“You sure?” He couldn’t help but tease her a bit. “Lots of eligible men at these things.”
She actually shuddered. “I’m positive. I mean, you’re pretty harmless so I’d rather be with you.”
And now his libido really was offended. Harmless? Him? He’d been known to seduce at twenty paces just with a smoldering look. “Harmless, eh?”
She moved in and patted his chest. “Don’t be offended. It’s because I know you now. It wasn’t a jab at your manhood.”
He shrugged and pulled his phone out again. A safety date would be just the thing. He could avoid being set up because he already had a “date.” He could avoid other women who were looking for a man at a wedding—because there were always a few—and no one who looked at Chelsea would think she was with Sebastian platonically. She was perfection in high heels. “All right,” he said, sliding his thumb over his phone. “Give me your number, Safety Girl.”
Chelsea laughed and reached between her cleavage to pull out her phone, where it was tucked away between her breasts. He tried not to stare at that, he really did.
And he tried not to wish that it wasn’t a safety thing after watching those tits produce that tiny phone.
A safety date was a good thing, he told himself.
They exchanged numbers and then she beamed at him, trotting off down the hall. “I really need to send this back to its owner,” she said, holding up the lashes. “See you in a few, Safety Date.”
“Call me SD,” he called back after her, grinning, and her laughter floated down the hall. He found himself smiling despite the absurd situation, and headed back for the dinner party. Sure enough, it was turning into couples-fest. He sat down and pulled out his phone.
Sebastian: You called this one. I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones here without a hookup agenda.
Her reply came a moment later.
Safety Date Chelsea: Told you!!
Sebastian: Just so we’re clear, this isn’t a roundabout relationship thing? It’s just a friendship thing?
Safety Date Chelsea: God no, no relationships. I’ve had enough of men.
He thought of the bruise he’d got a flash of on her inner thigh and wondered. But then the dinner party started, he put away his phone, and Chelsea appeared from the restroom with her friend, all smiles and bouncy hair and charming personality.
And he forgot all about the bruises for a while and just enjoyed himself.
That night, when he went home, he pulled out his sketch pad and pencils. He immediately began to draw a rounded face, big, shining eyes, and wavy blonde hair. She was so happy and carefree, how could he not draw her? She reminded him of the pinup girls of old.
Friend or not, he suspected that Chelsea Hall was going to be art inspiration for a long time to come.
Chapter Five
“A safety date is genius, baby girl,” Pisa said as they skated through Central Park the next day. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me, too,” Chelsea admitted. “I didn’t freak out once at the entire dinner party. Maybe it was because there were so many people around who I knew from my college days that it didn’t bother me. I even spent a few minutes alone with Sebastian and didn’t lose my cool. It’s like my brain has categorized him as safe.”
“That’s great! You’ve totally got this, Chesty,” Pisa gushed. She sped up, then hopped over a particularly bad crack in the pavement. Chelsea did the same, then skated up to her friend’s side again. Pisa grabbed her by the elbow pad and steered her around an old couple, and then they raced past a few particularly slow people.
Derby practice was twice a week for the league, which consisted of drills and scrimmages and training the fresh meat. On Friday nights, she had Rag Queens team practice. But like most women who lived and breathed derby, there were never enough hours on skates, and she and Pisa had taken to skating through Central Park on a daily basis to get exercise. It was Pisa’s lunch hour, which meant the park was full of people walking their dogs and suits taking their lunchtime strolls in addition to the usual park crew.
Pisa started skating backward and eyed Chelsea. “So, can we talk?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
“I got the promotion. Double pay plus incentives.” Pisa wiggled her eyebrows and lifted her forearm for a congratulatory bump.
Chelsea squealed and grabbed Pisa around the waist, knocking them both into the grass. They went tumbling, a tangle of skates, yoga pants, and laughing hugs. Chelsea wiggled against her friend, stoked. “Oh, my god! Congrats! That’s so awesome.”
Pisa giggled and thumped Chelsea on the back. “I know! I’ve been waiting for this opportunity forever!”
“They’d be dummies to pass up a financial analyst as badass as you,” Chelsea said proudly. “So this means . . .”
“Yep,” Pisa said, and the worried look came back to her face. She propped up her elbow in the grass and plucked at a few blades. “Austin. Permanent relocation. I mean, the good thing is that it’s a derby town. The bad thing is . . .”
That she’d be leaving Chelsea. And Chelsea had a hard time with being alone. She squished down the panicky feelings and gave Pisa another squeeze. “Don’t be a tool, Pisa. This is the opportunity you wanted. Of course you’re moving to Austin!”
“You sure?”
