His Most Scandalous Secret. Susan Crosby
He bent to capture her gaze. “Are you all right?”
She made herself smile as she stood. “I’m starving.”
“Let’s go, then.”
Chase realized he was more aware of his surroundings than he’d ever been as they walked to the restaurant. It wouldn’t be dark for a couple of hours yet, making it easier to be on the lookout for Stone Man, reminding Chase that Les hadn’t gotten back to him with information on the teenager or on Dodger yet.
He let the thought go. The cool summer evening seemed made for holding hands and strolling. But strolling was a bad idea, according to Tessa’s lecture, and he’d also promised himself no hand-holding. He was trying hard to remember why.
They walked several blocks without speaking. “Are you worn out?” he asked finally, curious about her silence.
“Kind of. The kids were great, though, weren’t they? I loved the way the girls wouldn’t let the boys joke about anything. As soon as the boys got as serious as the girls, they really accomplished a lot.”
“It’s a good group.”
“Thanks to you.”
“These kids weren’t hopeless to start with. My goal has always been to hook them in before they get involved in things they shouldn’t And some of the best counselors we’ve had are gang members who’ve matured out of the gangs. They don’t pull any punches when they describe what the life is really like. But kids who don’t have much of a family life are the most vulnerable, because they’re searching for a connection, and they’ll settle for what they can get. We have to catch them at the right moment.” They stopped at a traffic signal. He found himself eyeing the drivers as each car passed.
“Tell me about Sarge. How did you meet him?” she asked.
“I was assigned to his foster care.”
“Why?”
The old hurts should have faded some by now, but they hadn’t. It didn’t seem as if they ever would. “I never knew my father. My mother disappeared when I was fourteen. To this day I don’t know what happened to her. I was made a ward of the court. Sarge had just retired from the force and decided to take me in, and then other boys through the years. But I was his first. We have almost a father and son bond, at least as much of one as I’ll ever know.”
“Is that why you started the Center?”
“How do you know I started it?”
“It’s public record, Chase. I did a lot of research on the Center and you before I applied for the job. I had to know what I was getting into, especially since I would be supporting myself fully for the first time. I couldn’t afford a job that might not be there in a few months.”
When they settled at their table at the restaurant and had ordered drinks, he questioned her about being on her own for the first time.
“I was overprotected.” She grimaced. “That’s an understatement. I was smothered. And good daughter that I was, I didn’t venture away from the family fold even when I went to college or when I got a full-time job. My brother is disabled, and my mother can’t always cope with him. So it fell to me a lot.”
“Why did you make the move now?”
The waitress set two bottles of beer and some chips and salsa on the table. Tessa took a long sip before she answered. If Sarge had figured her out already, how long until Chase did?
“They say women have their midlife crisis ten years earlier than men,” she said. “That’s the only explanation I can give without sounding extremely selfish. My brother needs to learn to help himself, but my mother doesn’t see that. My parents argue about it quite a bit. Anyway, it’s time to test my wings. It’s hard to have a social life when your parents grill every guy, practically demanding proof of clean police, DMV and medical records.”
“Social life,” Chase mused. “Remind me of what that is.”
She swirled a finger around the lip of the bottle as she tilted her head and smiled at him. “Interaction between man and woman. Movies. Meals. Conversation. Physical contact.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, toying with her fingers before linking them with his and holding tight “I had the best of intentions about tonight,” he said, his voice gruff. “But no willpower.”
“I’m so glad.”
“I don’t want to mislead you. My life—”
“Social contact, Chase. That’s all this is. It’s good for both of us.”
He released her hand and sat back, eyeing her as he swigged his beer. “So, would your parents approve of me?”
My parents would have me kidnapped and taken to a deprogrammer.
“Are you ready to order?”
The waitress’s intrusion sent the conversation in a different direction, and they didn’t speak of personal history again. She’d been encouraged by the apparent laughter in his eyes earlier at the Center and so tried again, but couldn’t tease the slightest smile out of him. Deciding not to push it, she settled back in her chair and relaxed, enjoying his observations on life, admiring the tough stand he took on an individual’s accountability for his or her own actions. He lived in a black-and-white world—it was the only way he could function—while hers was much more gray, with room to change her opinion, given the right debate.
They stayed at the table for hours. The restaurant was obviously a favorite hangout of Chase’s, as he seemed to know almost everyone there. Curious looks lit on her, but no one teased him or pried. They just welcomed her to their world, making her feel at home.
The ocean breezes nipped at them as they walked to her apartment later. Warmed by his hand wrapped around hers, she lifted her face to the wind and smiled as her hair blew behind her.
“Luis asked me that first day,” he said, “if you were one of those Amazons he’d studied in school. I told him you weren’t tall enough. But you do look like I’ve always suspected a Valkyrie would.”
“Weren’t they women warriors, too, like the Amazons?”
“Not quite. They chose the warriors who were invited to die heroically in battle.”
She flashed him a grin. “What tipped you off? My bloodthirsty cries?”
“You do have a powerful set of, uh, lungs.”
“Why, Mr. Ryan. You’re flirting with me! I’m flattered.”
“You have wisdom, Tessa. And strength. That’s why I think of you as a Valkyrie.”
“Even though I could bring about a warrior’s destruction?” The image planted itself in her mind and stayed. She didn’t like it.
“I guess he’d die happy.”
She squeezed his hand. “I thought I was supposed to be the idealist here, and you the pragmatist. If you get fanciful on me, I won’t know how to deal with you.”
“That suddenly holds appeal for me.”
They entered the tiny lobby of her apartment house, the stairs directly in front of them. She turned around and climbed the steep steps backward, watching him, trying to read his expression as she clasped his hand tighter with each step up.
“You’re going to trip on your skirt,” Chase cautioned, tension creeping into him.
When she almost did trip, she let go of his hand, then scooped up the fabric and held it almost to her knees.
“So you do have legs. I’ve been wondering,” he said.
“Have you?”
“Yeah. You never wear jeans?”
“Rarely.