Page 44 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

He glanced past me to the TV, which I hadn’t bothered to pause, just as Cavil McNeil told the woman of his dreams that his life wouldn’t be complete without her.

“Oh, Cavil,” she moaned from behind me. “I knew you were the one.”

“Doesn’t sound like any chick flick I’ve seen,” Chase said.

“Just an old cowboy show.” I shrugged. “Riding Tennyson this morning got me in the mood.”

“I’m glad you did take him out. The old guy needs more exercise than he gets.” His gaze dropped to his feet, which shifted beneath him.

“I was hoping you’d be there,” I hinted. “I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was thoughtless of me.”

He waved it off without meeting my eyes. “No need.”

This felt so weird. Chase Everett, on my doorstep, looking uncomfortable?

“Um, do you want to come in?” I asked, stepping back and pulling the door open wider.

“Sure.” His frame filled the doorway, and then we stood just inches apart in the tiny entryway.

“Let me squeeze this past you,” I said just as he said, “Let me get that for you.” His hand grasped mine in an attempt to grip the door and instantly recoiled as if he’d touched something hot.

“Sorry,” he murmured, letting me swing the door closed the rest of the way.

We stared at each other.

He said nothing, simply looked around in discomfort.

My stomach churning, I pointed toward the couch I’d been sprawled across a moment ago. “Do you want to sit down?”

Without a word, he strode toward the sofa, grabbed the pillows off one of the cushions, sat, and dumped the armful of pillows on the ground.

I stared at the discarded pillows.

“Oh, did you need those?” he asked, plucking them off the ground and shoving them back onto the couch next to him.

Men.“No, they’re for decoration. And you just covered them in dust. And then spread that dust to the sofa.”

He flipped over a cream pillow, wiped it clean, and placed it neatly back onto the couch. “I’ll never understand why women like these things.”

“They make the sofa feel more welcoming. You know, cradle your body as you’re sitting? Make you feel like you’re in bed, watching TV?”

I cringed inwardly at the fact that I’d used the words “cradle your body” and “bed” in the same sentence in a conversation with Chase Everett, but he didn’t seem to think anything of it.

“Why not put a TV in front of your bed then?” he mused. “I’m sure Agwe could install it for you.”

“No,” I said quickly, moving the pillows aside so I could sit next to him. “I like this setup. If I had to sit in bed to watch TV, I’d fall asleep.”

He stared at me, unblinking. “So you…bring the bed to you.”

“Exactly.” I paused. “I mean, no, not really. It’s just that—Chase, I really am sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to minimize the nice things you’ve done. You don’t need a reason to be kind, and I shouldn’t have suggested otherwise.”

He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips together, staring at the wall. “Actually, I came to apologize for my own behavior. I made you uncomfortable yesterday. Sometimes I assume things, and I’m not great at reading people. I wanted you to know that with what time remains of our little bargain, we’ll follow your lead.”

You assumed what, exactly?I hardly dared breathe, despite desperately wanting to know what he meant and also being terrified of the answer.

Chase must have seen the question on my face, because his expression immediately closed as he gestured to the TV. “You like cowboy shows?”

I let myself exhale, grateful for the change of subject. “Not just any show.The Cowboy’s Last Chase.This is Cavil McNeil’s greatest work. He’s a legend.”

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