Chelsea snorted. “What, you gonna stay here because your roomie can’t handle shit? I’ll get another roommate. Cherry said she was looking for a place.”
“Cherry doesn’t work. How you gonna pay for a two bedroom NoHo walk-up on your soap sales?”
Chelsea waved a hand. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry about me. Seriously. Let’s talk about you and Austin! When do you go?”
“Next week?”
So soon? She swallowed her fear and thumped Pisa’s helmet. “I’m so stoked for you!”
Pisa gave her a tiny smile. “Maybe I’ll try that banked track stuff, too. It’s big in Austin. I’ll play both leagues for a bit or something. I don’t know. You sure you’re cool?”
“Of course. I’d never hold you back.” Chelsea squeezed Pisa’s sports-gloved hand. “You’ve been there for me every step of the way for the last three years. You’re the one who picked me out of the crowd at tryouts and told me to get my bitch-ass into a pair of skates. I adore you and want the best for you. I’ve leaned on you for a while, and it’s time for me to make it on my own.”
Pisa’s eyes glimmered with tears. “I was so afraid of telling you. I know this can’t be easy.”
Chelsea squeezed her in an elbow-padded hug. “I don’t care if it’s easy or not. It’s what you have to do.”
After a bit more hugging, they dusted the grass off of their gear and resumed their breakneck skate around the park. Chelsea kept the beaming smile on her face, but inwardly, she was torn. Pisa was her rock, the person she could count on at all times to be there for her. She couldn’t keep her from such an awesome promotion, not when it would mean so much money and success for her.
But . . . what would it mean for Chelsea? She’d just have to suck it up and cope. Somehow. But New York was going to be a lot less fun without Pisa around.
* * *
“Top rope or lead climb today?” Sebastian asked Hunter. He adjusted his climbing harness and double checked it one more time before he glanced over at his buddy.
“Top rope,” Hunter said, then glanced around uneasily. “Gym seem awful busy to you today?”
Sebastian grunted. It did, but he thought he was just paranoid. “Maybe we picked a bad time to get our climb on. You wanna reschedule?”
“Nah,” Hunter said, chalking his hands. “Need to get some aggressions out.”
“Oh?” Sebastian clipped in and then squinted up at the wall. They’d rented the area for the hour, but Hunter was right—their private gym of choice seemed to be rather busy today for no reason at all. Maybe he needed to see about building his own personal rock climbing wall. Seemed kinda silly when there was a perfec
tly good one here downtown, though. “Work stuff or something else?”
Hunter wasn’t the chattiest partner, so it was sometimes tough to get him to open up. Not today, it seemed. Sebastian was a little surprised when Hunter admitted, “Lost out on an important bid earlier. Too distracted by wedding stuff.”
“Glad it’s you getting married and not me,” Sebastian said, putting his hands on one of the lower pre-bolted sport route handholds. “The last thing I need is more media attention.”
“It’s not the media,” Hunter said in his gravelly voice, approaching the wall. “Gretchen wouldn’t do that to me. It’s . . . well, it’s Gretchen. She’s planning this big costume party for the engagement announcement and she’s all worked up.”
Sebastian’s brows drew together. He wasn’t exactly sure how that was distracting. “And . . .”
“And when she gets worked up, she takes her stress out on me.”
The words sounded like they were growled out of Hunter’s throat, and Sebastian paused in his climb to look over at his partner. Sure enough, Hunter’s face was bright red, and not from exertion. “Ah,” he said, chuckling. “That kind of distraction. You poor, suffering beast. How do you cope?”
“Fuck off,” Hunter said. “I—” He bit the words off and stared into the distance.
Sebastian turned to look . . . and cursed.
Now he knew why the gym was so crowded. A trio of cameras were filming a short distance away, and another man held a long boom mic over the head of a girl with white-blonde bleached hair. She was wearing a hot pink sports bra and matching yoga pants . . . and stilettos. And when she turned, he swore again.
Lisa Pinder-Schloss. His ex from hell. The one who wanted to be as famous as the rest of his family.
She brightened at the sight of him and bounded over, her big implants jiggling as she trotted to the climbing wall. And all Sebastian could do was hang there, a few feet off the ground, stunned as she and her entourage showed up.
“Hi, baby,” she cooed, staggering over to the climbing wall. Her heels sunk into the mats and she wobbled with every step.
“Lisa? What are you doing here?” Sebastian said, releasing the hand holds and sliding back down to the ground. At least she had the sense to approach when he was at the bottom of the wall and not the top.
He looked over at Hunter, and he had his hands in front of his face, squinting. “If those cameras don’t get off of me in two seconds, I’m suing the daylights out of each and every one of you,” the scarred billionaire growled.
