Page 74 of The Accidental Text

“Dude, you okay?” Devon asks, coming to stand near me.

Chase looks at us, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to yell. I can’t tell by the look on his face what he’s thinking right now. Then a slow smile spreads across his face, wide and broad. “That. Was. Awesome,” Chase says, full body movements with each word. Then he starts to laugh. A big belly one.

I look to Devon, squinting my eyes at him. “What did you do to him?”

Devon scrunches his face at me. “What do you mean?”

“How fast did you go?”

“As fast as I’ve gone with any other client.” Devon looks at Chase. “Do you get carsick, man?”

“Yeah? Sometimes,” Chase says, not laughing anymore, looking a little pained, like the up might chuck again. He puts a hand on his stomach.

Devon turns to me. “Did you even ask him if he gets carsick?”

“I thought I did. I know I told him not to eat.”

“No, you didn’t,” Chase says. “I grabbed something on the way over.”

I reach up and cover my mouth. Could I have been so worried that somehow Chase would spill the beans on how we met that I forgot to tell him everything I was supposed to?

Devon gives me a look of frustration, his eyes sending daggers in my direction.

He turns to Chase, who’s still on the ground. “I wouldn’t have driven so fast had I known, man. So sorry,” Devon says, clearly worried about losing the sale—a sale that was never going to happen. Maybe we could rent a luxury car and have it wrapped? Seems like a lot of work. I’m going to have to figure a way out of this and a way to let Devon know that it was nothing he did that caused Chase to not get his nonexistent car wrapped at Cooper’s.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Chase says to Devon. “That’s got to be a highlight of my life. Even with the puking.”

Devon chuckles. “Glad to hear it.”

Chase stands up from his spot, dusting the back of his shorts off. He still looks a little green, but he seems to be okay.

“I’m really sorry,” I say to him, putting a hand on his back. “I didn’t know you got carsick.”

“It’s been a long time since I have,” Chase says.

“Go get him something to drink,” Devon instructs. “I’ll get someone to … hose this down.”

“I could do it,” Chase offers.

“No worries, man. Not your fault,” says Devon. Then he darts me a look that indicates where he thinks the blame lies.

“Come on,” I say, “let’s go get you a drink.”

After stopping by the bathroom so Chase can wash up, andmore apologies from me, we go to the tent to find him a Sprite or something to help settle his stomach.

People are starting to arrive, getting plates of food and sitting down under the tent. Some of the clients, most dressed in racing gear, are gathered together, chatting. Cooper’s employees are busy running around doing last-minute things, no doubt on orders from Chelsea, given through the walkie-talkies they’re all carrying.

I spy my dad standing by the buffet and briefly wonder if we should take another route to the drinks, but think better of it. I might as well introduce Chase to my dad.

“Hey, Dad,” I say as we approach.

“Magpie,” he says when he sees me. He pulls me in for a hug, giving me a kiss on the top of my head. “Who you got here?”

“Right.” I pull out of the hug. “This is Chase Beckett. Chase, this is my dad, Nick Cooper.”

“Didn’t I see you at the anniversary party?” Dad asks, reaching his hand out.

Chase nods and then shakes my dad’s hand. I’m a little surprised that he remembered Chase being there. He’s not all that observant; plus, June was with him. I thought he’d be too occupied to really notice. It wasn’t like Chase and I were getting all close and personal, except for the hand-holding thing. But I know my dad didn’t notice that. Only Chelsea is snoopy enough to notice that.

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