Page 6 of Chasing Forever

Making sure to stay behind the beanpole in front of her, she waited to see where Chase would sit. The restaurant offered indoor and outdoor seating, and she placed her bet on the latter. She’d wanted to sit outside too, but she didn’t want him to see her.

She wasn’t interested in making friends with him. She simply wanted to observe and use him as her muse. She also didn’t want him to think she was following him, because she wasn’t. How could she know he liked hot dogs as much as she did? Honestly, he didn’t even look like a hot dog kind of guy. Sushi maybe…

“Next!”

Beanpole suddenly stepped aside and said, “You can go ahead. I’m waiting for my girlfriend.”

Callie panicked. She’d wanted to hide behind him until Chase sat down. Peering out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chase’s back as he went outside with his food tray.

She sighed with relief and proceeded to place her order.

Once she had her food, she peeked out the front window to get the lay of the land. Was this what private investigators felt like? Lurking around in order to see and not be seen? Good thing she was a writer instead, because she’d be terrible at it!

She didn’t spot him at any of the nearby tables, so she decided to take a chance. Tipping her head down, she carefully stepped outside with her food tray and made a beeline for the first available table.

Good move. Chase was sitting a few tables away with his back to her. He had his phone out and was scrolling through it in between bites of hot dog.

She settled in and placed her phone on the table, but she didn’t plan on looking at it. She was much more interested in what he was doing.

When she took her first bite of hot dog topped with pineapple relish, though, she forgot all about her mission. The travel writer had been spot-on. This was by far the best hot dog she’d ever tasted.

For the next few minutes, she enjoyed the food and surroundings while observing Chase at the same time. He’d stopped scrolling through his phone and was sipping a lemonade while glancing at the passersby.

Soon she realized how silly this was. The man wasn’t doing anything worthy of a romantic hero. He was simply relaxing like she was, though he still looked the part.

Tonight, he was wearing khaki shorts, a striped polo shirt, and canvas slip-on shoes. He could have been any other man on vacation, and it was dark, so hardly anybody noticed him.

Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Maybe he’d wanted to blend in and not “be seen.” Hmm. She was still contemplating this when he suddenly moved his seat back and started to stand up.

Shit, shit, shit! She quickly picked up her phone and bent over it so her hair was partially blocking her face. He surely wouldn’t recognize her now, plus she wasn’t wearing her glasses this time.

Keeping her head down, she could still sense his movements, and as he came closer with his tray, she prayed he wouldn’t notice her. She saw the briefest glimpse of khaki pass in and out of her peripheral vision and thought she was in the clear, but then the khakis reappeared right at the edge of her table.

“Callie? Is that you?”

She popped her head up and feigned surprise. “Oh, hi. Chase, right?” As if I’d forget his name!

“Right. What a surprise to see you here.”

She could have said the same of him. “I know, right? Out of all the restaurants on the island!”

He smiled, and his teeth glistened like in a toothpaste commercial. “I guess we’re both fans of hot dogs.”

“Yep. The all-American food!” Do I sound as dorky to him as I do to myself? God, I hope not.

“True, but with a Hawaiian flare. It was delicious.”

“I agree.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” he said, motioning to her phone.

Luckily, the screen had gone dark. She’d been looking at her own books on Amazon to read the latest customer reviews, but he didn’t need to know what she did for a living. She was just some woman who happened to be staying at the same resort as him, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“Okay. Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

She’d often been asked how she came up with the material for her books. While it would have been nice to have a clever answer, there was none. Most of her ideas popped into her head at unexpected times and places, and often in the middle of the night. Sometimes she’d jolt awake at two or three in the morning with an idea that she’d be compelled to write down. When she and Adam had first started living together, he’d found it disruptive, but eventually he’d gotten used to it. It had become such a common occurrence that she always kept notepads and pens on her bedside table—until recently.