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  Worth the Chase

  J.D. Hollyfield

  Worth the Chase

  Copyright © 2022 J.D. Hollyfield

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  Cover Photography: Michelle Lancaster

  Cover Model: Andy Murray

  Editor: Word Nerd Editing

  Proofing: Novel Mechanic

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  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

  To my readers. May you always feel worth it.

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  To my family. Thanks for requiring dinner every night and making this book take forever. Next book ya'll are getting chicken nuggies.

  Contents

  Blurb

  1. Chase

  2. Chase

  3. Bridget

  4. Chase

  5. Chase

  6. Chase

  7. Chase

  8. Bridget

  9. Chase

  10. Chase

  11. Chase

  12. Bridget

  13. Chase

  14. Bridget

  15. Bridget

  16. Chase

  17. Bridget

  18. Chase

  19. Bridget

  20. Chase

  21. Bridget

  22. Chase

  23. Chase

  24. Bridget

  25. Chase

  26. Bridget

  27. Bridget

  28. Chase

  29. Bridget

  30. Chase

  31. Bridget

  32. Chase

  33. Bridget

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Where To Find Me

  More from J.D. Hollyfield

  Acknowledgments

  Never Miss An Update!

  Blurb

  From USA Today bestselling author J.D. Hollyfield comes a heartwarming, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy about falling in love with your one-night stand. But of course, it can’t be that easy.

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  Chase

  * * *

  Hit it and quit it.

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  That’s always been my motto. Falling in love is for chumps and I vow to never go down that road again. So, when a bombshell blonde approaches me at the bar looking to hook up, I am more than willing to oblige.

  * * *

  One night is my limit, but after our night of passion, I would change my rules for another round with her. Shame, the only proof she even existed is the lingering scent of cherries and the damn smile I can’t get rid of.

  * * *

  Or so I thought.

  * * *

  Bridget

  * * *

  Losing the love of your life puts your whole world into perspective, especially when the one man who is supposed to protect you is the very man who took it all away. I’m done feeling betrayed. From now on I make the rules. And currently, my eyes are set on the tan, muscular, guy sitting at the bar. I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me. One night together is exactly what I need.

  * * *

  But when I open the front door to my cousin's house, and I see him standing on the other side...that's the moment everything gets complicated.

  And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.

  -Edward Cullen

  Chapter 1

  Chase

  Un-fucking-believable.

  I chug my beer and jump off the barstool to grab another, tossing my empty bottle into the garbage next to Levi, one of my best-friends-turned-lame-ass, on the way.

  “What’s got your panties in a bunch, man?” Kipley, who hasn’t seen his balls since he got married and had a baby, leans against the counter, sipping on… Jesus, what is that? A spritzer?

  I stare him down, appalled he doesn’t know why I’m appalled. My best friends have turned into a bunch of vaginas—that’s what’s wrong.

  “First you, now him? I mean, you’re seriously gonna let him go through with this? He banged your sister. You should kick his ass. Prevent this snuggle fest bullshit.” I mean, who allows their best friend to defile their little sister and live to talk about it?

  Kip, apparently, since he just laughs. “I already kicked his ass, and I’m fine with it. He loves her, man.”

  “So! I love lots of things. I don’t turn crazy and buy a ring and set off to marry them all!” I can’t believe Levi is going to hand in his man card over a chick and propose. I scoff to myself and throw the fridge door open. Snatching a bottle, I twist the cap, needing the long pull of cold beer to calm me.

  “Dude, why do you care so much? Relax.”

  I stare Kip down. How is it not obvious? “I care because our guys’ nights have turned into tea parties. What happened to sports night, strip clubs, the casino?”

  “We grew up—”

  “Exactly! Ever since these chicks tied you down, it’s like you have no balls. You never want to go out. I heard you talking to Ben about goddamn diaper rash, and Levi just suggested we watch a fucking movie!”

  Kip laughs again, irritating me further. “With the tantrum you’re having, maybe you could use some diaper rash cream.” He ducks as I whip my bottle cap at his head. “Come on, chill out. One day, you’ll find a girl who sweeps you off your pretty feet, and you’ll be here, laughing at this moment, suggesting we watch The Notebook.”

  If I could throw my beer at him, I would. Instead, I drain it. “Fuck no.”

  “What’re we talking about?” Levi walks in from taking a call from Hannah, Kip’s little sister, who’s having her own girls’ night with Stacey, Kip’s ball and chain. May as well throw anchor in there since he’s plummeting deep into whipped status.

  “Chase is having another moment,” Kip answers.

  Levi eyes me. “Dude, again? He’s completely okay with Hannah and me.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Are you sure? I mean, you banged his sister. Baby Hannah. He should kick your ass.”

