I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (10 page)

But what’s got me turned around is that under all that seduction Chase sounds sincere, genuine, like he isn’t just asking to ask. And damn if that doesn’t make him all the more attractive. I step back. Really, I have to, or God knows what I might do. Grab him and kiss him, run my fingers through his kind of messy tawny-shaded hair. Who knows?

His hands slip from my waist, and though a part of me instantly misses the heady contact, it’s actually for the best. I can finally think clearly. Sort of.

“I’m fine,” I begin, my voice all breathy and soft.

What the…

I just shake my head, get a grip, and continue, “Really, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I wrecked into you. It’s completely my fault. I was distracted, looking in my bag for these—”

I raise the sunglasses up a little and one of the mirrored lenses pops out. I try to hold it in place, but the lens slips and slides and I have to keep adjusting my fingers so it doesn’t fall.

“Um, I guess they didn’t fare so well in the collision,” I glumly conclude.

“Looks bad,” Chase concurs, nodding sympathetically. But I see what he really wants to do is laugh.

It is kind of funny. But I guess he feels bad too, ’cause when I go to place the damaged eyewear back in my bag, he says, “Do you mind if I take a look? Maybe I can fix them for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I try to tell him, not wanting to waste his time. But he holds out his hand and gives me this sweet, pleading look that no woman could possibly resist. Certainly not this woman, I don’t even try, I just hand the man the sunglasses.

Chase smiles and takes the glasses. He starts to mess with the lens, but it slips and slides under his fingers too. It won’t stay in place for anyone apparently. He lets out a low growl of frustration, and I have to look away. God, even his growls are sexy. Chase is a sensory delight, sight, sound, touch. I bet he smells and tastes good too. I lean a little closer to see if I can discern the former, but fearing that he’ll notice I step back and just enjoy the view.

Chase is lean, but it’s obvious he’s strong, he emanates physical power. I’ve heard he never loses a fight, which accounts for the perfect face. What a sexy badass. He doesn’t fully fit the part though. Not today. He has the sexy part down completely, yes, but his clothes are too nice to be badass. The shirt, pants, and shoes scream upstanding citizen, nice churchgoing young man. I practically snort;, since we all know
that
isn’t true. But his intent is probably to look the part, seeing as he’s here at the church. However, even his dressy clothes can’t hide his edge of pure bad boy, and the nice fabrics sure can’t cover up his amazing body.

His shirt is really nice, a crisp white button-down, with the sleeves rolled up. His exposed forearms display long, corded muscles, muscles that flex and move, especially when he snaps the lens of my sunglasses back into place.

The black pants he’s wearing look great too, fitting him to a tee. I find no fault anywhere. Damn, his body is a wonderland, meaning I can’t help but wonder what he’d look like unclothed. I’ve heard he has tats and I’m suddenly dying to see them. Wonder if he’d let me touch them.

I’ve obviously completely lost my mind.

Chase is just about done—the lens is fixed—so I avert my gaze and try to pretend I’m searching for something in my purse. He assesses the sunglasses for a few more seconds. As do I. From the corner of my eye I see there’s a bend in one of the arms, maybe from the collision. Chase straightens it back and says something about the sunglasses being nice. Instead of just offering up a simple thank you, I go into a long-winded explanation.

“Thanks. But they’re not really worth anything. They’re not real designer glasses. I bought them at one of those dollar stores.” Chase glances my way and gives me a little smile. “Not the one in town, the one a little north of here. Do you know where I mean? Up by the Agway on seven…” I trail off.
God, ramble much
.

But Chase doesn’t seem all that bothered by my babbling. He hands me the sunglasses, and they look perfect, like brand new.

“Wow, you fixed them,” I gush, turning them over in my hands. “Amazing, I think they’re actually better than when I bought them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He smiles, and oh, what a smile. “I’m Chase, by the way.”

We’re kind of hitting it off, flirting a little, even. So I don’t tell him I already know who he is. Why ruin things?

I just say, “Nice to meet you. I’m Kay, Kay Stanton.”

“Kay,” he says my name slowly, and I like the sensual way it sounds coming from his mouth. “Like, short for Kaylee or Kayla?”

