Crazy Love - Krista & Chase (8 page)

He could hear the large tour bus idling behind him and he turned his head, motioning for Chip to leave. The one thing Chase didn’t need right now was any more attention being drawn to the fact that he was back in town. Watching as the bus pulled away from the curb and headed down the street, Chase took a moment before going inside.

Logically he knew that his father would not be on the other side of the front door. He was dead. In the ground. Not sitting in his recliner, waiting for any excuse to lose his temper and start swinging.

Shaking off the inner dread that had filled Chase’s senses, he set his guitar case down and reached up above the door to grab the extra key. As he did, he realized he had no idea if it would still be there. His finger ran across the wood frame and…there it was, exactly where it had been the day he’d left all those years ago. Somehow that fact did not make him feel any better about being here.

His heart beat loudly in his ears as he slipped the key into the deadbolt, turned it, and heard the small click. Removing the key from the lock, he returned it to where his mom had always insisted they keep it.

As a teen, he’d tried to talk her into moving the spare key somewhere less obvious, but she’d insisted that that was where his father knew it would be, and no matter what his ‘state’ was, he’d be able to find it there. Chase remembered that, at the time, he’d told his mom that was even more of a reason to change the key’s location. If his dad was so drunk he didn’t even remember where his own keys were or had lost them somewhere, the last place he needed to be was inside the house with Chase and his mom.

But Chase’s mom had always been terrified of his dad. And for good reason. Roger Malone had liked to use both his son and wife as punching bags.

He could hear his heavy breaths in and out of his nose as he stood on the threshold of his childhood home. Knowing that no matter how long he stood outside he was not going to suddenly get the warm-fuzzies at his homecoming, he bit the bullet and turned the knob, pushing the door open. Reaching down, he picked up his guitar case and stepped inside.

After closing the door behind him, he stood stock-still in the entryway. Again, a feeling of shock and disbelief washed over him at the condition his mom’s home was in. When he was growing up, their house might not have been the nicest on the block, but it had
always
been spotless. Not a speck of dust, not a knick-knack out of place. He could remember some days that his mom would vacuum not once, not twice, but
three
times.

She didn’t suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Nope. She suffered from Roger Malone Disorder.

His dad had not just required, he’d demanded her to serve both breakfast and dinner, keep an immaculate house, and never complain about it.

Chase slowly scanned the house, moving his head from side to side. There was a thick layer of dust on the oak bookshelves that stood against the far wall. He could see the dining room table from where he stood, and it looked to be overflowing with newspapers and other random objects. There were dog toys scattered around the floor. The carpet looked filthy except for four or five clean spots.

Weird.

His feet moved beneath him and he found himself walking into the kitchen area. He stepped off the tile entryway and onto the white-and-green-checkered linoleum flooring that he himself had laid the summer before his junior year. The rubber on the bottom of his boots stuck to it as he walked. The setting sun shining through the glass slider illuminated the fact that the once bright white squares were now a dingy yellow.

A fly buzzed around the stack of dirty dishes overflowing in the sink. The dishes, even though they were dirty, should have made Chase feel better because at least it was evidence that his mom was in fact eating. Unfortunately, all of the stacked plates and bowls contained a good deal of leftover food.

This place needed a good deep cleaning. Chase racked his brain, trying to remember the last time he’d done a dish. Used a vacuum. Dusted
anything
. It had to be when he’d crashed on his drummer Pete’s couch when he’d left home. There had been four guys staying at Pete’s tiny one-bedroom at the time, and there definitely was no cleaning schedule. It was more like when there were no clean dishes to eat off of, you washed one.

Since Midnight Rush had started touring, beginning their road to fame in dive bars ten years ago, Chase had lived in hotels, motels, and
notels
. Even in the beginning, when they’d stayed in rat-infested dumps, he hadn’t cleaned up. And nowadays, he normally stayed in places with not just maid and laundry services, but his own personal concierge as well.

His plan tonight had been to find something to eat, take a shower, and crash. But it looked like that would have to wait. Turning back to drop his stuff off in what used to be his room, he actually felt a little excited about doing a little good old-fashioned cleaning.

When he was growing up, his mom had liked to say that cleaning was good for the soul. At the time, he’d figured it was just her way of making the best out of her situation. But at the excitement building inside of him over getting this house cleaned up, Chase thought that she just might have been right.

S
quinting through bleary eyes, Krista looked at the green LED display on her dashboard. It was one fifteen a.m. As she drove through the empty streets of Harper’s Crossing, she rolled down the window, hoping some fresh air would perk her up. It was a short drive to Abby’s house¸ but she was having a tough time staying alert.

Since crashing in her bed at eight p.m. Bear had woken her up at least a dozen times. She’d let him out to go potty and made sure he had food and water. Around eleven, she’d even played with him, hoping to burn off some excess energy, but it was all for naught. He still remained one hundred pounds of anxiety.

Luckily, just as she was about to burst into tears from frustration and exhaustion, she remembered his teddy bear. Bear had a ratty, disfigured bear that he’d had with him when Abby had adopted him from the shelter and brought home. Bear slept with it every night. It was missing one eye, its button nose, and even a limb. Krista and Abby both had bought Bear other stuffed animals in hopes of replacing Teddy—what they’d named it because calling them both Bear was confusing—but Bear wanted no part of them. The dog was nothing if not loyal.

