.:. Six .:.

Two Months Later

Chase slouched against the bar, cloth dipping and twisting around a glass to rid it of droplets. His eyes lazily skirted the room—Luke, Owen and Bo were huddled around a table, the results of their evening cluttered around them in the form of empty, foam rimmed pales.

The carpenter was absorbed in reciting one of his awesome stories—as he stupidly phrased—hands waving as he talked. Soon enough, his hand whacked into his glass, amber liquid dripping from the wood. Luke's mouth twisted apologetically as he lifted his eyes to the bar. Chase's expression was murderous.

A whipping sound tore the air beside his right ear. He turned his head and his eyes were met with Kathy, tossing a towel over her shoulder like a cape.

"Don't worry," she winked, arm brushing his as she sashayed past. "I got it."

He opened his mouth to respond that good, she was doing her job for once, but the door swung open. The autumn breeze cascaded into the low-lighted bar, fluttering jackets and scarves in its wake. Molly's eyes instantly locked with his and she beamed, offering a small wave. His gaze shifted to her legs and he groaned, dragging a hand along his face.

Her tights were striped, like a bumblebee.

"Working hard, I see," she teased, throwing her weight down onto a stool. Her short hair flew forwards, wafting the scent of grass and cosmos.

"I think I've been wiping this glass for the past five hours," his eyebrows pinched as he looked down at the object of discussion. He stretched and placed it onto the shelf, aligning it with the rest, like a disciplined army. "Bit early for Halloween, aren't we?"

Her lips broke into a smile as she crossed a leg over the other, a flash of yellow and black lifting above the counter. "I think they're funny."

"I'm in stitches."

"You look it."

"Be careful, people might mistake this place for a circus," he drawled, but his eyes were focused on the rowdy table at the back of the bar.

Luke was wielding his axe and flexing his muscles while Kathy conversed with Owen, winding her ponytail around her fingers.

Chase faced her, eyebrows arched. "I know my charm is irresistible," he started while the farmer rolled her eyes. "But did you actually come here to order anything?"

Molly mused her hair, lips pulled between her teeth. "Yes... no."

"Well, which is it?"

"Do you have milkshakes?"

His lips slanted as he pushed his weight from the bar. "Strawberry, right?"

"The flavour of my heart," she swooned, hands clasped. "Ooh, could you add cream? And strawberry sauce? Make sure you add ice-cream. Like, tons of it. Maybe pop a strawberry on top, too. You know, that's got me thinking. Why do people top things with cherries? Who started that? Strawberries are much nicer."

She cleared her throat at his silence, a large tub of ice-cream level with his elbow, milk and a punnet of strawberries to his other side. "Chesney? Are you getting this?"

"No. I think I'm finally learning how to drone you out."

He spun on his heel and clanked a tall glass under her nose. It was brimmed with candyfloss coloured mixture and swirls of cream. Drizzled in sauce was the loopy, barely eligible words of 'you're annoying'.

"No strawberry?"

Chase narrowed his eyes and dropped the rosy berry from a height. It sunk into the cream like a padded launch pad, his endearing message caving into the sea of pink.

Molly sipped her milkshake. Yet with the amusement in Chase's eyes, she assumed she had some smeared on her upper-lip. She wiped it with the back of her hand.

"Have you ever read Emma?" she asked suddenly, feet tapping against the stool.

He raked his fingers though his hair. "What?"

"You know, as in Jane Austen."

"Oh, of course. I devoured it. An enthralling read."

"Well, the thing is..."

Her tone presented that of a child who had smashed their mother's favourite vase. Chase had grown accustomed to this voice with Maya—like when she mangled his blender because it slipped her mind that avocados possessed stones.

"I may have... meddled," she continued, eyes lowered to the empty glass, thumb wiping away condensation. "Matchmaker, meddled. I knew that if I asked you, you would have said no—"

Chase was silent, lips pursed and eyes slit. Molly sheepishly peeped upwards and flushed, eyes wide and pleading.

"Oh, Chesney. Don't look at me like that! Look, it's only a date. One teeny-tiny date—"

"Date?" his voice rose, fist colliding against wood. Many heads snapped to the disruption and Chase cursed and averted his eyes.

"What!" Luke's voice carried over. "Chase, man! You have a date?"

He pointed his finger. "You'll have a date with death if you don't zip it."

