Read Online Loving the Chase (Heart of the Storm #1) by Sharla Lovelace - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharla Lovelace
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couldn’t blame him.
In all the improvements to the land, the little workshop remained. Zach had built his house in front of it with his own two hands, because he couldn’t imagine a more perfect location, something connected to his father.
Zach remembered sitting in there watching his dad build the amazing pieces that now graced his mother’s home, inside and out. Helping him and Harlan lug wood in and out of there, over the steps on either side. Hanging over the rail to watch the fish swim under the building. Among the sawdust and tools, surrounded by the smell of wood and metal and grease, and the sound of water moving under their feet, Zach thought it was the coolest place on earth.
That was before his dad and Harlan had their falling out and went their separate ways. Zach never knew what the feud was about, and neither did his siblings, but he was probably the most affected by Harlan’s absence. He questioned his parents repeatedly until Josiah banned the topic outright, and before Zach could push the issue, his dad was gone. And his mother shelved that subject forever.
Regardless, the Chases and the Boudreaus shared a town and a calling, and Zach always had a soft spot for the old man. He may be crass and quicker to act than to think at times, but he knew his shit. No one knew how to read a storm off gut instinct like Harlan and his dad had.
Zach sank into a wooden chair that was damn near more comfortable than his recliner, and closed his eyes, knowing full well exactly what they’d land on when he opened them. His body knew the feel of this space centimeter by centimeter, what was on every shelf, what was next to what on the table, the walls, and even the bare-raftered ceiling. The smell of sawdust and the different types of wood he had stored there. He could identify them if he were struck blind tomorrow. There weren’t many days that went by that Zach wasn’t there, working on something.
Making a living.
Building deer stands. Eli’s words rankled in his gut, but he knew it was somewhat his own doing. Zach didn’t talk about what he’d carved out for himself, the business—such as it was—he was building back there in the little shack everyone had mostly forgotten about. His family thought he just messed around back there, piddled with his tools a little, went fishing. He hadn’t wet a hook in years.
He didn’t tell anyone about the repeat business he was starting to get just by word of mouth from delighted customers. His custom pieces were works of art, a combination of modern technology and old-school woodwork techniques that he made around his other life as a Chase. For some reason, he couldn’t bring it to the light just yet. It needed to succeed first. Be a little more substantial. More something, so that the next time Eli made a fuckhead remark like that, he could shove the numbers in his face.
His dad had wanted to do the same thing, but he never had the time to take it outside of a hobby. With the storm-chasing life and five kids, his craft never made it past filling his own house. And passing his skills to his son. Simon’s words echoed in Zach’s head. He was his dad’s son—there was never any doubt of that. He was cut from the same cloth, had the same interests, the same adrenaline when it came to the chase. And out of all of them, he knew he looked the most like him.
He opened his eyes and focused immediately on a framed photo up high on the wall across from him. The whole room had photos lining the walls above the shelves—all pictures his mother had taken over the years. Josiah always framed his favorites and brought them out here, especially the black-and-white ones.
Zach’s favorite was the one of him and his dad making the big massive table that now adorned the family room. It was made of four different types of wood, all inlaid and stained to bring out the different colors and grains. He was about sixteen at the time, and his mom had captured them deep in their work,
In all the improvements to the land, the little workshop remained. Zach had built his house in front of it with his own two hands, because he couldn’t imagine a more perfect location, something connected to his father.
Zach remembered sitting in there watching his dad build the amazing pieces that now graced his mother’s home, inside and out. Helping him and Harlan lug wood in and out of there, over the steps on either side. Hanging over the rail to watch the fish swim under the building. Among the sawdust and tools, surrounded by the smell of wood and metal and grease, and the sound of water moving under their feet, Zach thought it was the coolest place on earth.
That was before his dad and Harlan had their falling out and went their separate ways. Zach never knew what the feud was about, and neither did his siblings, but he was probably the most affected by Harlan’s absence. He questioned his parents repeatedly until Josiah banned the topic outright, and before Zach could push the issue, his dad was gone. And his mother shelved that subject forever.
Regardless, the Chases and the Boudreaus shared a town and a calling, and Zach always had a soft spot for the old man. He may be crass and quicker to act than to think at times, but he knew his shit. No one knew how to read a storm off gut instinct like Harlan and his dad had.
Zach sank into a wooden chair that was damn near more comfortable than his recliner, and closed his eyes, knowing full well exactly what they’d land on when he opened them. His body knew the feel of this space centimeter by centimeter, what was on every shelf, what was next to what on the table, the walls, and even the bare-raftered ceiling. The smell of sawdust and the different types of wood he had stored there. He could identify them if he were struck blind tomorrow. There weren’t many days that went by that Zach wasn’t there, working on something.
Making a living.
Building deer stands. Eli’s words rankled in his gut, but he knew it was somewhat his own doing. Zach didn’t talk about what he’d carved out for himself, the business—such as it was—he was building back there in the little shack everyone had mostly forgotten about. His family thought he just messed around back there, piddled with his tools a little, went fishing. He hadn’t wet a hook in years.
He didn’t tell anyone about the repeat business he was starting to get just by word of mouth from delighted customers. His custom pieces were works of art, a combination of modern technology and old-school woodwork techniques that he made around his other life as a Chase. For some reason, he couldn’t bring it to the light just yet. It needed to succeed first. Be a little more substantial. More something, so that the next time Eli made a fuckhead remark like that, he could shove the numbers in his face.
His dad had wanted to do the same thing, but he never had the time to take it outside of a hobby. With the storm-chasing life and five kids, his craft never made it past filling his own house. And passing his skills to his son. Simon’s words echoed in Zach’s head. He was his dad’s son—there was never any doubt of that. He was cut from the same cloth, had the same interests, the same adrenaline when it came to the chase. And out of all of them, he knew he looked the most like him.
He opened his eyes and focused immediately on a framed photo up high on the wall across from him. The whole room had photos lining the walls above the shelves—all pictures his mother had taken over the years. Josiah always framed his favorites and brought them out here, especially the black-and-white ones.
Zach’s favorite was the one of him and his dad making the big massive table that now adorned the family room. It was made of four different types of wood, all inlaid and stained to bring out the different colors and grains. He was about sixteen at the time, and his mom had captured them deep in their work,
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