“Nope, just Kay.”

“Hmm, I like it,” he says, pressing his lips together and nodding approvingly.

Oh, and I like
you.

I think this, but I don’t dare say it. I drop my gaze and lick my lips.

I better think of something to say if I want to keep this conversation going. And I do want to keep it going. I don’t want him leaving just yet, so I blurt out, “Hey, I didn’t see you in church today.”

Chase puts his hands in his pockets, turns up the charm. “I’m flattered you noticed.”

His tone is pure flirtation, making me fidget and tug at the edge of the left sleeve of my sweater. “Yeah, I did. Notice, that is.” A thread pulls loose and I hastily tuck it up under the sleeve, hoping he doesn’t notice. “That you weren’t there, I mean.”

Chase looks down at the pavement, all cute-like, and I can see he’s smiling. Hey, he’s smiling, not running. I see this as a good sign.

Encouraged, I continue, “S-o-o, you’re the guy Father Maridale hired to work on the church and the school, right?”

“I am,” he confirms. And then, after a beat, “Father Maridale is a good man. I owe him a lot.”

“He is,” I agree, nodding. “He truly believes everyone deserves a second chance, no matter what they’ve done in the past.”

I realize what I’ve just said, and so apparently has Chase. His gunmetal blues pierce, eyeing me like he’s just put together that I know exactly who he is. And that I have right from the beginning.

Sure enough, he quietly asks, “You know who I am, don’t you?”

And we both know what he means—I know his past.

I wince, sigh. “Yes, I know who you are.”

“When did you realize?”

Very quietly—eyes downcast—I admit, “I knew right away, Chase. As soon as I looked up and saw it was you I’d wrecked into.”

Neither of us says anything, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I fully expect him to take off, but instead he says softly, “Hey, it’s fine. But can I ask you something, Kay?”

I nod, and dare to open my eyes and glance up. To my surprise, when our gazes meet, I see an emotion I’m all too familiar with—a deep kind of sadness, the kind that reaches into the soul and just kind of burrows there. Chase is lonely, like me. I’m sure of it. And in the recognition that here is someone possibly as sad and alone as I, all sense of pretense on my part crumbles. I’ve obviously misjudged Chase Gartner.

He scrutinizes my face. Does he see in me what I see in him? If he does, he keeps it to himself. What he does say is this: “I know a lot of people in this town expect me to fuck up again.”

I start to shake my head, deny what he’s saying. But that would be a lie, and we both know it.

“I see the way they look at me,” he continues. “I know what they’re thinking, what they say behind my back.”

I can’t deny what he’s experienced, so I just say, “I’m sure it’s not easy.”

His eyes pin me down, all blue intensity. “So, okay…What about you, Kay? You’re part of this congregation.” He motions to the church behind me. “Do
you
think I deserve the second chance Father Maridale is giving me? Or do you believe—like everyone else—that he’s wasting his time?” He makes a scoffing sound. “’Cause I’ll surely just screw up again.”

I suddenly feel like crap. Less than an hour ago, I
was
thinking he might screw things up, mess up again. Did I not question Father Maridale’s judgment? Did I not think Chase needed watching? I did, but I don’t tell him any of these things. What good would it do? And, more importantly, who am I to judge?

I say in a quiet voice, “Trust me, Chase, out of this whole town, I’m the last person you should be asking these questions.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “That’s not an answer, so I’ll take it as yes, you expect me to fuck up again.” He doesn’t sound angry, just resigned.

I’m so used to shutting people out and evading the tough questions. But if Chase is willing to be this
real
with me, then he deserves a real answer in return.

It takes me a minute to gather my courage, but I finally say, “Okay, it’s true, it has crossed my mind that you might screw things up again.” He winces, like my admission, said out loud, kind of hurts.

I hurry along. “But now that I’ve met you, I guess I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry I had doubts, Chase, but all those stories…” He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway. What I said before is true. I have no right to judge anyone in this town. God, if you only knew…” My mouth snaps shut. I’ve revealed too much in this effort to be honest.