  “He already kicked my ass.” He chuckles, then goes to the fridge for a beer.

  I slam my empty beer bottle on the counter. “Whatever. These chicks, man. They have you all brainwashed. Even Ben. Look at his sorry ass sitting on the couch texting like a girl!” We all look over, finding Ben, a cheeky grin on his face.

  “Hey, don’t hate the playa. These Tinder chicks love me. I'm a swipe right commodity.”

  I shake my head. “We should have taken my suggestion.”

  “Sorry, bro, can’t do strip clubs.”

  “Or the casino.”

  “Yeah, I got super sick after that night you tried slipping me ecstasy,” Ben chimes in, barely lifting his nose from his phone.

  “Fine,” I grumble, pushing off the counter and grabbing my jacket. “You girls have fun knitting ball sac holders for your girlfriends and wives. I’m outta here.” The room full of laughing jerks is silenced as I throw the door shut behind me.

  I warned them all. Chicks require commitment. And with commitment comes a jail sentence. They insist on stealing your livelihood and demanding you spend every waking minute with them, ditching all your old ways—all of which were just fine before they came and ruined everything. I never once heard Ben complain
on a strip club night. Or Levi when we went on long trips for football games and tailgating. Even Kipley, who’s been tied to his girl since high school, didn’t make a peep when we had our three-day golf outings and got so plastered he woke up missing his pants, only to find them up in a tree outside our rental house.

  Traitors.

  I step outside and search for an Uber, putting in the Wild Horse bar as my destination. I always get lucky there. Tons of chicks with no expectations. Thank God. One minute away. I raise my head to the sky and breathe in the crisp night air, contemplating finding new friends. The Uber pulls up, and I throw myself into the backseat, shoving my hands through my impeccable sandy-blond hair. All the good times, the fun we had…it’s all come to a halt. Fun isn’t even in their vocabulary. One by one, they’re getting neutered. Those chicks must have magical vaginas. There’s no other way to explain how they’re doing it.

  “S’up, man?” the driver says. “See you’re headed to the Wild Horse. Hope you’re single. I just dropped off my third carload of chicks there. Seems to be the place tonight if you’re looking for a good time.”

  Now he’s speaking my language. I sit forward. “Oh yeah? Do tell.”

  “Think you’re the one who’s gonna have to tell me. Wish I wasn’t on the clock. Otherwise, I’d make a stop there myself.”

  Hells yeah! Chicks. Tons of them. My kind of night. “Well, let’s get a move on, my man.” I lean back, feeling a little less uptight and more intrigued by the night to come.

  The driver drops me off, handing me his card if I need a ride home. I thank him and make my way into the bar. The place is packed. Nineties music blares from the speakers along the packed dancefloor. He wasn’t lying. Chicks are everywhere. There has to be a solid eight-to-two ratio.

  I brush my palms together. “Gotta love wedding season.” Every female within a hundred-mile radius celebrating their bestie, cousin, sister’s last outing of singlehood. Bridesmaids are my specialty. And the single ones are the easiest to spot. Always dressed in outfits that would make their grannies keel over.

  Little things set each bridesmaid apart. The married ones always have their tits on full display, though they still wear their family locket with their kids and husband around their neck. The ones who have boyfriends love to flash all aspects of their body and offer themselves on the dancefloor, knowing their friends will pull them away before anything goes too far. And then there are the single ones—the ones thirsty for attention and waiting for someone like me to swoop in, charm their panties off, and offer them a night to remember.

  My single lady radar is off the charts. Like a hungry lion who just walked into a den full of prey, my Cheshire smile almost hurts as I head over to the bar. I need a drink or two before I choose my main course for the night.

  “What can I get ya, bud?” the bartender asks as I slide onto an open stool.

  “Double tequila soda.” I slap a twenty onto the bar and rotate in my stool to get a full view of the menu. Brunette? Redhead? Maybe a blonde—?

  Sniffling from my right steals my attention. I twist on the stool to check out the poor sap next to me, not sure how anyone can strike out when there’s enough to go around.

  “Hey…uh, you okay?” I ask, shocked to find a petite blonde. Blondes aren’t typically my first pick—especially not crying ones. My comfort level dips. The girl doesn’t answer me as another tear slides down her cheek.

  I tap my foot on my chair and look over to the bartender, hoping he hurries up with my drink so I can move on. Consoling crying chicks is more Ben’s department.

  “Sorry, I’ve just…my…my…”

  Ahhh…let me guess. The breakup cry. I’ve been the saving grace for a few of those. No better way to get over one than to get under another. Looks like this may be my department after all.

