Chance (The One More Night Series) by Christina Ross Read Free Book Online

unusually close right now.  I wonder how that happened?  Gravity?  Is that it?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Actually, I don’t.”
    “You’re rich.  I’m poor.”
    “Who’s to say that you won’t be rich one day, and that I won’t be poor again?”
    “Again?”
    “Yes, again.  Maybe we’re just two people who happened to meet for a specific reason neither of us know about yet.”
    “Now you sound like a hippie.”
    “Probably because my parents were hippies.  As for money?  Money is just money, Abby.  It’s a thing, not a person.  It’s not important.  It has no depth.  In fact, it often just fucks everything up.  Maybe we’re here tonight because this was meant to be.  Maybe it’s as simple as that.  Why complicate things?  Why can’t we just be two people who have come together for reasons neither of us will ever know?”
    “I didn’t mean to complicate anything.  It’s just that you intimidate me.”
    “Because of your perception of what I’m worth?”
    “Yes—and because I’m attracted to you.”
    His voice was gentle when he spoke.  “Do you think that you’re the only one who’s intimidated right now?”
    “Why would I intimidate you?”
    “Because I can’t take my eyes off you.  Because you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.  You’re bright.  You’re unaffected.  And yet somehow, you’ve also remained innocent.  I can’t believe that you’re here with me right now.”
    That caught me off guard.  Looking the way he did, I naturally assumed that he could have whomever he wanted.  But what did I know?  It occurred to me that I was casting my own poor self-esteem and insecurities onto him, which wasn’t fair.  He deserved better than that.  He didn’t deserve to be caught up in my own baggage, so why was I subjecting him to it?
    “Where did you grow up?” he asked.
    “There’s a change in subject.”
    “I think we need one.”
    I lifted my drink to him in agreement and took a sip.  “I grew up in Vermont.  On a farm just outside of Burlington.  You?”
    “Idaho,” he said.  “Not far from Boise, but in a town no one has ever heard of—that’s how small it is.  Postage Stamp City.  Something like that.”
    “Former farm boy?”
    “Guilty as charged.”
    “At least we have that in common.”
    “That we do.  Do you miss it?”
    “The farm?  Parts of it.  Especially my cat, Blanche.  I miss her a lot.  You?”
    “Depends.  When I’m away from it for a while, there are plenty of things I miss about it—the clean air, the open spaces, watching the livestock graze.  That sort of thing.  And yet, when I’m there, there are plenty of things I can’t wait to get away from.  You know—like grabbing a pitchfork and slinging shit, for instance.  Nobody misses that.”
    I laughed at that.  “They certainly don’t.”
    “Which school are you attending?”
    “Columbia.  I’m going for my MA.”
    “You didn’t get into that school without being smart, which begs the question—why do you keep putting yourself down?”
    I didn’t answer because the question was too personal.  There were plenty of reasons why I didn’t have the world’s greatest self-esteem, but that didn’t mean that we needed to discuss those reasons tonight.  Or ever, for that matter.  “Let’s just say that I was lucky to get into Columbia.”
    “Let’s just say that you’re being modest.  And don’t worry—I won’t press you on the question I really asked.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    “How are you spending your summer?”
    “Working my ass off.  With school out, I’m trying to make as much money as I can and sock it away so that the fall, winter, and spring will be easier than they were last year, which was hell.”
    “How many jobs are you working?”
    “Two.”
    “That’s a lot of work.”
    “It’s OK.  I’m not afraid of work.  I want a better life.”
    “Most do.”
    “What do you do,