Hunger hadn’t been in his thoughts until that very moment, but now…
Chase slapped a hand to his abs in an effort to diminish the sudden and incessant growling brought on by the tastebud-tempting scents. Sizzling sounds pulled his attention toward the massive commercial-grade gas stove covering half of the back wall.
Steam billowed up from some pots and pans covering a few of the burners.
He was still standing there, holding his midsection while he scanned the large space for Sloane when he heard a voice from somewhere he couldn’t see.
“If you’re here to pick up the first load of food, the boxes are marked and in the fridge.”
Warm. Feminine. Confident. A touch of rasp that reminded him of another time.
Another woman.
He turned his head toward the section of the room where the intriguing voice had originated. Sounds of stainless-steel cookware being moved around helped in his search for the person who’d just spoken.
“I’m, uh…I’m actually looking for?—”
“The chocolate tart truffles, cheesecake bites, crudité platters, and Boston Cream pie puffs are ready to go. They’re in the walk-in cooler on your right.”
His gaze slid to the right. Sure enough, there was a giant metal door with an air-tight seal. Good to know…if he’d come for the food.
“I’m not here for a pick-up,” he informed the invisible woman. “I’m trying to find Sloane Richardson. I was told she might be in here. You know where I can find her?”
“Oh! Sorry.” More clanging ensued. “I thought you were the volunteer here to pick up the first round of deliveries for tonight’s gala.”
A flash of long, sandy blonde hair caught his attention as the woman popped up from behind the room’s massive center island. Her back was to him, so he couldn’t see her face, and most of her body was shielded by the many pots and pans hanging from above. “Sloane was just in here a minute ago, but she mentioned having to make a last-minute run to the store. Is there something I can help you wi?—”
The woman turned around, her words falling off as fast and hard as Chase’s jaw dropped.
Holy shit. Is it really her?
In another life, Scottlynn Cahill was Chase’s high school sweetheart. In this one, she was his greatest regret.
The last time he was in a room with her, she’d been a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl. She’d worn glasses back then and had long, thick waves that had fallen all the way down to her waist. Her body had been smokin’ hot, or so he’d thought.
Fast forward to today, and Scottie was all grown up.
Her hair was half-up beneath an adorable as fuck chef’s hat. The glasses he remembered were gone, and there was a smudge of what he assumed to be flour across one of her flawless cheeks. Her body was hidden behind a long white apron.
But even with that, the jeans, and her white t-shirt, Chase could tell she’d filled out quite nicely over the years. In fact, from where he stood, she’d grown into the most beautiful woman he’d ever lain eyes on.
“Chase?” She reached up and removed the hat from her head. A few strands pulled free from the tight, neat bun there as she stared back at him with a look of utter surprise.
“Scottie?” He couldn’t believe his eyes.
She dropped the hat onto the stainless steel island and practically ran to where he stood. They both started talking at the exact same time.
“What are you?—”
“Oh, my god!” Scottie threw herself into his welcoming arms. “I can’t believe it’s really you!”
Chase wrapped his arms around her petite form and pulled her body flush with his. His lids fell shut, and he savored the moment. It had been fourteen years since they’d said their goodbyes. Nearly a decade and a half since his heart had been silently shattered.
He’d kept the pain well hidden in the days and months that had followed. From her. From the rest of the world.
But deep, deep inside—in a place no one since Scottie had ever been allowed to reach—slivers of the heartache he’d experienced from losing her still lingered.
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