Page 28 of The Convict Gets His Girl

"Does it really matter? What are you even doing here, anyway?" she snapped, more harshly than she'd intended. She'd never been so jealous of a fucking horse.

He hesitated, sensing the tension, his hand pausing mid-motion on the horse. "I'm just here for some meds for the folks," he explained.

"Great, our secretary can take care of that for you. I have work to do," she spat out, the words laced with the venom of her fresh conflict with Destini.

Chase's expression shifted from concerned to guarded, a small frown forming on his lips as he took a step toward the door next to her. "Sorry to bother you, then," he said quietly.

Chase's boots scuffed the dirt as he came closer, then passed her, his silhouette framed by the doorway of the vet's office before it swallowed him whole. The door closed with a faint jingle, leaving Jewel alone with the echo of their strained exchange.

She pressed her palms against her eyes and groaned softly, the rough texture of the clinic wall scraping at her back through her shirt. What was she doing?

Chase wasn't the enemy. He was just caught in the crossfire of her maelstrom of emotions—a hurricane with her daughter at its eye. Guilt gnawed at her insides like a relentless pest, churning alongside the embers of anger still smoldering from her phone call with Destini.

Minutes passed in a haze of self-reproach, her fury dissolving into regret until she heard the door open again. Chase emerged, medicine in a plastic bag, his posture still broadcasting the hurt she'd inflicted. His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the air between them was thick with unsaid apologies.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he stepped around her without a word, slipping his hat back on as he walked to his horse. He looped the ends of the plastic bag of medicine around his belt loop before patting his horse, his voice too soft to hear.

Chase loosened the reins from around the hitching post, his movements deliberate and familiar. Her gaze followed the outline of the horse—a beautiful chestnut she knew he adored by how he caressed her neck. It was an image straight out of a Western, incongruous with the modern world bustling just streets away. All he was missing was a cowboy hat, but he'd never been fond of their rigidity.

How did she know that? A memory of their childhood flashed along with her anger.

He was just going to ride away and leave her in the dust, when all she really wanted was to have him hold her and tell her it was going to be alright. The realization of just how alone she was in all this chaos of her life—and the fact that she wanted him to kiss her and make it all better—made her emotions spike. Logically, she knew what she was feeling and what she wanted were irrational, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from mouthing off.

"Always have to be different, don't you?" she said, her voice carrying a bite that was more about her own turmoil than any real irritation at his choice of transportation.

Chase looked up, confusion washing over his open face before it settled into something more reserved. "Beg pardon?"

"I see you're still the weird Williams brother. Why don't you drive a truck like a normal person?" Jewel continued, unable to stop the words tumbling out, similar to what she'd heard in high school for years.

The transformation in Chase was immediate. The easygoing warmth that usually radiated from him seemed to evaporate as his shoulders squared, and his eyes lost their gentle spark. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached up to adjust the brim of his baseball hat—an old habit when discomfort edged into his space.

"Don't have a license," he replied, his voice low and even. "You know, because of vehicular manslaughter and all."

Jewel winced, the aftermath of her outburst settling heavily on her conscience. His tone, his words, his body language—it penetrated her mind and pulled her back from her own emotions, forcing her to think of him.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before rubbing a hand on the back of her neck.

"Chase, I—" Jewel's voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and forced herself to continue. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just—Destini called, and we had this big fight and—well, you don't want to hear about that. Just know, I'm sorry for my attitude. Today is all about me and my mess. You haven't done anything wrong, and you're not weird."

"Ah, Destini has you so upset then," he said, the relief in his voice obvious.

She dug her toe into the dirt, frustrated with herself for making him feel bad. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories about the accident or imply you were less than for not having a vehicle."

Chase snorted. "Imply? Hell, woman, you straight up called me weird."

Jewel's head snapped up at his tone, but when he winked, she snorted a laugh. "Well, to be fair, you always were, not that I minded. Can you blame me?"

He stroked his horse's neck and smiled, the tension around his eyes relaxing. "I'd never blame you for anything, my Jewel. You know that."

Her cheeks heated at the intense flash of desire on his face as he continued speaking.

"I'm working with the lawyer to get my license reinstated, though it could take a long time. At this rate, Destini might drive before I do. Does she have her permit yet? Does she know how to drive?"

The eagerness in his expression nearly broke her heart. It was almost as if hewantedto be Destini's father. Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she didn't know whether with happiness or dread.

"She knows how to drive but won't get her permit until she turns sixteen this fall. I'm sure she's already looked up ways to get her permit early though, since she wants to stay in Houston."

His hand paused on the horse, and he frowned at her. "She wants to stay in Houston?"

---