Chase Meadows finished his steak and pushed back from the table.
"Happy birthday to me," he muttered to no one because there was no one to mutter it to.
How pathetic to spend his thirty-fifth birthday alone. He didn't have to. He had friends, well, friendly acquaintances. Ren Wei was probably his only true friend, and he was having tests run at the hospital.
Chase worried about all the medical tests, but they had an unspoken agreement. Until Ren was ready to tell him or could no longer do his job, Chase wouldn't ask. How unfortunate one of his episodes happened to coincide with Chase's birthday. Ren's timing was always slightly to the left.
He took a sip of his Macallan's whiskey—his gift to himself—and assessed his life. Thirty-five and a CEO of a major conglomerate, more money than God, good looking by anyone's standards, healthy, well-traveled. He'd surpassed the goals timeline he had set for himself when he was an undergraduate—except for one item. He always planned to marry and start a family by now. He wanted someone besides a housekeeper to come home to at night. He wanted a wife and two kids. Maybe a dog.
He had tried to have a serious relationship before, but women annoyed him. More specifically, their expectations annoyed him. Chase wanted someone willing to take on the role of stay-at-home wife and mother without making spending his money a life's goal. He wanted someone who put his happiness and needs first, someone who appreciated how hard he was willing to work for his family and rewarded him accordingly. He wanted someone to manage his household as efficiently as he managed his company. She should be healthy and bright and full of ideas but astute enough to know when to speak and when to accept his authority without question.
Bailey was not that person. He knew that from the moment he first saw her. Her personality switched from approachable to serpentine when the stage lights came on. What others described as her serene smile, Chase saw as predatorial, and the way she had treated Ren only went to prove he was right. Had he not seen it firsthand, he might not have believed it. After all, Lori Laker had a reputation as the modern-day Martha Stewart. A whole new generation saw her as the perfect role model of a homemaker, one who valued her contribution to the family as much as that of the breadwinner. While past episodes covered how to fold napkins and arrange a dinner party for twelve, many more analyzed the productivity of the average working male when he was able to return at night to a blissful home.
Her analysis was spot on. It was the reason Ren had recommended her for a contract. Chase was willing to bet his PA was regretting that decision now. She really tore him a new one.
Why was he thinking about her now? She wasn't his type. Her look was too every day. Not plain, but not sophisticated. Take, for instance, Lela Snow. She worked in the legal department and accompanied him for company functions. Lela was his type. She knew her place. When he wanted her, she was there. When he didn't, Lela had sense enough not to make demands.
Only Chase couldn't picture her in his space. Not once in the years they had known each other had he invited her over. They attended parties. They met at bars or a hotel. He'd taken her on vacations but never to his place. Never anywhere personal where she might leave an impression.
Lela made him look good. She was an accessory with a brain and a great pair of legs. Chase enjoyed it well enough when she wrapped those legs around him. Time with her wasn't earth-shattering, but it got the job done without regrets.
Looking around his concrete and glass loft, with its sparse artwork and clean lines, he wondered if he had left an impression in this place. The only pop of color was the turquoise sofa. Everything else was shades of gray as if he were passing through from one workday to the next.
Maybe that was it. Chase knew with absolute certainty, good or bad, that Bailey would leave an impression. But she wasn't here right now, and after tomorrow, she may be gone from his life forever. Ren would be relieved.
Lela was number ten on his speed dial. She ranked right behind his dentist. When she picked up the phone, he asked her to meet him at the Hotel Argentine.
"Um…I'd love to, but I'm kind of busy. Hold on for a minute."
Even though she muffled the phone, Chase caught bits of the conversation, a conversation that she was holding with a man who didn't sound pleased.
"He's a bother, but I've put in too much time to walk away now," Lela said to her companion.
Chase interrupted the couple, "Forget it. Bree just sent over some documents I need to review tonight." His secretary Bree was meticulous about clearing his calendar before the end of the workday when she returned home to her husband and kids. He could count on one hand the number of times she had to send him something after work hours. But Lela didn't know that. It was kinder than what he wanted to say.
He hung up and tossed the phone on the sofa. So much for company. Now it was just him and his Macallan's bottle. The golden-brown liquor was a sad substitute for what he wanted, but he'd make do.
When the phone rang, he was well into his cups and had difficulty locating where he had tossed his cell earlier.
The display indicated the caller was the one person he was willing to talk with tonight.
"Hey, Sam."
"You could call me dad."
"I could. What's wrong?"
"Gas prices are up, and wheat prices are down. What's wrong with you?"
"I'm good. What could be wrong?"
"It's your birthday, isn't it? Or am I thinking of one of my other sons?"
"You've only got the one."
"Well, happy birthday then. When you coming to see me?"
"I'm not sure. My schedule is pretty booked. You could come to me."
"I don't do city. Besides, who would feed my cows?"
"One of the fifty ranch hands you employ?"
"Oh, they can't do anything right without me here. You know that. It ain't their cows. No sense of responsibility."
"Yeah, most of them have been with you for more than twenty years. No sense of loyalty either."
Chase had loved growing up on the ranch with the fifty men he thought of as uncles. His dad and the ranch were safer in their hands than his own. At least they had stayed. He had left for college and never truly gone back. The ranch was a great place to grow up, but he could never see spending his life there. He had other aspirations that his father would never understand.
"You got that right." His dad coughed long and hard, the sound was coarse and filled with phlegm.
"Dad, what does the doctor say about that cough?"
Sam had smoked since he was a teenager. Since Chase was a young adult, Sam had developed a dry, hacking cough. In the last few years, he had noticed the old man losing weight and the coughing bouts lasting longer. Sam refused to let Chase have any access to his medical records, so all he could do was depend on the ranchers to keep him informed.
"He says it's a cough.'Course if you want to treat me like an old man and give me a couple of grandkids before I retire to my death bed, I won't complain, mind you."
"Why would I give you grandchildren if you won't take care of yourself and stay around to help raise them?"
"Maybe so I won't have to be worried about you being alone when I go. Did you ever think of that, Mr. College Graduate?"
"I'm seldom alone. The title CEO comes with a lot of mouths to feed."
"It's not the same, boy."
"It'll have to do for now." Chase looked around for his whiskey glass. When he couldn't find it, he drank straight from the bottle. "Well, that and this bottle I've got with me. Only I'm afraid it will give out before I pass out."
"Ah, you're celebrating the way I do most years. Alone and drunk. I get you. Well, I'll leave you to it then."
"Sounds good, Sam."
"Hey, Chase, I'm proud of you. Your mom would be, too. You know that, right?"
Chase never knew his mother. She had died in childbirth. Sam had remarried several times over the years, but none of the marriages lasted or produced more children.
"Yeah, I know."
"Past bedtime for old men. I love you."
The phone call ended before Chase could reply as it always did. He couldn't remember the last time his dad had given him the chance to say he loved him. It wasn't something the men in his family did. He was always surprised when Sam said it, and if he had to admit it, a little ill at ease hearing it.
Maybe expressing his love would be easier once he had a woman in his life. Someone like Baily. Not Bailey, of course, but someone strong who stood up for her beliefs and had gray-green eyes that sparkled brilliant green when she attacked.
Or maybe he would just drink.