Chase blinks, appearing to gather his thoughts. “Emma, my daughter, loves softball. She joined her first team this year while my son has been playing soccer since he could walk. I try to see them both play, but you know, it’s tough with the job to get there.”

“Believe me, you’re not missing much. Kids’ sports are the worst. A money pit and the parents all think they’re major league coaches.

” He tosses back the rest of his drink and claps a hand at Chase’s shoulder.

“Ride that out a few more years. Girls get tired of sports and just want to date and play makeup on YouTube. You’ll be free in no time. ”

I don’t like this guy. I don’t like him one bit.

He walks off in a haphazard zig-zag.

Chase’s hand gently gravitates to my back, steering us from the dispersing crowd. “Thank you for being here. Please don’t feel like you have to stay.”

Looking into his eyes dispels my agitation. “You fed me while I’m stranded.” I give him a good-natured grin, still acutely aware of his hand on my back. I don’t want him to move it. I’m not sure if I want him to know I like his touch. “Let’s walk around, maybe get some fresh air.”

The modern building offers long windowed halls leading to outdoor nooks and patios. We find a door with a sign taped to it warning to watch your step for storm debris. Outside, stars appear in the now clear night sky.

Chase’s body uncoils when we hit the cool air. “Nice night. I can’t believe the storm was only a few hours ago. The fallen branch on the road was a close call. Are you usually alone when you drive the tow truck?”

“Yeah. Ole Beasty is a solid medium-duty truck. But don’t worry about me. I’m a grown woman.”

“I can see that.”

Chase consumes me with his full attention. My bones quake. Did he mean to say it all deep and knowing, like he knows I’m a woman and a grown one?

Chase has a way of focusing attention to make a person feel special. Wanted. Valued. It’s all coming back. “We used to watch the stars all the time. I…liked that.” I almost say something worse, like I missed that, or I miss you.

I haven’t missed Chase for years. I spent so much time missing Chase before I mended the heartbreak. Though I’ve never tested whether a shattered heart can truly become one piece again.

“Those were good times.” He’s still looking at me.