The Wrangler Takes a Wife (Silver Creek Ranch #7)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

C hase

Time was flying by faster than Chase would like. Today was already their seventh month anniversary. He’d marked the milestone of their wedding each month. It was a little over the top, but their circumstances weren’t typical of the average couple. Their wedding day was special in more ways than one. He genuinely felt like the luckiest man alive. Amara was the most beautiful bride.

The celebration left Chase conflicted. Part of him wanted to whisk her away so they could be alone. While the other part wanted to stay and enjoy the vibrant and joyful atmosphere of the wedding celebration filled with laughter and music echoing through the air. In the end, it was Amara’s smile which made the decision for him. They stayed all night as their guests mingled under twinkling fairy lights, creating a magical setting that seemed right out of a storybook. The scent of fresh flowers and delicious food wafted through the barn, adding to the festive mood. The camaraderie was its own reward. Spending the majority of the night with her dancing in his arms and her eyes sparkling was the other.

The monthly celebrations were his way of reminding her how special that night was. How it was so much more than their agreement. Amara loved taking care of her feet. After a long shift, he massaged her them. This month, his gift was a basket of foot care products from a company she liked.

“Seriously? You are going to give your wife that jacked up looking gift basket?” Ryan asked.

Chase looked at his handy work. He had to admit his assembly could use some work. The bow he ordered would have made it look better. “I’d like to see you do better,” he said knowing Ryan would take him up on it.

“Give it here.” Ryan reached for the basket. “I’m only helping you because I like Amara.”

Not surprisingly, his friend emptied the basket and had it looking professional in no time. He learned the skill from his mom, who owned a craft shop. “There. All done.” Ryan pushed the basket towards him.

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do. I appreciate Amara letting me use her cottage when I visit.”

Since the wedding, Ryan had visited often. It was nice having him around. Most of the time. Beneath his playful demeanor was an extremely perceptive person.

Ryan didn’t share his insights with everyone. Chase was one of the few people who was privy to it, whether he wanted to be or not. Which had been the case during his visit for the wedding.

“So, you’ve put aside the idea of leaving ranching behind you?”

“No.”

“You’re still going off to join Bolton’s security company?”

“That’s the plan.” One of their fellow Rangers, Bolton, had been putting a security firm together, and Chase had planned to leave the ranching life behind to join the company. He’d already invested a substantial amount.

“But you just got married.”

“I can make it work.”

“Pfft.” Ryan looked skeptical. “How? The headquarters are in another country, not to mention the amount of travelling that comes with the gig.”

“Thank you for looking out for me, but I'll figure it out.”

“Look at you doing romantic gestures and shit. It’s good seeing you settled,” Ryan teased, pointing to the basket.

Chase immediately came to alert. His friend wasn’t being subtle. He had a good idea where this conversation was heading.

“What do you want to get off your chest?”

“Have you told Amara about your plans to join Bolton?”

“Fuck not this again.” Chase stroked his beard.

“Yes, this again.”

Back at Silver Creek, they agreed to hold each other accountable. Ryan took that shit seriously.

“I just wanted to remind you it was ranching that saved you. Brought you back from losing who you were. Maybe walking away from it and the woman you love is the wrong fucking move.”

“I didn’t say anything about walking away from Amara!” Chase snapped.

“Aren’t you? Taking the job will affect what you are building here.”

Chase heard Ryan loud and clear. His friend knew in the past Chase's ability to compartmentalize was a huge fault he had. He’d realised that at Silver Creek. When he returned from his last deployment, Chase didn’t examine the things he had to do on the mission. He chalked it up to following instructions and doing his job by keeping the civilians and his team safe. Chase tucked away some of the more unpleasant activities he did on missions to accomplish the goal. The ends justified the means.

It took a year before it all came crashing down around him. He was out for a run, and he saw some preteens playing soccer in a field. The smell of gunfire and a metallic tang assaulted his nostrils. It all came rushing back.

The hardest part of what he’d done on his last mission with snuffing out the lives of child soldiers. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate despite his conviction that they didn’t fully understand what they were doing or even wanted to be there. He still had to pull the trigger on little boys, who looked like they were playing dress up in oversized uniforms holding automatic guns too large for their hands. It was kill or be killed. Or worse, allow them to take lives.

Guilt. Crippling guilt drove him to his knees as he watched the boys in the field. Suddenly, his justifications meant nothing. Chase had gone home and couldn’t bring himself to face the horror of taking so many young lives. He couldn’t sleep or eat. If Ryan hadn’t come and found him, Chase might have given into the temptation of playing Russian roulette with his revolver.

Chase considered all of it before he answered from a place of honesty. “If the choice is her, or anything else. It’s an easy call.” As Chase said those words aloud, he realised he meant it. Fuck! When had he gone and fallen in love with Amara? The thought should have terrified him, but instead he smiled in acceptance.

“You know Bolton doesn’t do refunds.” Ryan was so infuriating with his level of surety.

“I know. It’ll be an investment. He knows where to send my cheques.”

