CrissCross (Crossroads Book 1) Read online

  Axel glanced around. “Where’s the duchess?” he asked wryly. “I felt sure she’d be wherever you are when she got the news about your break in.”

  “She has a name. You only insist on calling her duchess to irk her,” Jimi accused.

  “Me? Irk the duchess? Never.”

  “Shut up, Axel,” Jimi sighed. “I’m sure Isla would be here if she knew, but I didn’t call her.”

  “Why not? You two are joined at the hip,” Axel snorted.

  “She had a date tonight with someone new and I didn’t want to disrupt that. She’s been working way too hard lately and she deserves a night out.”

  “Right,” Axel drawled.

  “I will never understand why you two hate each other so much. No, that’s not how it is. I’ll never understand why you hate her so much.”

  “I don’t hate her. You have to care about someone to hate ‘em.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say,” Jimi exclaimed. “I—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa . . .” Chance interrupted. “We’ve all had enough drama for one day. Let’s table this discussion.”

  Suzanne had been watching the two of them like she would a tennis match. Jimi’s cousin and best friend hated each other? Why? Isla was lovely. And Axel was rough around the edges, but seemed like a decent guy. It was obvious that they both cared a great deal for Jimi.

  She decided it was time to go home. Maybe that would derail the cousins from throwing down over Isla Cassel. She stood up, said her goodbyes—receiving hugs from both Chance and Jimi—and promised to have them over to her condo soon.

  Chance walked her downstairs and to her car. They even stood and talked for several minutes before she slid in and drove off while he waited on the sidewalk and waved her off. He remembered that family in the restaurant parking lot a couple of weeks earlier and how envious he was of them. Now here he was acting in a similar fashion with his own mother. He never thought he’d see the day.

  Maybe he’d enjoy it as long as it lasted. Surely she’d find a new man soon, and it wouldn’t be long before they’d be back where they started. He looked up in the sky and saw a shooting star. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he wished on it. He wished that whether Suzanne ended up alone or with someone new she wouldn’t lose the person she was finding her way to becoming.

  CHAPTER 13

  Early the next morning Chance stepped out his door on his way to check on Jimi at her place. At that very moment Axel’s door popped open and she emerged—her destination the same as his. He blinked at her in confusion.

  They’d bickered the night before over her staying in her own apartment alone. Chance had offered to have her stay at his place, telling her he could sleep on his sofa. He worried about her being alone after the emotional and creepy break in incident. She had stood firm and he walked her to her door.

  Now she was sneaking out of her cousin’s place and when she noticed him standing there, her face went red.

  “Oh hey, Chance,” she said—sleep still evident in her voice.

  He leaned a shoulder nonchalantly against the wall beside his door. “Jimi,” he drawled.

  “What are you doing up this early?” she asked.

  “I was just going over to check on you and find out what time we leave for church.”

  Her head jerked in surprise. “We?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re coming to church with me this morning?”

  “Yeah,” he repeated as his eyes raked over her from her crazy bed-head, over her rumpled pajamas, to her bare feet. He took a sip from his coffee mug. “So, how’d you sleep last night?” he challenged.

  Huffing out a sigh, she answered, “Well, obviously not that great. I was pretty freaked out about being alone so I went over and crashed on Axel’s couch.”

  “You could have come back over here and taken my bed. I’d have moved to the couch.”

  “No, I couldn’t have,” she said obstinately. “Because then I would’ve had to admit you were right and I was wrong.”

  His lips twitched. “Right. Now . . . what time do you leave for church?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  Chance straightened away from the wall and moved toward her. “I’ll be ready.” He bent his head to kiss her good morning, but she stepped back.

  “Whoa,” she warned. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

  He grinned. “Well, I taste like microwaved day-old coffee, so we’ll pretty much cancel each other out,” he stated as he curled a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face to his for a kiss.

  They parted ways to get ready and met back up an hour later.

  As he backed his car out of the parking space, Jimi snuck a peek at him. “So, Chance . . . I didn’t know you were a church guy.”

  “I’m not,” he admitted.

  “Then why are you going with me?” she asked curiously. She hurriedly added, “Not that you’re not welcome. I’m happy to have you along.”

  “I’m going with you because you’re a church girl and I like doing things with you.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Have you ever been involved in any church?”

  “No. I went to the Catholic church a few times with friends growing up, but that’s about it.”

  “This seems like an interrogation, but I’m just wondering what I’m dealing with here.” She paused and waited for his nod. “Are you a believer?”

  “Are you asking if I believe in God?”

  “Partly,” she hedged.

  “You know there’s an old saying—‘There are no atheists in foxholes’—and it’s true. I’ve been known to pray in some gnarly situations. So, yeah . . . I do believe in God.”

  “Are you Christian?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what I had them put in my military records and I’ve spoken to a few chaplains in my day. But I admit that I don’t really know much about the Christian faith. When I lived in San Diego I had friends who went to a non-denominational Christian church. They invited me to a couple of Christmas Eve and Easter services and I went along with them.”

