Page 3 of Chasing Forever

Wearing his expensive designer suit, wool jacket, and high-dollar leather dress shoes, Chase stepped off the porch to peer through the front window. The living room was empty even though a football game was showing on TV. Beyond the living room, he could see into the dining room, and there was the sight that would forever be etched in his brain. Patrick was standing with his back to the window, butt naked and having sex with some woman whose creamy thighs were wrapped around his waist.

Did Chase walk away then? No! Like a dirty voyeur, he stayed there for another minute, not because he’d wanted to, but because of the woman’s toes. Her toenails were painted bright pink with glittery flecks on them, just like…

Holy hell! It was her. Cassandra was sprawled out on Patrick’s dining room table for all the world to see. Technically, he was the only one watching, but anybody who wandered by could have seen the same thing. Never mind that it was cold and dark and nobody seemed to be outside except him.

Then, as if he’d needed the confirmation, Cassandra sat up and looked over Patrick’s shoulder right at Chase. A flash of panic crossed her face, and then Patrick turned and spotted him too. Not wanting to confront them naked, Chase shot up his middle finger instead. Then he dumped the bag of Chinese food on Patrick’s front porch and hurried back to his car.

By the time he’d started it and was backing out, Cassandra, wearing Patrick’s robe, had opened the front door and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Ignoring her, he sped away, fueled with anger and adrenaline. Given the way he felt, it was a good thing he hadn’t stayed to confront them. Who knew what he might have done to Patrick, and he couldn’t afford to jeopardize his reputation and career.

Cass didn’t come home that night, though she’d sent numerous texts and left voicemails apologizing. In the end, Chase sent one reply.

I’ll have your stuff sent to your apartment. Don’t bother coming back here.

They hadn’t officially moved in together, but she’d been spending a lot of time at his place and had brought over quite a lot of stuff.

Instead of doing something destructive, like punching holes in his walls or drinking himself into oblivion, Chase took the more constructive route. He spent the next two hours shoving her things into bags and boxes without care. There wasn’t much of value, but she didn’t deserve for him to neatly fold her clothes. Who cared if she had to iron everything once she unpacked? It served her right!

Afterward, he slumped down on his recliner with a beer, deciding he deserved at least one for the shitty night he’d had. Sometime around one o’clock in the morning, when his eyes were mere slits, he toed off his shoes and socks and made a decision.

It was time to take a sabbatical. He’d been thinking about it recently anyway, but what he’d witnessed that night cinched it. Edwards, Stewart, and Wineman would have to do without him for a while.

His career afforded him certain luxuries, and yes, he had it made working for his dad, but being a divorce attorney wasn’t all fun and games. The parade of clients with their endless bickering, name-calling, and finger-pointing wore on him. In the beginning, he’d been empathetic, at least with some. But after seeing Cass and Patrick together, he wasn’t sure he could remain neutral. Cheating was one of the primary causes of divorce, and now he’d experienced it firsthand. Even though he and Cass weren’t married, it still hurt like hell, and he was still consumed with anger.

His mind was made up, and the next day, he broke the news. He was taking a much-needed sabbatical somewhere far away and warm. Someplace he could recharge and reassess his life’s goals and ambitions. Somewhere he could forget, at least for a while, and, hopefully, regain his optimism.

Hawaii sounded like the perfect place.

Chapter 3

One of the first things Callie noticed when she arrived at the condo was the hibiscus planted right outside the door. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and the colors made her happy, especially since all she’d been seeing for months was white snow and brown trees. Kauai was called “the Garden Island” for good reason, and she was instantly glad to be there.

She entered the code on the keypad and stepped inside, rolling one of her suitcases behind her. She’d packed a few bags since she’d be gone so long, but she’d probably overdone it, since Hawaii was one of the most laid-back places on earth. An assortment of shorts, T-shirts, bathing suits, and sundresses was all she needed, but she’d also had to bring her writing paraphernalia, including journals, reference books, pens, notepads, and of course, her laptop.

Up until recently, her laptop had been her most prized possession, but right then, she didn’t even want to think about it. She planned to take the next few days to get acclimated and enjoy the sights, and then she’d think about writing.

She felt wistful as she rolled the suitcase into the bedroom, which had an ocean view. It was the same unit she’d stayed at several years ago, but the décor had changed. Still, it brought back a slew of memories as she walked through the rooms and refamiliarized herself with the layout.

Once she’d brought in all the bags and stowed them away, she decided to step outside and get some air. After being cooped up in an airplane and then a car, she was anxious to stretch her legs. It was early afternoon, and the outdoor thermometer next to the patio door read seventy-two degrees. The sun was bright, there was a slight breeze, and the ocean dazzled where it met the shore.

Her grandma had been right. Hawaii was one of the most romantic places on earth and should be the ideal location to write once she was ready. But for now, she decided to take the resort path down to the beach.

She was still wearing her travel clothes, as she hadn’t wanted to take the time to change. Besides, it wasn’t so hot that yoga pants, an oversized T-shirt, and sneakers looked out of place. Later, she’d unpack and change into something more resort-like.

She loved the tranquility of Kauai. Rather than city sounds, she heard birds chirping, children laughing as they splashed in the pool, and the wind rustling in the palm trees. The only thing missing was having someone to enjoy it with. She’d promised herself not to get melancholy, though. This was meant to be a trip that rejuvenated her, not a reminder of all she’d lost.

She paused where the cement path ended at the beach, which was small and C-shaped. The water looked innocent enough, but she recalled the strong undercurrent and how she’d felt more comfortable swimming in the pool. There were several people laying out but only two brave young men were in the water, dressed in full bodysuits and trying to surf. She watched them for a while and admired their tenacity before turning around to head back.

When she got closer to her unit, she could see the pool, and something caught her attention, or more accurately, someone. A man was pacing the pool deck with a phone pressed to his ear. He looked disgruntled, his mouth set in a tight line and his posture tense. Scanning his body, she noted his muscular chest and toned arms and legs. He was wearing black swim trunks, sunglasses, and nothing else.

She glanced around to see if anybody had noticed her staring, but she was alone. Since she couldn’t keep standing there, she very slowly continued up the path toward her unit while keeping the man in sight.

Suddenly he stopped pacing and shoved his left hand in his wavy brown hair. As a writer, she paid close attention to details, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring. But that didn’t mean he was unattached.

If Quinn were there, she’d have been drooling and dragging them to the pool to get acquainted. But Callie wasn’t here for that and was content to admire him from afar. It had been a while since she’d noticed a man like him. But here, without any distractions, he stood out like the colorful hibiscus growing by her front door.

When he resumed pacing, she allowed her eyes to roam over his backside, which was high and round, completing his perfect body. A man who looked like that could only mean one thing—trouble with a capital T! However, he had the exact physical type of a romance book hero.

She didn’t even need to know his personality to use him as a character. She could make it up. Hmm. Would he be cocky, arrogant, and controlling? Did he have a tortured soul? A troubled childhood? A string of failed relationships? Had he just lost someone he loved—a parent, spouse, friend, or lover? The possibilities were endless, which was why she enjoyed writing so much. She could concoct a story about a complete stranger, and she had full creative license. The guy would never even have to know.