  “…dad. He just passed away.”

  Way off. Shame I don’t do mourning chicks. They require lots of cuddling afterward—not my area of expertise. She turns toward me as I let her down gently. “Yeah, sorry but—sweet Jesus…” I choke as she removes her hands from her face and I catch my first sight of her. I swear, an angel just fell from heaven and landed next to me. Words escape me. I stutter out some, but it’s all gibberish. Shit. I blink. My dick pokes at my jeans, wanting a peek for himself.

  “Are…are you okay?” Her voice is as magical as the mouth it’s coming from. Mmm, mouth. Pink, plump—

  “Hello?”

  Who? What?

  I shake my head. “Uh…yeah. Fine.” Just confused how anyone can be so painstakingly beautiful—say what? I need to rip my eyes away and search out the pussy who just used the words painstakingly beautiful. Tears stain her rosy cheeks. Her skin practically sparkles. Not like my favorite vampire movie, which is fucking awesome—keeping that one to myself—but damn, is this chick flawless. I take in her eyes, a deep set of silver sparkling with flecks of blue, sucking me into a trance. I feel like a damn bug flying into the blue light.

  Shit, what’s wrong with me?

  It has to be her eyes. I’ve never seen anything like them. And her lips. Soft. Pillowy. I’m suddenly willing to give up my right testicle to know what they taste like. What the hell is happening? Am I having an existential crisis? Nervous breakdown? This chick is no angel, more like the devil trying to get me to change my ways. And she seems to be winning. All I can think about is holding her, talking to her, taking her out.

  “Jesus, who are you?” The words come blurting out. I place the back of my hand against my forehead. Do I have a fever? The bartender places my drink on the bar, and I take an impressive pull.

  “Excuse me?” Her voice is soft and angelic, the sound of innocence banging on my door of damnation. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She eyes me warily—a look I’m not used to receiving from an attractive girl…or any female. I flip through my mental Rolodex for lines to smooth this over, so she doesn’t think I’m a complete freak, but everything that comes out is wrong.

  “Yeah, just feel funny—no, I mean, I’m hungry—I mean…yeah, I’m hungry, but that’s not why—have you seen Twilight? Maybe we could go out sometime and watch—Jesus!” I grab my glass and drain it. That confirms it. She’s been sent straight from the devil to break me. I, Chase Steinberg, will not be broken by a chick.

  A smile creeps across her face, revealing two dimples, and I fall farther under her spell.

  She bites on her lower lip. “I’ve actually never seen it.”

  I spit my drink out all over the bar. “What? Impossible! Everyone’s seen—” What the fuck am I doing? “I mean…I just thought all chicks were into that kind of shit.” I need to get out of here before she sucks away my soul…amongst other things. Shit, my best friend down below twitches at the thought. Those lips. Those innocent demon eyes—

  “Bartender! I’ll take another. Actually—make it two.” I need to drown out these foreign sensations jostling inside my chest. Even her clothes are doing weird things to me, and she’s not even done up like she’s at a bachelorette party in dire need of my services. She’s dressed more casually in a pair of tight jeans, the two rips at her knees giving me a tease of her creamy skin, and a black tank top revealing her small, perky chest.

  “Well, I’m not like other chicks. Anyway, sorry to bother you with my problems. I was just hoping—”

  “I will.” The words shoot off my tongue before my brain cares to hear the rest of her question. When you have two heads thinking for you, one always comes through before the other.

  “You will?” She looks surprised, but those lips—pure, soft lips—curl into a smile made from heaven, and I fall down the rabbit hole of all things her.

  I sit straighter in my chair, brushing away the nonexistent wrinkles from my shirt. I have no idea why. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want. We can just sit here and talk if you want.” What the goddamn hell just came out of my mouth?

  The bartender finally brings over my drinks. I snatch one glass and chug it, wincing at the burning in my t
hroat, wondering who’s taken control of my mind and body. I’ve never in my life offered to just talk to a girl. At least not this kind of talking. And I just offered to listen!

  I turn back to her. “Are you the devil?” Shit, that was rude. But also vital.

  Her laugh is anything but evil, tickling every nerve-ending in my body. “I don’t think so. I’ve been known to disobey my God a time or two, but I’m definitely no devil.” Her teeth are white and perfect. I bet she brushes three times a day, up, down, left to right, just like that dental hygienist told me the night she was sucking—shit, focus. “Are you the devil?” she throws back, her curious eyes and tender smile telling me to shut the hell up and stop ruining this.

  “Well, that depends. What kind of company are you looking for tonight?” There I am! Finally, laying down the first Chase Steinberg pick-up line. Phew. I was getting nervous there for a second.