  Jimi smiled. “Must not have turned you off if you’re willing to go with me this morning.” The smile faded. “Unless this is just because you’re being protective after yesterday.”

  He moved his hand from where it was draped by the wrist over the top of the steering wheel and took hers. Threading his fingers through hers on her lap, he said, “I was hoping to be invited to go with you eventually, but decided after yesterday you might need my support this morning so I invited myself.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I appreciate the thought. And I’m sorry I haven’t asked you before, but—”

  “Don’t be sorry about that. And just to be clear . . . If Shad shows up there this morning, I am interested in seeing his reaction to you.” They drove another block in silence before he asked, “Will we be seeing any of your family there?”

  Jimi snorted. “No. They come with me for special holidays sometimes, but they don’t attend regularly.”

  By then they were at the church and he pulled in and parked. “Here we go,” he said a bit nervously.

  “It’s gonna be great,” she encouraged. “I think you’ll like it here. I remember the first time I came with Isla’s family back in middle school. I was scared to death,” she chuckled, “but I’ve felt at home since that very first day.”

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  After church—which Chance enjoyed even more than he thought he would—they stopped at Wal-mart for cleaning supplies and replacement toiletries for Jimi.

  Before they went home they stopped for lunch, meeting Isla and her parents at a local diner instead of having the dreaded gumbo at the Cassel home. Isla had only learned of the vandalism that morning and was fit to be tied that she hadn’t received an immediate call the day before. After placating her, Jimi filled her and the elder Cassels in on the details.

  That afternoon Chance
helped Jimi clean the upholstery on her sofa and chair, attempt to get the yarn dyes out of the carpet (which didn’t go well), and discuss the best way to refinish the wood on the entertainment center. Since the damage only affected two of the shelves, she decided she would sand them down—along with the other shelves—and paint them in an accent color. This way they wouldn’t have the headache of trying to match the stain against the rest of the piece—which might take several attempts. Of course, they could take the extra time to refinish the entire unit, but Jimi was over it and didn’t need the added work. By the end of that discussion, she had Chance agreeing that a terra cotta color (whatever that was) would look nice on the shelves and work with the blonde wood stained frame.

  While they had been debating that issue, Ben Tyler came by to add a new bolt lock to Jimi’s door. Chance was glad of that because he’d planned to go out and buy one so she’d feel safer sleeping in her own place. He’d kicked himself for not remembering to pick one up while they were shopping after church. Luckily, the building owner had instructed Ben to install one that very day after he’d been informed of the break in.

  “We have pizza coming, Ben,” Jimi shared. “Do you want to stay for some?” she invited uneasily.

  Ever since Ben had arrived, the air felt thick with awkwardness. Jimi glanced uncertainly at Chance. They had surmised that the police had indeed questioned Shad about his whereabouts the day before.

  “No, thank you,” Ben said gruffly. He didn’t look at her . . . just tightened the final screw so firmly with the cordless screwdriver the wood of the door trim shrieked in protest.

  He handed over the clipboard with her work order attached and gathered his things while she signed it.

  Jimi handed it back to him. “Thanks, for taking care of that so quickly. I appreciated it.”

  He grunted in acknowledgment and turned to leave, before halting abruptly. Without turning to look at them, he growled, “For your information, my boy was over at his buddy’s grandmother’s doing yard work yesterday afternoon.”

  “Alright,” she commented uneasily.

  The manager left without another word.

  “Well, that was uncomfortable,” Jimi commented—stating the obvious. “I feel bad they had to go through tha—”

  “I don’t,” Chance interrupted. “I’m sure the cops talked to everyone in the building. Not just to Shad and his parents.”

  “I guess,” she said doubtfully.

  A knock at the door accompanied by a waft of the delicious aroma of Paisano’s Spazzatura pizza forced the issue away. They took their dinner across the corridor where the reek of upholstery and rug cleaner wasn’t so pervasive.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  “So I get back on American soil, finally make it back to my house, and find the front porch buried under all of these envelopes. There must have been over fifty of them,” he said disgustedly.

  It was late that evening and they were cuddled on the lounge section of the couch.

  “What was in them?”

  “Notes that ranged from ‘I miss you’ to ‘why haven’t you called?’ to ‘are you dead?’ to ‘we have something special and you’ve ruined it’.”

  “Oh my,” Jimi winced. “Do you think you two had something special?”

  He gave her a wry look. “What we had was no more than six casual dates.”

  “Why would she leave those notes at your house? She knew you were out of the country.”

  He shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t know if she thought someone would happen upon them and package them up to send to me or if she thought some fairy godmother would do that for her.”

  Jimi nodded. “Here’s a question . . .” she began. “If you hadn’t come home from deployment to find her crazy leaked all over your doorstep, would you have called and asked her out again?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted.

  “Why not? Did you sense she had that in her?”

  “I just didn’t feel that connected to her. I mean . . . we had fun, I guess, but . . .”

