4

What. A. Stunner.

Three small words, paired with a mouth-watering image, displaced everything else in Chase’s world as the spritely blonde who had tumbled into him pre-performance drew near, circling through the crowd. Her level of poise and confidence could leave a body wondering if she didn’t in fact own the Grand Ole Opry and its famed after-performance gathering space. Crash—as he liked to think of her now—was none other than Pyper Brock, Tyler Brock’s daughter and an up-and-comer in the Christian music scene. She had a great smile. He focused on full, generous lips that tempted with a sweetness he could all but taste. Nice curves, too. She retained an easy, natural grace that set her skirt line skimming against slim legs and drew his attention to them quite nicely, thank you.

When she broke free of her conversational tribe and sashayed toward the spot where he stood, Chase experienced a flood of expectation, a push of wistful desire and heat. He froze against those thoughts and gave that pull of longing a real fast shove to the rear. Bad idea, Chase. Very bad idea. Stop where you stand. Can you imagine how her rock-solid, upstanding father would react to the display of any interest on your part?

She stepped into place at the end of the line right next to a man Chase recognized from the show tonight; that’s when a whole new development tossed ice water against the warm slide of attraction toward the woman. Evidently she had earned the attention of Darren McCree, a guitarist who had backed her and her daddy during the show tonight. A man in the band. The two were most likely off to a proper and perfect life together. God bless ’em both.

Fortified, Chase ignored the encroachment of an impossible, romantic fantasy and concentrated instead on the more important task of networking. He pressed palms, worked through the growing layers of industry suits, media members and fans. All the while, he remained easy-spirited, grateful for every show of support. Yet, his gaze tracked to the sweet innocence of Pyper Brock. A pierce-point struck home at the center of his heart. He could have sworn he felt a bleeding start deep within—a hemorrhaging for something he could never have.

Too much time wasted ever to be young again. Too much time wasted ever to taste pure again. To be worth more than…

Forgiveness.

Just like that, a flash sent his mind far from the charms of a fascinating woman. He tumbled headfirst into a song that came to life, breaking free from a spot in his soul he hesitated to approach, let alone open wide. He stood immobile, fearful and exhilarated at the same time.

Forgiveness.

A song with meaning like that would be great, but it would also require exposure—the kind of soul-deep exposure that would only come after exhaustive revelation. Could he do it? Right now, he just didn’t know. After all, once chains like that were unlocked, who knew what might spring free—good or bad? Risky? Yes, absolutely. Worth the gain? In the end, who knew but God?

Forgiveness.

Chase’s focus returned to Pyper. Something about the woman kept pulling at him. Maybe it was those soft, ruby lips he had enjoyed perusing. Maybe it was something in the radiance of her eyes and demeanor—as if she bubbled with love and simply let it flow over the ones closest to her. She captivated him because she was alive and unguarded. Self-assured. She walked with a degree of confidence that could only come after being brought up right, with a careful blend of love and discipline that had obviously molded her into a formidable woman.

In short, she possessed all the benefits he wished like crazy he could have found in his own life.

“Excuse me…ah…Chase Bradington, right?”

Thank goodness for interruptions. Chase delivered himself to the moment at hand, placing his smile even before he turned to face…

A kid? A teen? A handsome, earnest youth with an almost familiar look to him. The eyes of blue in particular, spoke of something familiar, but…

The boy extended his hand with smooth aplomb, like a polished adult. “I’m Zachary Brock.” Only then did he shuffle his feet a trace. “Zach, actually. I just wanted to say hello and tell you how much I’ve always loved your music. Great to see you back on stage again. You did an excellent job tonight and everything.”

Chase’s smile warmed from ‘performer’ to authentic when he met Zach’s straight-on gaze. No wonder the kid looked familiar. He was probably a replica of his father when he was in his mid-teens. Chase saw the resemblance clearly now.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zach. Thanks for your kind words. I appreciate them. Your daddy is incredible. He’s a mighty tough act to follow.”

“Tell me about it.” Zach’s gaze flicked to the spot where Tyler stood, then to the ground as if somewhat embarrassed by the admission.

Chase’s comment had been innocent, an ice-breaker, but it visibly shook the kid. Chase recognized battle lines—stress fractures waiting to expand. He did his best to countermand those developments. “You have a great family. Count yourself lucky. I’ve known them for years by reputation, of course, but it’s nice to get to meet them officially.”

“You sounded amazing. Will ‘Burning Bridges’ be on the next album?”

Obviously Zach wanted to drop the topic of family. Fair enough. Chase didn’t push. Besides, the kid’s optimism was a panacea, the best form of medicine he’d received since exiting Reach. “I sure hope so. I’m looking to get something started for certain.”

Zach went silent for a moment. “You will. You’re an incredible musician.” He hesitated again and Chase absorbed another resemblance.

With eager optimism and innocent enthusiasm, Zachary Brock put him in mind of someone else. Shayne Williams, back in the day.

“I hope you’re feeling OK. You went through a terrible set of circumstances, and I can’t wait to watch you prove what you’ve got all over again.”

