Back then, he hadn’t been as conservative as he was now. He’d been more like his father, Rider. With a rough edge. His mother, Eleanor, had taken it upon herself to sand those edges down on her boys. It’d worked on Chase, and while Zach fell into line with the company, his wild streak was still strong. Chase’s had been buried long ago. Hell, it was probably on the bottom of Flathead Lake in Montana.
Once he’d become certain of his political interests, he’d gladly gone from rough to refined. If he hadn’t gone the refined route, he imagined he’d have turned out like Emmett, who was best described as rough on the edges and in the middle. Emmett had started out in security—a perfect fit for his bulk and brawn—and it wasn’t long before Chase had asked him to run his security detail.
Emmett was still in charge of security, but his duties now spanned anything that had to do with Chase’s position as mayor. Loyalty was the one luxury you couldn’t buy in the world of politics, so Chase considered himself lucky that a lifelong friend had his back.
He lifted the photo again and tried to imagine himself with Mimi today. It’d been ten years since he’d seen her—since he’d said goodbye. She’d accused him of being a coward. Of being too obtuse to see what she’d seen so clearly. She’d stood on the airfield before boarding the private plane and shouted over the whining engine that they loved each other and were the kind of couple who could last forever.
If you give us a chance.
He hadn’t, though.
Chase pulled the lap drawer on his desk open and locked the photo inside. Despite Mimi’s passionate argument, he’d known then that they couldn’t know if they’d last forever after only a handful of months. No matter how good the sex had been or the way the minutes had folded over into hours and rolled into days and morphed into months.
The smile that found his face now wasn’t one of regret, but of memory. The weeks and months before their bitter end had been filled with Mimi’s laugh and her fingers ruffling his hair. He recalled the way she sighed in his ear, hot and quiet, when he made love to her. She’d dragged him to the lake on more than one occasion, torn off her clothes and his, and talked him into skinny-dipping in the full moon’s light.
Hopefully no photos of those nights resurfaced next.
Yes, he had a lot of good memories from that summer. Like the time they had sneaked onto a massive property overlooking the lake. The house was disgustingly arrogant in its placement and had boasted shamelessly from its many windowed rooms.
Eight bedrooms. Six bathrooms. Fifteen thousand square feet.
He knew because he’d kept a close eye on the property over the years, waiting on the elusive owner to die or move out.
The owner had put the mansion up for sale three years ago, and Chase purchased it for a cool sixteen mil. It’d been completely remodeled by then. During his walk-through he’d been awestruck by the fact that the inside was more immaculate and braggadocian than the outside. Multiple fireplaces, a hot tub alongside an indoor heated pool surrounded by huge rocks and a wine cellar to name a few of the amenities.
With the purchase of the mansion he also became owner of a good slice of the Flathead Lake shoreline. Since he’d purchased the place he’d been there three—no, four—times. He tried to visit once a year, minimum. During those trips, thoughts of Mimi didn’t cling to him like moss on a rock, but passed by like a leaf on the surface of a stream. He didn’t linger on memory or the past. What was the point?
He stood from his desk to take in the city outside his office window. Dallas sat fat and happy, calm and cooling down for autumn. He was eighteen months out from reelection, and though reelection efforts were always in swing, they wouldn’t be in full swing for a while.
His scheduled trip to Bigfork was likely his last chance to flee town, to untangle himself from the political spider web for a bit. If the worst happened—if Mimi became embroiled in political mudslinging, it’d be best if he were here in Dallas, not in her backyard.
He contemplated skipping the trip for all of two seconds. He could handle the press—good or bad. It’s how he’d been elected. He wasn’t shying away from the trip because of Mimi, nor was he going there for her.
The past was the past and the future was all that mattered.
Decision made.
Bigfork, here he came.
* * *
“Honestly, Stefanie.” Eleanor Ferguson tsked her only daughter from across the dining room table.
Stefanie rolled her eyes. Her mother tended to bring out the child in her. Probably because she was treated like one whenever they gathered for holidays. Or a pseudoholiday like this one.
She slid a glance over at her brothers. Chase, in a suit and tie, fresh from working late, sat rigidly in his chair. He hoisted one regal eyebrow at her but otherwise stayed silent. Zach sat next to his wife, Penelope, but he was too preoccupied with his ten-month-old daughter to pay attention to his bickering mother and sister.
The other party at the table wasn’t family at all. Emmett Keaton, Chase’s head of security and best friend, sat at the head of the table opposite her father. He silently ate a few forked green beans and watched her, expressionless as per his usual.
God, he made her crazy.
He’d been breathing down her neck since that unfortunate run-in with one of Chase’s sworn political enemies. Emmett had watched over her like a hawk since. She’d been so aware of his presence lately, she looked forward to any event that didn’t include him. Yet here he was.
“This doesn’t count as Thanksgiving,” Stef dropped her napkin on her empty plate and her mother, who’d been insisting she take the serving spoon, dropped it back into the mashed potatoes with a sigh.
The chef-prepared meal—Mom didn’t cook—was top-notch. Golden, buttery turkey, stuffing, French green beans, and a gravy boat brimming with brown gravy. There was only one problem.
“Thanksgiving isn’t for another two weeks. This is just...” Stef shook her head. “Wrong.”