Page 43 of Chasin’s Surrender

“Okay. We’ll go.”

It was good Genevieve agreed, but Chasin hadn’t planned on giving her an option. Not that he was dumb enough to tell her that. Not while he was staring into her eyes, and staring back were the prettiest golden orbs he’d ever seen—and they were clear of fear.

“Good, honey, you and Bobby go pack up. I’ll call the guys and get them over here to help move your stuff.”

Genevieve bobbed her head taking Chasin hands still cradling her face with it. The urge to kiss her was so overwhelming, he pressed his lips against her forehead in an effort not to take her mouth.

“Go.” Chasin’s hands fell away from her face and he took a step back.

With all due haste, Genevieve took off with Bobby on her heels. Jameson cleared his throat, and when Chasin turned to his friend, he looked troubled.

“What?”

“You know what you’re doing?” Jameson inquired.

A wide, cocky smile tipped Chasin’s lips. “Yeah, brother, I know what I’m doin’.”

“Not talking about that jackass. You’re in deep and she’s a country mega-star who lives in Tennessee. So, I’ll ask again, you know what you’re doing?”

The answer was no, Chasin didn’t know what he was doing. What he did know was he hadn’t waited thirty-four years to find a woman who was perfect for him in every way, only to puss out because of her career and geographical location. Even if that career was as one of country music’s golden artists.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“You thinking she’s the one?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Damn.” Jameson let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Then you better find a way to make it impossible for her to leave.”

It didn’t matter if he did or didn’t. If leaving Tennessee was a deal-breaker, he’d gladly follow her back there. As much as Chasin hoped it wouldn’t come to that, he was not a stupid man and he’d had enough bad in his life to know when he’d found beauty. Therefore, there was no chance in hell he’d let it walk away.

Not again.

14

Chasin drove us down a long dirt lane and I took in our surroundings. Nothing but farmland all around us. Then my gaze went back to the interior of the car and I didn’t bother to hide my snicker before I looked back out the window.

“What’s funny?” Chasin asked.

“Nothing,” I sputtered.

I took in neatly planted rows of corn, then the farmhouse that had come into view—pear trees, red maples, and a large magnolia that I instantly fell in love with surrounded the two-story house.

“What’s so funny?” he repeated.

My eyes went from the house I’d be staying in to the man driving. I examined his strong features—square jaw, great nose, perfectly set hazel eyes, hair clipped short on the sides and back but longer on top, nicely shaped eyebrows. Boy-next-door handsome, if the boy next door had a chest carved from granite, six-pack abs, thick powerful legs, biceps that bulged, sexy forearms, and work-rough hands. And those were just the polite attributes. One could argue that the equipment Chasin was packing and how he used it was better than his muscled physique.

“Y’all aren’t from around here, are you?” I muttered.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for starters, you’re driving a Charger up a dirt lane. You’re not avoiding the ruts. And you’re driving too fast,” I told him.

“And from that, you concluded I’m not from around here?”