The words were like a mystical response to the connection Chase had just made. God at work. Zach seemed bent on conveying his support, yet cautious of stepping into territory best left alone. Shayne would have reacted just the same. This youngster’s warmth left Chase wanting to open up and respond in kind.

“I won’t lie. That kind of affirmation is something I’m awfully glad to hear right about now. Working the stage tonight was equal parts terror and adrenaline rush.”

“Man, I can’t even imagine how cool it must have felt to—”

“Mr. Bradington. Good evening.”

Conversation stopped immediately and Chase’s world froze as Pyper strolled into place next to her brother. Inky lashes fluttered against an ocean of luminous blue; her lips tilted upward as their gazes connected, and held.

Chase caught his breath, steeled his spine. “Pyper Brock. I’m delighted to meet you, formally that is.”

She chuckled. “I see. So, that little body blow from earlier wasn’t quite formal enough for you?”

“Not nearly. You OK, by the way?”

“I don’t intend a lawsuit, so rest easy. Thanks for the great performance tonight. You rocked the house. Congratulations.”

What awesome sass and personality. Chase’s regard for Zach faded to the background fast, though he noticed the way Pyper’s brother kept close tabs on their interaction. “I’d like to say the same to you and your daddy. You must be awfully proud, crash.”

“To levels I can’t even contain, but, excuse me, ‘crash’?”

She moved a step closer then another—whether for food or connection Chase couldn’t quite tell. Handing her a plate then nabbing one for himself, he delivered a negligent shrug. “If the name fits…”

Chase went to work retrieving a cluster of grapes, some strawberries, a couple skewers of chicken satay and a handful of veggies accompanied by a dollop of creamy dip. He munched on a few of the grapes, avoiding her eyes. Next he snagged a small stack of crackers and some cheese cubes.

“I shouldn’t have referred to you as ‘bad boy.’ That was mean and uncalled for. I apologize for that.”

Chase flicked a glance in her direction. Those eyes of hers were breathtaking. “Don’t worry about it. I knew you didn’t mean any harm. Let’s start from scratch.” He extended his hand to pave a road to fresh starts. Also, he wanted to touch her—to feel her hand in his.

She accepted the gesture, but a sudden and shy hesitance filled the space between them. Chase pondered that reaction. Had he just earned the upper hand? With Pyper Brock? He sensed that didn’t happen often. Lips twitching, he nudged her gently out of the way so he could nab a couple crispy ovals of garlic toast. At least that way he got to invade her space a little. She jumped back slightly. He grinned. Playing with her was kind of fun.

All at once, she stopped filling her plate and an expression of intrigue colored her features. Chase tracked the line of her gaze straight to a spot on his right wrist where a rolled up shirt sleeve revealed a small purple cross that had been inked into permanence by a tattoo artist.

“You’re a believer.”

The observation, so simple and straightforward, struck against the most important facet of his rebirth, recovery, and commitment to life. “Very much so.”

“A tattoo?”

“Yep. A memorial, and a reminder.”

“I sense there’s a story behind your story.”

He discovered he liked being the recipient of her intrigue. “There is at that. In short, the cross memorializes my best friend, and it’s also a permanent reminder of who I belong to from here on out.”

“Shayne Williams and God.”

“Yep.”

She set aside her plate and took hold of his hand, cupping it in both of hers so she could examine the tattoo. She brushed her thumb light against the surface of his skin; his pulse took off as heat built and stirred his senses.

“I wanted to honor him and the changes I went through as I dealt with…recovery.”

One look into her eyes and he knew she didn’t need a roadmap through the terrain of his past and his very public fall from grace.

“You’re all about your faith now.”

Chase nodded.

“I could that tell by the lyrics you wrote. You’ve found Christ.”

He nodded once more, relishing the sensation of her touch.

“It’s purple. Why’s that?”

“Think about it, Pyper. What does the color purple symbolize?”

Puzzling briefly, she blinked—then made a connection. “Royalty.”

“The lady isn’t just beautiful, she’s smart, too.” Chase registered the quick touch of pink that tinged her cheeks at the compliment, then he looked down, glad their connection lingered. Her skin formed such a soft and creamy contrast next to his. “Christ is the King of kings. I thought the color fit.”

“It does. It’s perfect. I love it.”

She released his hand and her smile worked through him like sunlight.

“About the whole ‘bad boy’ thing…I really was just being a smart-mouth, and I also hope the nickname doesn’t fit you anymore. After all, tonight was about winning back trust, right? A chance to shut up the critics and regain loyalty? After listening to your new song, I promise I’m one of the folks cheering for you, Chase. Come back, y’hear? All the way back. Your talent’s too good to waste.”

Now carting a full plate—when had that happened exactly?—she tilted her head, delivered a tender wink before turning and walking away. Enchanted, Chase stared, wondering. Did she practice that pretty little spin move in her spare time? The decidedly feminine exit worked on him like a spell, especially when she added that mind-blurring smile, and the sparkle of those warm, beckoning eyes.

For the rest of the night, Chase lost himself in the afterglow, but his attention stayed glued to Pyper.