As Chase washed up, he thought about what he’d said to Ryan. It wasn’t lost on him that he had used the word ‘choice’. Amara’s parents had a lot to do with it. He smiled at the memory of first meeting her parents right before the ceremony. Of course, he had known who they were immediately. Roddick was a carbon copy of Amara’s father. The only difference was a few wrinkles and a head full of grey hair. Her mother looked like an older sister, but with a lighter complexion.

The couple came to see what kind of man their daughter married. Amara’s mother did most of the talking. Her father had barely spoken. So, Chase recalled every word the man uttered. The thing which stuck out the most was. “Marriage is a choice you make every day.”

At the time, Chase had just smiled and nodded, but now he understood what Mr. Welch meant.

By the time he pushed open Amara’s partially open office door at the diner, Chase was in a fantastic mood. He was going to profess his love for his wife. Maybe she wasn’t there yet, but she was on her way. Over the last several months, their lives had fit together like a seamless puzzle.

“Hey, Sweet—” his greeting died on lips at the sight before him. A man he’d never seen had Amara trapped in his arms, and she was fighting to push him away.

“Let go!” she cried. The man tightened his grip, his expression shifting from surprise to determination. “Come on Amara, I’ve missed you.”

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Chase hissed as he marched over to them. His heart pounded with adrenaline, fueled by a protective rage he could barely control. On autopilot, he grabbed a hold of the man’s neck and skillfully executed a ranger’s hold. Every instinct screamed at him to ensure her safety, and he felt a fierce determination which left no room for doubt or hesitation. Anger pulsed through his veins, sharpening his focus and lending strength to his grip. The man crumbled to the floor, with Chase kneeling over him, his hand still around his throat.

“Chase,” Amara cried. “Let go.”

“Who is he?”

“Please, let go before you…”

He lifted his hands in the air. “He’s fine. Just passed out.” He nudged him with his boot. Turning to her, he held her arms. “Are you okay?”

“Fletcher is one of my suppliers.”

There was something about the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes that raised his hackles. “And?”

“Don’t take that tone with me. Fletcher and I?—”

“Stop saying his name.” Hearing the man’s name leave her lips was irritating. Irrational? Yes, but also very irritating.

“We had a no strings attached… um, situation.”

“Meaning?”

“We used to hook-up.” Amara rolled her eyes at him. Then pulled away from Chase.

“Is Fle?—”

Chase arched his eyebrow, cutting her off.

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah. He’ll come to, soon.” Chased looked over at the man who just had his hands on his wife. The Fletcher guy was traditionally good looking. He was a tall, light-skinned black man with an athletic build. His hair was short with a fashionable fade. A crisp dress shirt and designer dockers showed he took pride in his attire. Was he Amara’s type? Either way, it didn’t matter. Chase was her type now. “So, he didn’t get the memo you are off of the market?”

“I guess not. Actually, I thought he no longer worked for the supply company. He let himself in from the back. I think he came directly to my office.”

“Either way, he should have kept his hands to himself.”

“Did you have to make him pass out?”

“Yeah, he had his hands on my wife.”

Fletcher murmured as he came to. Chase watched on with a bored expression. Amara offered the supplier a seat. “Are you okay?”

“Yea. What happened?”

“You passed out,” Amara explained. “What are you doing here?”

Fletcher looked around. His eyes landed on Chase, who was leaning against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. “Who is he?”

“Her husband. She asked what you are doing here?” Chase was feeling far from patient.

“Shit, I had no idea.” Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about before.” He got to his feet but stumbled.

“Please sit. I’ll get you something to drink.” Amara turned to her husband. “I’ll be right back.” Her eyes pleaded with Chase to be on his best behaviour.

Fuck that! Chase did nothing to ease the discomfort Fletcher felt. Instead, Chase’s physical presence only added to it; he stood nearby, exuding an air of authority and dominance. The steady and unwavering gaze Chase maintained only added to the tension. It was apparent Fletcher felt the weight of Chase’s scrutiny. The tension in the room was palpable, making Fletcher shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Eventually Fletcher became so uncomfortable, he apologised again. “I should have called before I came to visit.”

“You think?” Chase quipped.

Amara returned with a bottle of water and offered it to Fletcher. He took the bottle and a long swig of the drink.

“I thought you quit working for the supply company.”

“Um. Shit. Totally embarrassing. I did. I stopped by to see you.” While he spoke, he looked down at the floor. He got to his feet as Chase cleared his throat. “I’m going to head out.” Despite recently being incapacitated, he hurried. “Bye,” Fletcher called as he walked out the door.

Amara closed it behind, then moved to stand beside Chase. “That was awkward.”

“Yup.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Chase unfolded his arms, allowing them to drop to his sides. She had asked if he was okay, but he had a feeling she really meant if they were okay. “I’m fine,” he answered, pulling her, so she stood between his open legs. He continued, “also we are good.” Chase kissed her like he had been wanting to do all day. Slow and thoroughly.

“Happy seven-month anniversary, Sweet Darling.” Chase winked at her as she rolled her eyes. She returned his smile.

“Ready to head home so we can celebrate?” He asked.

“If I must.”

“Or we can celebrate here. But you know how loud you get.”

“Wrangler. Oh, my God,” she squeaked.

Chase chuckled. “See, just like that.”