So here she was, in the middle of the night, in her pajamas, headed across town to get Teddy. She had to be up at five a.m., so she was hoping against hope, crossing her fingers, legs, eyes, toes—
anything
she could cross—that once Bear had his beloved stuffed animal she could get a few hours of blessed sleep. Her plan had been to start getting up an hour early and head down to the track at the high school to run before work. That plan was not going to happen today. It would have to wait for a time when she got more than four hours of sleep in a forty-eight-hour period.

In a sleepy haze, she pulled up in front of the house and got out of her car. Her slippers swooshed along the concrete as she made her way up the driveway. Her arm felt weak as she lifted it over her head to reach the spare key. Her heavy lids fell shut as she pushed the key in the lock and turned. Krista had never liked the saying ‘dead on your feet.’ It just sounded so morbid. But right now, that was precisely how she felt.

As she stepped into the house, her eyes popped open as the pungent scent of lemon stung her nostrils.
Holy cow
! Someone had gone a little crazy with the cleaning products.

Even though the only source of illumination in the front room and dining area was the moonlight slipping in between the shades, Krista could see that the place was immaculate. Confusion swept over her as she took a few steps and peered around the wall to the kitchen. Not a single dish was in the sink. The counters were clean and the floors looked freshly mopped. Had Abby finally used the coupon Krista had given her for the Merry Maid service? Krista hadn’t seen the house look this clean since Chase had lived here.

Wait… Oh no!

There was no way Chase would be here, in this house. Right? He wouldn’t
stay
here. He hated this house. He had to be staying at a hotel or the B&B. Why on earth would he be here?!

At the thought that Chase might actually be just down the hall, Krista’s heart rate sped up so fast she was worried it was going to pump so much blood through it that it would explode. She froze, not sure what she should do.

Leave. She needed to go. Get out of here.

Her eyes darted to the front door. She was sure she could take the few steps needed to get out of here and Chase would be none the wiser. As she pivoted on her heels, her slippers easily turned on the sleek tile flooring.

A thought stopped her before she moved even one inch towards the door. More of a realization really. It dawned on her that she was being totally ridiculous. Whether or not Chase was here didn’t change the fact that she needed to get Teddy so that she could get some sleep tonight.

Instead of trying to escape, she decided to behave like the adult she was and headed towards Abby’s room to retrieve the stuffed animal, shaking her head at her own juvenile reaction to the possibility that Chase was here. His return had definitely sent her into a tailspin. She’d been upside down and out of sorts all day—which was beyond irritating to say the least.

Off balance was so
not
Krista’s style. She was proactive not reactive. It wasn’t very often that life came in and threw her for a loop, but when it did, she spun with it and did the hula. This whole oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-he’s-back fog she’d been wandering around in all day was about to be cleared the hell up.

He was back. So what? That changed absolutely
zero
about her life. Her real life at least. Her dream life and fantasy life had already become more active in the Chase department just from spending five minutes with him in a dimly lit hospital room. Hearing his voice again. Experiencing the sensation she always got when he looked into her eyes, when he
touched
her. It might have only been on the wrist for a moment, but sweet marmalade, his touch was as potent as ever, if not more so.

As she turned down the hall to walk towards the master bedroom, she immediately took note of the fact that the door to Chase’s childhood bedroom was closed.

There it was. Proof. He was definitely
here
. Abby always kept Chase’s door open. In fact, several times when Krista had come over, she had let herself in because Abby had not answered the door. Inside, Krista had found Abby curled up on Chase’s bed. It was heartbreaking.

Moving past the shut door, she had to stop herself from reaching out, turning the knob, and peeking inside.
Damn it
. It had always been that way with Chase. Krista was drawn to him. Yes, she’d heard people throw that term around, but this was different. She
really
was. Literally. It was like an outside force that she had to actively fight against not to give in to. If he was in the same area, she gravitated towards him.

Once, when she’d tried to explain the phenomenon to Jessie, her sister had tried to reason it out with logic, explaining that it was just his natural charisma, which was why he’d been able to become who he was. People—fans—were drawn to him. Her sister’s logic made total sense, but Krista
knew
it was more than just his charisma that pulled her to him. Since the first time he’d kissed her when she was in the sixth grade, she’d known it was something different. Something more.

Okay, this little trip down memory lane was not going to help her get any sleep tonight. Five a.m. was a cruel, unforgiving hour that didn’t care whether or not Krista had wasted the precious hours preceding it waxing poetic about the love of her life.

Get Teddy. Go home.
That was what she was here for. All this sidetracking was not on the schedule.

Thankfully she was able to retrieve the stuffed animal quickly. It was lying beside the queen-sized bed in the center of Abby’s room.

Teddy in hand, she made it down the hall without so much as a glance in the direction her body was screaming for her to move towards. Her body could protest all it wanted. Krista’s mind was running things. Not her hormones. Not her heart. Not her soul… Her mind.

Just as a twinge of pride tickled in her chest from the satisfaction of not giving in to her body’s base instinct, she heard a sound behind her. Spinning around, she came face to chest with a shirtless Chase Malone.

Oh boy.

Obviously her body had not been on board with her previous pep talk, because at the sight of Chase’s bare chest, her mouth instantly watered and there was a quickening in her core.
Down girl
, Krista instructed her lady parts. What she should have done was rein in her eyes, which took in every line, every muscle that ran down Chase’s sinfully sexy abdomen and painfully perfect chest. The sight caused a pulsing need between her legs.