Chase Me If You Can(23)

“And you couldn’t tell Mom you’d just come by after you close up?”

“You and I both know it’s not even going to be about whatever lamp she claims she can’t plug in herself. This is just her way of getting attention. If you would stop playing into it, she’d leave you alone. She never calls me or Sam with this crap other than when you’re gone every spring.”

Familiar irritation floods my veins. I don’t ask much of my brothers. “She’s our mother.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

I wave a hand to cut him off and avoid Wes’s questioning look. “I’ll just go. It’s easier than fighting with her. But you owe me.”

Not like that means anything. The favors my brothers owe me stack higher than any of the Colorado Fourteeners, not that they ever seem to try to make a dent in the pile. I’m sure Eric will claim that fixing Wes’s windows is a favor to me, despite the fact that he’s going to make a tidy little sum off the work. If anything, I’m the one doing him a favor.

Just like that, my decision is made. I’m not staying in town for another night, never mind until Monday. And if that means I have to chase with Wes, so be it.



* * *





“Does your mom live close by?”

I use the excuse of pulling out onto the busy street to give myself a few more seconds to decide how to play this. Exposing the full extent of my family’s dysfunction to Wes is not on today’s bingo card.

“I’m going to bring you back to my place before I go over there,” I explain, internally wincing at the waste of more than an hour driving in circles. “Trust me, you don’t want to be part of this.”

“I don’t mind. I know something about difficult parents.”

“It will be faster if I go by myself.” No matter how curious I am about the story lurking in his words, taking a personal interest in Wes isn’t part of the plan. Besides, I have a Band-Aid to rip off. “Have you seen the morning refresh?”

He hesitates like he’s going to argue some more about my mom, but he must change his mind. “Yeah. Of course it’s going off when we’re stuck here.”

“We don’t have to be. Stuck here, I mean.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and finally sneak a glance at his face. His eyes are concealed behind sunglasses, but the tense line of his jaw isn’t. In his lap, he’s toying with his phone, big hands flipping it over and over.

“You don’t have to be.” Wes turns back to the passenger window. “I can grab a hotel and wait for the glass to come in.”

“Like you’d ever let me hear the end of it if I got the winning shot off this storm.” I expect a reaction. Wes just shrugs. It’s the nonchalance more than anything that pushes the words out of my mouth. “We could go together. I mean, my car, my rules, so none of your usual Wild Wes shit.”

I swear he flinches at his nickname, but when Wes turns back toward me, he’s grinning like he’s just been handed the keys to the kingdom.

“You want to team up?”

“Want is a strong word,” I grumble. I’m careful. He’s reckless. Chasing together probably won’t go well, and yet here I am, making the offer anyway. “What I want is to beat you fair and square.”

It’s the truth, but deep down, some part of me likes the idea of not chasing by myself this season. I spend so much of my life alone. It wouldn’t be awful to have company—even if that company is Wes.

“I’ll enjoy watching you try.” His eyes dip to the neckline of my dress before darting back up. “You could bring that dress along.”

I scowl, tugging on the bodice where it’s slid down to reveal a little too much of my chest. “What is it with you and the dress nonsense?”

“It’s a compliment, Sloane. Normal people say thank you.” His overly casual tone does nothing to dim the devilish gleam in his eyes. “In fact, I was thinking—”

“That must have hurt.”

“Oh, c’mon, you can do better than that.”

Luckily my driveway is just ahead, sparing me from having to answer. “This shouldn’t take more than an hour,” I say, determined to avoid any further conversation about the damn dress. I pull my keys out of the ignition long enough to separate the front door key from the rest. “Do not go snooping through my things. You can tell me what you want to do after I deal with my mom.”

Wes takes the key with an odd expression, his eyes darting between me and the house. “I don’t need to think about it. I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”

“Great. I’ll get this over with, and then we can head south.”

He hesitates, and then asks, “Do you need to check with your brother about storing my ride?”

“I’ll tell Eric to leave it in my driveway when he’s done. He’s got a key to my house, so he can leave your keys inside. If you come back to get it without me, I can have him or my other brother stop by.”

“There’s another one of you?”

“Yeah. Sam is a lawyer, or at least he will be. My brothers are very different people.”

“A lawyer, a car mechanic, and a wedding photographer. You must have some interesting conversations at the holidays,” Wes says with a chuckle.