Crazy Love - Krista & Chase (15 page)

Memories, she was quickly discovering, were powerful motivators. Yesterday’s flashback-of-hotness had almost caused her to make a colossal mistake.

Luckily, when he’d placed her hand on his chest and she’d felt the power of his heartbeat beneath her palm, it had transported her right back from her walk down sexy-time lane to reality. His beating heart beneath his chest had reminded her of how her own heart had wanted to stop beating when he’d left. How hollow and painful her chest had felt without his hand warming, his kisses, his touch, his smile, his presence. She’d barely managed to survive after losing him the first time. There was no way she was going to risk herself, her heart, and her future for a few moments of erotic bliss. As good as it would feel to give in to her body’s desires, Krista knew she had to protect not only her heart, but also her soul.

Turning off the car, she realized she hadn’t even opened the can of energy drink she’d grabbed on her way out of the house yet she felt wide awake. Yesterday, when she’d gotten home from work, she’d fed and walked Bear, ate some dinner, and collapsed on her bed at seven thirty p.m. She’d been out like a light all night until woken by sounds of quiet barks and four paws brushing against her back. When she’d rolled over, she’d seen Bear, sound asleep beside her, smack dab in the middle of what she could only imagine was a dream where he was running since his front and back legs were both moving. After she saw that he was a-okay, her first thought was to roll back, close her eyes, and join him in dreamland. Instead, she resisted the tempting urge to do just that and threw her legs over the side of the bed.

Now, here she was, thirty minutes later at the high school track. She would have been here sooner but after brushing her teeth, pulling her hair up in a ponytail, and throwing on her dark navy sweats, a gray sports bra, white tank top, and her dark gray hoodie, it had taken her almost ten minutes to dig her running shoes out of her closet. The sneaky suckers were hiding behind Uggs, high heels, and several pairs of the arch-supporting work shoes she’d invested in right after starting at the hospital. Krista’s back did not appreciate the long hours on her feet.

It probably wasn’t going to appreciate her choice of footwear for this evening either, but it was just going to have to deal. Krista had found the most amazing pair of black strappy heels that were in no way arch supporting but in every way worth it. The second she’d slipped them on and stood to look in the mirror at the boutique, she’d felt like a Victoria’s Secret model walking down the runway. Sold. Sometimes a girl just needed to feel that kind of powerful rush.

Grabbing her iPod, Krista practically skipped to the entrance of the field, giddy with excitement. It had seriously been too long since she’d done this. The air, crisp on her face, felt like it was in the mid-60s—perfect for a run. She would be able to watch the sunrise and hopefully recharge herself by building her resistance to Chase. If not resistance, then at least some ironclad exit strategies for removing herself from any situation where he was in the general vicinity.

As she stepped through the entrance, she was happy to note that the gate was open. The track was the first thing she noticed. When she’d been in high school, it had just been a dirt track, but they had made improvements to it and it was now a synthetic rubber surface. She couldn’t wait to put some miles on it.

Movement caught her eye, causing her to raise her gaze slightly. There, on the other side of the field, running the track was a male figure. She could not make out the face clearly, but her body instantly recognized that run.

“You have got to be
freaking
kidding me!” Krista said loudly with a healthy dose of indignation. (Even though it was only to herself, she felt totally justified in voicing her supreme frustration!)

Chase Malone might have more commonly been known for making girls’ panties wet while onstage with a guitar strapped around his neck, singing into a microphone, but the female population that had gone to high school with Chase were privy to another, some would argue even more powerful, Chase Malone wet-panty-inducing move. His running.

Once Chase had joined the track team, the female attendance skyrocketed. It had bothered Krista at the time. In fact, they’d gotten into more than one
huge
fight over it. Chase had been hers. She’d hated it that there were girls with signs on the sidelines cheering him on.

Now, as an adult, she didn’t blame the teen girls—or adult women—one bit. How could she? The way his body moved when he was on the track was hands-down still the sexiest thing she’d ever laid her eyes on—and the very last thing she needed to be looking at today!

She knew the moment he saw her. Goose bumps broke out over her skin, and it had nothing to do with the chill of the early morning air. The closer Chase got, the more her body responded. Her core clenched and fevered arousal coursed through her veins as he kept his eyes trained on her, making her feel like the target of the heat-seeking missile of his smoldering stare.

Damn. Why did he have to have this potent of an effect on her? Irritation flooded her system at her body’s reaction. She was mad, horny, and frustrated.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a great day after all…

* * *

As Chase rounded the track for the tenth time that morning, he caught sight of something that caused his heart to slam into his ribs. Krista stood at the entrance of the field, her gorgeous red hair pulled up in a ponytail, in a hoodie and sweats that were rolled up on her calves, showcasing her tiny ankles, which for some reason had always been one of Chase’s favorite parts of her anatomy. He could feel desire spreading through him from the mere sight of her a hundred yards away. His entire body ached for her.

As he quickly closed the gap between them, he noticed two things. One, with no makeup on and her hair pulled up, she could have easily been back in high school. Two, she did
not
look happy. Chase was having the exact opposite response to her arrival. He could not be happier about this unexpected meeting.