"Chase," Hayden warned, folding his arms. "Watch your tongue."

"Whatever," he murmured under his breath. His attention flicked back to her and she shrunk in her seat. "So, Cupid. Who is it?"

"Kathy," she nudged her head in the direction of the waitress. The blonde was giggling at something Luke had slurred. "It's a double date, actually. You and Kathy and me and Owen."

He followed her gaze, lips marled into a frown. "Not my type."

"What is your type?"

"Not you, if you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

He was quiet, cloth in possession as he wiped the bar down. Molly groaned and waved a hand in front of his face. He caught her wrist like swatting a pestering fly, letting it flop onto the counter.

"C'mon, Chesney," she whined. "Kathy's a catch. I'm doing you a favour. Plus she has been nattering on for the past few weeks about how cute you are."

Molly tipped up her glass and peered through the bottom as she used it as a make-shift-microscope. Dregs from her milkshake dripped onto the wood while Chase exhaled at the endless mess.

"Nope, I don't see it," she shrugged, announcing her findings. "Puppies and bunnies are cute. But when I look at you, all I'm reminded of is one of those grouchy old men who yell at people to get off of their lawns. I think Kathy needs her retinas checked."

"Hilarious," his voice was slow and drawn out, snatching the glass from her hands. "I'll have you know, I'm quite the catch."

"Only for the woman who shares your interest in Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain."

She remembered his sarcasm.

Chase's lips curved into a half-smile. Yet when Kathy skipped up to the duo waving an order ticket, he straightened and cleared his throat, forging his face into nonchalance as he flicked the hair out of his eyes.

"Order up!" she exclaimed, smiling coyly as she extended the paper. Chase snatched it, glaring down at the scrawl, hardly sparing her a glance. "Luke's in crazy~ need of a lining in his stomach. There ain't no way that I'm cleaning up vomit."

"Drunk? Great. My favourite personality," he murmured, distractedly. His eyes lifted to Molly as his teeth held a hair-clip, fingers twisting tousled strands as he pinned them back. "You want anything?"

"No way. That milkshake was a meal."

Chase waved a hand in dismissal before venturing into the kitchen, fastening the strings on his apron. He crouched and opened a cupboard, heaving out a stack of pans. He passed the door on the way to the fridge and Molly's sing-song voice reached his ears.

"Hey, Kaths," he heard her say. "What's up?"

Her voice was a strained whisper. "Honey… how do you even talk to that guy?"

Molly hummed in thought. "We don't," she concluded, and Chase felt himself frown as he placed the ingredients onto the marbled surface. "Our interactions are one-hundred-percent-sarcasm. Now that I think about it, it's making me question whether our friendship is real or just plain ironic."

Chase marched towards the doorway, head comically poking out. "Don't go around telling people we're friends," he warned, pointing a knife. "I have a reputation to uphold without it being tarnished by your stupid mouth."

She flashed him a mischievous smile.

"Oh, look at the time!" she gasped dramatically as she checked an invisible watch. "I should be going. I need to tend to my plants before it gets too dark. Well, see you tomorrow! Bye-bye!"

With a final glint of bumblebee stripes, the doors to the Brass Bar swung shut.

Kathy brightened, realising the invitation that her friend left her. She sloped forwards, chest exposed as she kicked one leg out behind her.

Chase wanted to kill Molly.

.:.

Despite the newness of the season, leaves had begun in their process of decay. Green dissolved into red as multitudes drifted to the ground, littering the earth of Flute Fields. Chase cracked the picnic basket open—the one that he generously provided through Molly's consistent nagging. It contained mason jars filled with orange juice and an array of sandwiches flavoured in the results of the farmer's efforts.

Molly's appearance appeared mundane—a blouse with rolled up sleeves and blue jeans while a thin red and white scarf was tossed around her neck. Yet when his eyes reached her feet, he exhaled and slid a hand across his mouth to stifle his laugh. The red glitter on her shoes sparkled in the sun—they were Dorothy shoes.

She sucked on a strawberry, the juice dribbling down her chin. "What's your opinion on strawberry ice-cream, Owen?"

"Nah. Not such a big fan of desserts," Owen waved off and Molly's jaw dropped, eyes horrified. The miner flinched at her reaction. "I guess I could take a small bite," he corrected, awkward laughter spilling from his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Most likely against my will, though."

