Sugarplums and Second Chances

Chapter Eleven

A few hours later, Chase led Courtney by the hand to the family room's couch. All night his nerves had been twitchy. As the evening had worn on, he'd had one thought.

Ask her to stay.

He plugged in the Christmas tree lights then flipped the switch to the gas fireplace. As the flames burst upward and the tree twinkled, he selected a playlist of slow songs. "Can I get you anything?"

"No." She sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other.

He returned to the couch, sitting next to her.

"So...what did you think of everyone?"

Her lips were close. He couldn't stop staring at them.

"Really nice. Fun. I liked them a lot."

"And Lake Endwell?" His voice sounded husky. He didn't care. Her perfume was killing him.

"Charming," she practically purred. "Delightful."

He took her hand in his. "What if you didn't move to Indianapolis?" As soon as he uttered the question, his gut clenched. What if she hated the idea?

"What would I do instead?" Her eyelashes fluttered.

"Join me in starting the program. You know what you're doing. I don't. Name your position on the board. I'll pay you."

She scooted away slightly. "The program. Right."

Had he said something wrong? "You need something to fill your time. I do, too. We've already made so much progress together."

She stood, turning her back to him. He rose, too.

"I can find lots of things to fill my time, Chase."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched. Had she changed her mind about him at the party? What was he doing wrong?

His insides screamed to tell her the truth, to tell her he loved her. But the words were choking him.

"This is coming out wrong." He wiped his hand down his cheek. "I want you to stay. Not because I think you need a job or to use you for my program or anything."

She faced him then, her eyes wide, questioning. "Why?"

Tell her!

"I...I..." He balled his hands down at his sides. "Well, the truth is, Courtney, I care about you very much."

Questions swam in her eyes. "Is this the kind of care a friend would feel for his friend's widow?"

When she said it like that, he felt like a jerk. He shouldn't have these feelings for his friend's widow.

"No," he said. "Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"Like this." He cupped her face and slowly leaned forward. His lips grazed hers. He looked into her eyes. "Tell me when to stop."

She didn't say a word.

He kissed her again, holding her close, trying to convey his feelings as best as he could. Was he getting through to her? Did she have any clue how much she meant to him?

He ended the kiss, not moving away from her for fear she'd leave.

"I didn't mean to, but somewhere along the line, reading all your letters, spending time with you here..." He wanted to say it, needed to say it, but the words wouldn't come out. Come on, man, say it. "I fell in love with you. Courtney, I love you."