When he got within a few yards of her, she said loudly, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, waiting until he slowed to a stop in front of her. As he removed the earphones form his ears, he replied, “My taxes.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He smiled broadly as he responded, “You asked an obvious question. I thought I would give you a creative answer.”

Since coming home, Chase had felt like he’d been walking on eggshells around Krista. Even when he’d intentionally tried to fire her up and get her talking to him, he’d still held back. What he realized yesterday after she’d left the conference room was that holding back and treating her with kid gloves was getting him nowhere. In fact, he felt like it might even be causing her to pull further away from him. Which was the last thing he wanted.

What Chase did want was to be with Krista. The only girl he had ever loved and who he now knew for a fact was the only woman he would love. He’d decided last night as he’d tossed and turned in his bed that the only way he had a shot at that happening was to not tiptoe around anything, including them. If he had something to say, he was going to say it. If she wanted to yell, scream, or storm away, then so be it. That’s how it had always been between them. Real. Raw. Connected.

“Chase. I’m not doing this with you.” She shook her head as she crossed her arms defensively.

Her words didn’t surprise him. Their returning to being
them
was probably the last thing on earth she wanted to happen. But that was exactly what was going to happen if he had any say over it.

“This is my track,” she said pointedly. “I just came here to run.”

“What a coincidence. So did I,” he said, mimicking her tone. Then he began to jog in place as he said, “I think the track is big enough for the both of us. Unless you’re scared you can’t keep up with me.”

Placing his earphones back in his ears, he continued his run on the track knowing that there was no way her pride and competitive nature would allow her to just walk away. No matter how much she didn’t want him here.

This morning, as he’d pulled on his old running shoes, the most he had hoped for was that by getting to the track this early he would have it to himself. He appreciated the fact that people were excited to see him, but there were times when he simply wanted to be out in public and just be him, not the person people had built him up to in their minds. Now, he was more than happy that things had not gone as he’d hoped. Nothing could have made him happier than seeing Krista standing at the gate, looking like she was ready to spit nails over his mere presence on
her
track. It was cute as hell.

As he turned the corner of the track to head down the visitor’s side of the field, he saw her stretching beside the cheerleaders’ stand. He couldn’t make it out clearly, but it looked as though she was muttering to herself. Her skin was already flushed and she hadn’t done more than a few stretches.

Chase had been thinking a lot about the night he’d left town so many years ago. Part of him still questioned if he’d done the right thing. Guilt over seeing his mom’s house and finding out from her doctors that she was dehydrated and slightly malnourished plagued him. And Krista. Seeing her, talking to her, briefly touching her had made him question everything about the last ten years. Sure, he’d tried to stay in touch with her. He’d never missed a birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s Day or their special anniversary. He’d texted her randomly. But he hadn’t really tried to reconnect with her.

He kept asking himself why not. The easy answer was that she’d never returned his texts or calls or responded to any gifts he’d sent. Still, deep down, he knew better. That wasn’t the reason he’d stayed away. Chase was beginning to realize that the true catalyst behind what he’d done came down to two facts. One, he was scared. Two, he was in denial.

When he’d gone over to Krista’s house after his fight with his dad and told her he had to leave, get out of town, and not come back, he’d wanted them to stay together. He hadn’t wanted them to break up because of his shitty circumstances. At first, she’d agreed to them staying together. She’d cried and hugged him, softly kissing his face where his dad had taken out his anger on him. She’d promised him that they’d get through this and she would always be there for him. Then, when she’d scooted over to get closer to him, her jacket had caught beneath the seat, and when she’d tugged it out, lace panties had come with it.

He had no way, to this day, of explaining how those panties had gotten into his truck. She’d been furious. He’d been just as furious that she hadn’t believed him when he told her he didn’t know whose they were. He remembered at the time not being able to believe she was actually upset about something that stupid when his life had been falling apart. Now, in hindsight, he could see how bad it looked.

He’d told her that there was no way they could stay together and make it work if she didn’t believe him, trust him. Tears had been pouring down her face as she’d looked him dead in the eyes and told him that she would never trust him and she never wanted to see him again.

A sick feeling rose in his stomach at the memory of what had happened next. He’d just been so hurt, so betrayed—first by his dad, then his mom—that, sitting in the small cab of his truck at one of the lowest points of his life, he couldn’t believe that Krista was doing the same thing.

He’d reached across her, opened the passenger’s side door, and said with an eerie calmness, “Get out.”

She had just sat there for a moment, staring at him in shock and disbelief. Looking back, he knew she’d probably expected him to talk to her, to work things out like they always had. Instead, he’d turned the key in his ignition, put his hands on the steering wheel, and, looking straight ahead through the windshield, said coldly, “Get the fuck out of my truck.”

Now, as he rounded the turn to the home side of the field, he saw her move onto the track about fifty yards in front of him. He picked up his speed to close the distance by about half. He could easily have caught up to her, but the closer he got, the more he decided that behind her was exactly where he wanted to be.

She would have the satisfaction of running ahead of him, which he knew her mind would equate to winning. And he got a chance to enjoy a view that rivaled the seven wonders—all of which he’d seen—which was the wondrous sight of Miss Krista Sloan’s backside bouncing as she ran.

In his book, it was a win-win.