"Oh. I see," she frowned, lowering her eyes.

"So, Molly," Owen resumed his efforts, smile strained. "Have you ever been mining?"

"No," she shook her head. "The thought of being trapped inside of a claustrophobic, dark, soot infested place never really appealed to me. I have plenty of time when I'm dead to enjoy a similar experience."

"Right," his mouth twitched uncomfortably as he knocked back alcohol in the flask.

"Chase," Kathy's elbow nudged his side. She curled her ponytail between her fingers and Chase grimaced, hoping blonde hair wouldn't wade into the sandwiches. "Have ya ever ridden a horse before? It's so much fun!"

"Nope," his tone was clipped; disinterested. "Can't see the appeal of riding around on one of those beasts. It's too high. I'd rather be rooted on the ground."

Her fingers slid from her hair, lips puckered into a pout. "That's too bad."

Molly and Owen were silent. Chase and Kathy were silent.

Chase's lips hovered over his orange juice and he met Molly's desperate gaze. Her eyes widened as a prompt, jabbing her head sideways in the direction of Kathy.

'What?' he mouthed.

'Talk to her!' she mouthed back.

When he failed to make any attempt to continue idle conversation, she rolled her eyes and did so herself.

"You know Kathy, you and Chase both like alcohol—wait—not that you're alcoholics or anything!" she hurriedly corrected, musing her hair. "It's just something I noticed…"

"You do?" Kathy spared a glance from her red-manicured nails. "What's your favourite drink?"

"Vodka."

She frowned. "In what cocktail?"

He frowned back. "Just vodka."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Owen," Kathy grabbed his attention, smiling sweetly. "Molls is starting a farm. Isn't that exciting?"

The man's smile was laboured. "Yeah, it is. Everything going well with it?"

"It is, thanks for asking," Molly replied, fiddling with the buckle on her shoe.

Silence.

"Autumn is perfect for sports," Owen commented, more to himself. His eyes were dazed as they followed the journey of an orange leaf. It floated from the tree canopy and settled on the basket. "Horse-riding is my favourite though. Heh."

"You like horse-riding?" Kathy's voice was high-pitched in disbelief. "Really?"

"Course, Kath," Owen chuckled, the sound vibrating in his throat. "Didn't you know?"

"No! I didn't! How come I never see you over at the ranch?"

"I avoid going over there when I know you're there. I didn't think you liked me much."

Kathy giggled, pressing fingers against her lips. "You're a darn pain, sure. But only because you spill your drinks at the bar and I'm the one left cleaning up the mess."

"Do you wanna go for a ride?" Owen asked suddenly while Kathy beamed, clambering to her feet.

"Sure! Sounds like fun," she stepped forwards and slapped her palm against her forehead. "You guys wanna come too?"

"I'm good." Chase replied, relieved.

"No thanks, Kath. You two have fun."

She tossed a thankful smile over her shoulder as the duo rushed off towards the ranch.

Molly crossed her legs while Chase folded his arms behind his head and reclined against the blanket. A leaf landed on his nose and his face crinkled, hands swiping. He pursed his lips and leaned on his elbows.

"That went well," she exhaled, nibbling on one of the untouched sandwiches.

"Incredible," he whistled. "I can still taste the chemistry in the air."

"We need to make a pact. A treaty. A deal. An agreement—right now."

"Wow. I didn't know we were being invaded."

"Seeing Kathy and Owen… I mean, really. I would never have guessed. I thought she hated that guy…" she shrugged. "So what I'm saying is, we need to make a deal never, ever, ever to date. The thought of that makes me sick, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Like home insurance. Our friendship is a liability—I want compensation if you get drunk and decide to make a move."

"I hope you take offence to this—but if I did get drunk, I would assume you were a man. Not that this view changes much from when I'm sober. The only reason I agreed to be friends with you is because I knew I could never find you attractive."

"Phew, I'm glad we're on the same page. But for the record, if I ever got drunk, I would mistake you for a girl. Those hairpins are a really manly addition to your image."

"I'll remind you of that next time you find a hair in your food."

"Okay, let's shake on it."

Chase sighed and rocked forwards into a sitting position. She extended her hand and he felt a wave of déjà vu.

"I'd rather die than date you," he drawled as he shook her hand.

"Right back at you, Chesney."