  “She wasn’t the one,” Jimi surmised.

  “I wasn’t looking for the one.”

  “Ever?”

  “No.”

  “Wow. How come?”

  “I wouldn’t let myself get serious about anyone while I was in the teams. I didn’t want to do that to any woman. It’s a scary life—you know? For loved ones especially. I even hated putting my brother through it.”

  “Were any of your teammates married or in serious relationships?”

  “Of course. But, I always felt sorry for those women. I was really close to some of my bros’ women. They were almost like sisters to me, and even I felt guilty about them worrying over us.”

  “So you steered clear of women you might have had a chance with to protect them.”

  “That sounds so noble,” he said wryly. “It was just never a priority . . . and I had my reasons for it.”

  Jimi shook her head. “It couldn’t have been easy,” she commented. “I mean . . . the ladies must have been throwing themselves at your feet. You’re super hot.”

  He made a show of puffing out his chest comically. “Really? You think I’m hot?”

  “Well, yeah. You’re like a hot, sexy superhero,” she cracked with a smile. Chance burst out laughing. When his laughter died out, she mused, “So with your job as a military contractor nothing’s really changed for you. You’re still in a holding pattern.”

  His face went intense. “Maybe not. I’m thinking it’s time for a change.”

  “You mean give up the contracting work and finding something here?”

  “Yeah. I think it’s time. The money’s not as good but I have a good nest egg, so I’m seriously considering taking the CPD up on their offer. I think it’s a good one.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What’s tipped the scales for you?” she asked.

  Chance cocked his head to the side and gave her a get-real look. “Really? You’re seriously asking me that question?”

  “Well . . . yeah, I—” She broke off when he moved in nose-to-nose with her.

  “What do you think has tipped the scales?” he asked pointedly.

  “Umm . . . your mom needs you around?” she inquired—deciding to play it off lightly. At the shake of his head she continued the fake guessing game, stalling to slow her pounding heart and get her bearings. “You miss your brother?” He shook his head again. “Your passport is filled up and you don’t want the hassle of getting a new one?” A small chuckle and another head shake. “Me?” she squeaked.

  He didn’t shake his head this time. His eyes went even more intense. “Are you scared?”

  “Petrified. Are you?”

  “Quaking in my boots.”

  “On a scale of one to ten—ten being tracked down by a heinous Isis madman—how scared would you say you are?”

  “Eighteen,” he answered without missing a beat.

  “I’m worse than Isis?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “It isn’t? What are you saying?”

  “I can be a really intense guy,” he confessed.

  She studied his green eyes piercing into hers. “I can see that.”

  “I want this. I want this to work between us and it’s happened fast. For all I know, you’re just enjoying hanging out for awhile and it’s way too fast for you. When I say I’m going to take the new job to be with you, it might send you running. I don’t know how you’re feeling. That’s what’s scary.”

  She continued to watch him, but didn’t say a word.

  He went on, “Remember when you asked if it was a good idea to date your across the hall neighbor and I said it was a terrible idea? That was the truth. But, I’m in deep now, so . . .”

  “You still think it was a terrible idea?”

  “Remains to be seen.”

  “Hmm. Well, I think it might be one of the best ideas either one of us has ever had,” s
he teased. “Because you’re right. It did happen fast. But it happened, so I’m all in if you are.”

  Chance blew out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

  “So . . . does this mean you’re my man?” she cracked.

  “What?” he asked moving even closer, “I have to ask you to go steady?”

  As his lips made contact with hers, she murmured, “I’m so glad I let you pick me up at that football game.”

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  On Monday afternoon, instead of engaging in her normal cleaning routine, Jimi stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few incidentals along with the makings of the first real dinner she would be cooking for Chance. The first of many she hoped. Because of the clean up after her apartment’s vandalism, further housework was unnecessary.

  Pulling into the Crosswinds lot, she noticed Chance’s car was gone. The night before he hadn’t mentioned any plans for that day, but she had noticed that he had no trouble keeping himself busy. They had planned for him to come over for dinner, so she knew she’d see him then.

  Jimi bustled around her kitchen, preparing her signature roast chicken and stuffing. It was famous among her family and friends. It was often requested for special occasions like birthdays or just because someone had a hankering for a Thanksgivingesque feast at other times of the year. She even served canned jellied cranberry sauce with it.

  Once she had the chicken seasoned, propped on the vertical chicken roaster stand and in the oven, she arranged the flowers she’d picked up on a whim in one of her own pottery vases and set the table.

  Next she put her stuffing together . . . sautéing the onions and celery with garlic in olive oil, adding that to rosemary croutons, and pouring chicken broth over it. She set it aside until it was time for it to go into the oven. There was a knock on her door just as she pulled a bag of potatoes out of the pantry.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “Me,” Chance’s voice called back.

  “C’mon in!” The door popped open and she smiled over her shoulder as she watched him walk in.

  He paused to tap on the new bolt lock. “Why is this not locked?” he asked.