Page 75 of Check & Chase
Carmichael’s is Pinewood’s idea of fine dining—white tablecloths, soft lighting, prices that make my credit card wince. I arrive fifteen minutes early, stomach in knots. Jackson is already waiting, nursing what looks like whiskey.
“Starting without me?” I ask, sliding into the seat across from him.
He shrugs. “Liquid courage. Figured I might need it to be civil to a Bear.”
“This feels like an ambush.”
“It’s dinner, not an interrogation.” But the set of his jaw suggests otherwise. “I just want to understand what you see in this guy.”
“You could have just asked me.”
Jackson studies me, his expression softening. “Would you have given me a straight answer if I had?”
“Probably not.”
“Exactly. Hence, dinner.” He leans back, eyes scanning the restaurant entrance. “He’s late.”
“He’s not late. We’re early. And he’s navigating with a crutch, remember?”
“Right. The knee injury. Convenient timing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just an observation.”
I’m about to press the issue when the hostess approaches, Chase following behind her. He’s dressed in dark slacks and a navy button-down that brings out his eyes.
Jackson stands as they reach our table, his imposing height matching Chase’s. For a moment, they simply regard each other. Then Chase extends his hand.
“Anderson. Thanks for the invitation.”
Jackson hesitates before accepting the handshake. “Mitchell. Thanks for bringing my sister back before curfew the other night.”
Maya must have told him. That traitor.
“Jack,” I warn as Chase takes the seat beside me. “Play nice.”
“I’m always nice. Let’s order drinks, shall we?”
The server takes our orders. Another whiskey for Jackson, club soda for Chase due to his medication, a much-needed glass of wine for me.
“So,” Jackson begins once the server departs, “how’s the knee, Mitchell?”
“Improving. Your sister’s an excellent physical therapist.”
“The best. Which is why I was surprised to hear she’s dating a patient. Seems ethically questionable.”
And there it is—right out of the gate.
“It’s not ideal timing,” Chase acknowledges, unfazed. “But some things you don’t plan.”
“Like running into her at a coffee shop? After knowing each other for all of what, a month?”
Chase’s fingers brush against mine under the table. “Sometimesyou just know.”
“Bullshit.” Jackson leans forward. “You know what I think? I think you saw an opportunity. Beautiful physical therapist, new to the team, didn’t know your reputation. Easy target.”
“Jack!” I interrupt, heat rushing to my face. “That’s enough.”