I know from the way he’s watching me that Chase is waiting for elaboration. But I have nothing more to say on the subject. I pray he doesn’t push and make things awkward. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

Instead, he rubs the back of his neck and says slowly, “So, you’ve heard things, had doubts. That’s fine. But I’m not the same person I was four years ago.” His eyes meet mine, and it’s evident he’s speaking from the heart. This is as real as it gets.

“So,” he continues, “fuck the rest of the congregation. What I want to know, Kay, is if
you
are going to give me a chance?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes, I can. I will, definitely.” I mean it too.

He presses his lips together, smiles tightly. “Fair enough.”

This has been a heavy turn in a first conversation, but it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as one may expect. Still, for a moment, we both look everywhere but at each other. I want to lighten things back up, get back to flirting and having fun, and I think I know just what to do to make that happen.

I sigh dramatically and say, “Well, fuck, I sure am glad we got that out of the way.”

I know the swear word will throw him for a loop—no one ever expects prim and proper me to toss around profanities. If they only knew, I am not so very wholesome. In any case, my tactic works. Chase’s eyes widen and meet mine.

“Gotcha,” I say.

And then we’re both laughing, like
really
laughing. And it’s good, like some little bridge between us has just been built.

“So, when do you start work at the school?” I ask when our laughter subsides.

“I’m supposed to start tomorrow,” he replies, shifting his tall frame. “Father Maridale wants me to clear out the principal’s office, start painting in there.”

“Oh, Mr. Kelly’s office.” I give a quick nod. “That’s good, it needs it.”

And does it ever, the walls are faded and dull, kind of gray. It’s anybody’s guess what color they once were. I suddenly have an idea, a way to show Chase I really meant it when I agreed to give him a chance.

“Actually,” I begin, “I teach over at the school, so I know every nook and cranny. If you want, I could stop by tomorrow and give you the grand tour. It’s kind of a small building, so it won’t take long, but at least you’ll know your way around after. What do you think?”

The flirtatious smile is back, and it’s like we’ve just passed another hurdle. “I think I’d like that very much,” Chase says softly.

I can’t help but smile in return; this gorgeous man just has that effect.

Things feel easy, relaxed, enough so that I tell Chase I’ll be working for the church this summer. Therefore I’ll be seeing him around a lot. Though I no longer plan to keep tabs on him, he’s obviously a decent guy.

I give him the story on why I’ll be covering for Connie, I tell him about the cruise she’s taking with her husband. The discussion then veers back to our tour plans, and Chase informs me he’s starting very early in the morning, way before I’m due in. We agree lunchtime will work best for my “tour.”

I ask him if he has a key to get in the school, because I could lend him mine and he could give it back to me when I see him. He thanks me for the offer, but says Father Maridale is giving him a key today.

“That’s why I’m here.” He glances to the rectory behind the church. “I should probably get going so I can catch him before he heads out.”

I redirect him to the church itself and tell him he’s more likely to find Father Maridale in the sacristy. Father likes to get to work on next week’s homilies right after Mass on Sundays. He can almost always be found seated at the desk next to the closet for the vestments. I tell him all this, and Chase thanks me for steering him in the right direction. We say our farewells, and he goes one way and I, another.

By the time I reach my car, I notice there’s something different in the way I feel. There’s a little more hop in my step perhaps. A squishy hop, as my flats are still wet, but a hop nonetheless.

I like Chase Gartner. I say it in my head, try it on for size. It feels right, so I say it again, this time out loud, as I get in my car. “I like Chase Gartner.”

Yeah, I do.

And, sure, he’s insanely attractive—and I kind of hope his hands end up on me again—but it’s more than just that. Chase may very well be one of the most real people I’ve met in a long time. I want to get to know him better, see if my impression of him, now that I’ve officially met him, holds true. And I want to give Chase a chance, like I promised. Heck, maybe it’s time I take a chance of my own, live a little.

Lord knows—literally—that I hide myself in this church. I wrap myself up in the role of the poor girl who lost her little sister in a tragic accident, the young woman whose parents cast her aside like a ragdoll. I keep myself from living in the present by clinging to the past, holding fast to guilt and grief. I’m good at it; it’s what I know. It’s been my life for four years now, but frankly it’s getting old. Maybe it’s time to stop and reassess.