Page 9 of Tempt (Peachwood Falls #1)

M egan

The door shuts with a boom.

Point taken, Maggie.

Chase works his jaw back and forth, watching me like I’m the enemy. I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness, hoping it irritates him as much as his behavior irritates me.

His gaze narrows.

I smile. Fucker.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” I say, jumping into the thick of the matter. “I’m not begging to be here. As a matter of fact, I don’t even want to be here . So don’t act like you’re doing me a huge favor by letting me watch your daughter.”

He takes a breath and grabs the back of a chair in front of him. The severity of his features eases. A wariness, a cautious curiosity settles in its place.

“Tucker does basic mechanic work,” Chase says. “Have him look at your car today.”

I lift a brow. “That’s what you want to spend the next ten minutes talking about?”

He releases the chair and then paces the kitchen.

Frustration drips through my veins as I watch him blatantly not talk . Not look at me. Refrain from giving any indication that he wants to have this conversation.

If that’s the way he wants it, fine. I’ll go back to Dallas and get on with my life.

“Your point is taken,” I say. “When your mom comes back, I’ll let her know this isn’t going to work for me.”

He stops pacing and sighs. “Megan …”

“What did you say to me last night? Good luck to ya ? Well, good luck to ya, Chase.”

He rolls his eyes. “Will you shut up?”

I gasp. “No, I will not.”

“Of course not. What was I thinking?”

“At least I’m not acting like a child. Are you sure your mom didn’t need a babysitter for you ?”

He throws his hands in the air.

I move around the room—careful to stay on the opposite side of the island from Chase. My heart pounds as the words I just spoke echo back at me.

What are you doing, Megan? Don’t act like this.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” I say, stopping beside the sink. “I’m just … worked up.”

He pulls his hands down his face. “That makes two of us.”

The tension between us thickens. It’s heavier and more cumbersome. Even if we’re firing back and forth, the levity we've shared seems to have evaporated.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, blowing out a breath. “You just surprised me.”

I see my opening—the sliver of an opportunity to bring some light into this conversation—and take it.

“When I walked in on you practically naked?” I ask.

Chase stops in his tracks and smirks. The longer I say nothing, the deeper his smirk grows. The deeper his smirk grows, the more his shoulders relax and the lines in his handsome face ease.

“What?” I ask, playing it cool. “Do you want me to be embarrassed that I saw you in your boxers?”

He shrugs.

“I’m not,” I say, hoping my voice is void of the tremble in my stomach. “I think your romantic, inspirational car repair side was my favorite. It turns out that I prefer you naked and not talking.”

“Maybe that’s our problem.”

“Excuse me?”

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his grin slipping. “Nothing. Never mind.”

I don’t know where to go with this. We aren’t getting anywhere, and I don’t foresee progress. We might have partially defused the situation, but the problem remains.

The thought of disappointing Maggie—and my mother—hurts my heart, but what can I do? This is out of my hands—even if I wanted to stay. And, at the moment, I don’t.

Finally, he sighs and folds his arms over his chest. “You called me a grumpy cat. What kind of a description is that? A grumpy cat ?”

“It’s a meme you would know if you had social media.”

Shit. This is why I didn’t want information, Calista!

A shadow falls across his face for a split second.

“But I didn’t say you were a grumpy cat,” I say hurriedly, hoping he doesn’t catch my slipup. “I said you have the personality of one, and, you know, my observation wasn’t wrong.”

He narrows his eyes. “Chris led you into the middle of cornfields, and you called him a damn superhero. And I get a grumpy fucking cat?”

“What does Chris have to do with this?”

He rubs his forehead.

“ Again ,” I say, emphasizing the word, “I’ll tell Maggie you’ll need to find another nanny . I can’t imagine staying here and arguing with you for a month. We’d kill each other.”

And probably without hate fucking and then makeup sex, to boot. Because that’s my luck.

“Megan …”

For the first time, buried just beneath his steely exterior, there’s a flash of vulnerability. It’s just a flash—a quick blur of emotion—but it’s there.

He covers it as quickly as it appears.

“What?” I ask.

A truck rumbles into the driveway. We turn toward the window to see Maggie making her way to a silver truck.

Chase watches as an older man, whom I recognize as Lonnie, and a young girl with long, dark hair hop out. That must be Kennedy.

“Thank you for helping me last night,” I say, turning my attention back to him. “I appreciate it. To be safe, I’ll get someone to look at the car before I head to the airport.”

“Well, look who we have here,” Lonnie says as he walks through the mudroom door. “Megan Kramer, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

I smile at the teenager beside Lonnie as he hugs me. The buckles of his overalls are cold against my skin—almost as cool as Kennedy’s reception.

“How are you, Lonnie?” I ask.

“Good. Ready to see my girlie Kate, that’s for damn sure,” he says. “I haven’t hugged my daughter in far too long.”

“I’m sure she’ll be just as happy to see you.” I pivot to Kennedy and smile. I don’t know what to say to her, but I can’t not say anything at all. “You must be Kennedy.”

She eyes me with a heavy dose of typical teenager suspicion. “Are you my babysitter ?”

That’s how we’re playing this, huh? “I?—”

“Hey, Ken,” Chase says, inserting himself into our little circle. He pulls her against his side. “You’re back early. How was brunch?”

I breathe, relieved to have a moment to get my bearings.

How do I answer that ? I’m not her babysitter—but Maggie doesn’t know that yet. Neither does Lonnie.

I gulp. This might get awkward .

“It was brunch,” Kennedy says, keeping an eye on me. “They had baklava this week. I brought you some but left it in Pap’s truck.”

Chase kisses her on the side of the head. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“Is that your car out there?” Kennedy asks me, pulling away from her dad.

I nod.

“You have an Iyala Nails bag in the back,” she says. “The turquoise tote from the spring collection.”

“The turquoise was much prettier than the pink, despite popular demand. I have the pink one, but I never use it.”

Her eyes widen. She has her dad’s green eyes . “You have the pink one? That was impossible to get. The turquoise one was too, but no one could get the pink one because it came with the summer manicure set and the Relatively Rare red polish.”

My smile is wide. “You know a lot about Iyala polishes.”

“Yeah. Well, not just the Iyala ones. I love all nail stuff. But the Iyala special collections are always the best.”

“I’ve always been partial to the winter collections. They’re always a bit more magical. Don’t get me wrong, the summer ones are great. But the winter ones …”

“The winter ones are always different. Not just red or pink or orange. They come up with some cool colors for the winter collections. They’re kind of funky.”

I nod, delighted that she picked up on the things I strove to achieve in my years with Iyala Polishes. “Yes. Exactly.”

Kennedy grins, satisfied. I’ve passed her inspection .

I’m reveling in my success when I realize I don’t need to pass her inspection because I’m not staying.

I clear my throat and avoid Chase’s gaze. “I need to get back to the hotel, Maggie. I have a few calls to make this afternoon.” Namely, to buy a ticket home . “Can I give you a call later today?”

Maggie quickly glares at her son before settling her smile on me. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

A lump settles in my throat, and I turn toward Lonnie.

“Good to see you again, Lonnie,” I say. “It was nice to meet you too, Kennedy.”

Her brows wrinkle. “Yeah. You, too.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Chase says, his voice rough.

Now he’s being nice? It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes and tell him not to bother.

“I’ll see you all later,” I say, waving as I make my way across the room.

“I hope so,” Maggie says.

Chase holds the door for me as I step outside.

The air is blustery, filled with the promise of winter in the distance. I slip my hands into my pockets and hurry down the sidewalk. If I walk fast enough, maybe Chase won’t follow.

I’m reaching for the door handle when he speaks.

“ Megan .”

“What?”

I pop open the door before looking at him.

His eyes are foggy as if a storm is rolling through them. He lets his arms hang at his sides, and his jaw slips.

Why do you have to be such a dick?

At first, this situation was entertaining. Riling him up was fun and watching him squirm made my day. But now? Now that I’ve seen Maggie again, hugged Lonnie, and met Kennedy—it’s not such a joking matter. And neither is the bullshit he was saying about not trusting me.

Because it is bullshit. I don’t know why he doesn’t want me here, but that’s not it.

And it’s not my problem.

I wait for him to explain why he stopped me, but he doesn’t.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say, climbing into my car.

“ Wait .”

I sigh, resting my head on the headrest. I squeeze my eyes closed for a second. “What do you want, Chase?”

“I think things got away from us today.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

But it doesn’t change anything.

“Look, I’m going back to my hotel,” I say. “I’ll tell your mom tonight that I can’t do this. I’ll take the blame.”

“Oh, she’ll put the blame where it’s due regardless of what you tell her.”

I can’t do anything about that.

I smile at the handsome man despite my irritation with his behavior. “Good luck to ya.”

Then I close the door, turn my car on, and back out of the driveway.

As my tires hit the gravel, my stomach twists into a tight knot.

I need to walk away from this whole thing.

I know that. Hell, I want that .

So why does it feel like a loss?

I shrug and press harder on the gas pedal.

Good luck to me, too .