Immediately, all three cameras swiveled away and zoomed in on Lisa.
Sebastian dusted his hands, stepping a few feet away to give Hunter his privacy. He knew the man was reclusive and hated his picture taken. Hell, Hunter hated going out in public at all but was trying to do better for his fiancée. Definitely time for Sebastian to look into that private climbing wall. Fuck.
He took Lisa by the elbow and dragged her to the side. “What are you doing here?”
She pouted. “I came to see you.”
Her pout looked ridiculous. She’d clearly gotten a lot of recent work done and not only were her breasts enormous, nipples poking through the thin fabric of her bra, but her lips were bloated, too. They looked like a duck bill, protruding from her face and stretching her once pretty features into a caricature. She’d clearly gone overboard with the plastic surgery. She’d been tanning quite a bit and looked, well, a bit too orange to be natural. Kind of like a pumpkin.
“You came here to see me or you came to film for the show?” he asked bluntly, unhooking his harness.
She twirled a lock of hair—probably extensions. “Can’t it be both?”
“You know I hate the show.” Damn it, he couldn’t unclip himself. He was too pissy and in too much of a hurry.
“I miss you, baby. Can we talk privately?” She put her hand on his belt harness and tried to pull him forward.
“No! Don’t touch me.” He flung himself backward so hard that he slammed onto the mat and lay there for a moment, spread eagle.
Fuck. That was going to make the promo, he just knew it.
She giggled and then bit one of her bloated lips in an attempt to look cute. “We need to talk about you and me.”
“There is no you and me. There hasn’t been for years.”
“I miss you—”
“I don’t miss you, and I don’t want any of this.” He waved an arm at the cameras still filming his every move. “Just because my mother wants me on TV doesn’t mean I want to be there.”
Her eyes widened. “Did you know Mama Precious has cancer?”
Oh, no. He was not getting involved in the damn cancer story line. Not one bit. Ignoring the bait she’d dropped, he clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, Lisa, okay? Just leave me alone.”
Lisa’s hands went to her hips. “I’m not going to give up on you, Sebastian Cabral. You’re going to see that I’m the perfect girlfriend for you. What we had was good.”
What they’d had was brief and annoying. “Go away, Lisa.”
“You just wait. I refuse to take no for an answer.” She tossed her head and stalked away.
Frustrated, he rubbed his forehead. Everyone was staring. He couldn’t come back to this gym again. Hell, he was going to have to convince Hunter that this wasn’t a setup.
What a nightmare. He had to do something to get Lisa off his back. If not, he was going to have to endure months of ambushes like this one. Something had to be done.
* * *
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Pisa asked again, checking the half-empty apartment one last time before letting the movers leave.
“Totally cool,” Chelsea assured her. She shouldered Pisa’s bag of skate equipment, since that was something that she wanted with her on the plane. A TV could be replaced, but skates that were properly broken in were priceless. “It’s going to be fun having the place to myself for a while.”
“You’re such a shitty liar,” Pisa told her. She scanned the room one last time and then turned to Chelsea. “You can tell your derby wife, honey. Say the word and I’ll get a later flight or something.”
“No. Absolutely not.” Chelsea handed her the heavy bag. “You need to do this. How long have you been waiting for the chance at a promotion? I’d be the worst friend on earth if I held you back.”
“We both know you’re not doing it on purpose.” Pisa’s narrow face was worried. “You have my new address, right?”
“And your phone number. And the emergency numbers of the other girls on the team. And I can go down to a coffee shop if it gets too quiet. Or I’ll get a cat or something. I promise, it’s cool.”
The unhappy look on Pisa’s face didn’t ease up. “You’ll call me if you start to freak out?”
“Absolutely.” Chelsea grabbed her friend by the shoulders and turned her toward the front door. “You have to go, Pisa. Your plane is leaving soon and the movers are waiting for you to wave them off.”
“I know. I just feel guilty . . .” She looked at Chelsea again.
“Feel guilty that you’re leaving the Rag Queens for some shitty Austin team,” she teased, keeping her voice light.
“Austin’s kickass and you know it.” Pisa flung her arms around Chelsea. “I’m going to miss you so much, Chesty LaRude.”
Hot tears formed in Chelsea’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “I’m going to miss you, too, Pisa Hit.” She squeezed her friend again. “We’ll see each other at Nationals, though, won’t we?”
“Absolutely.” Pisa lifted her bent arm and tapped her elbow. “I’m keeping this ready to dig into your chest.”
Chelsea giggled through her tears. “I’ll miss you.”
They hugged three more times before Pisa finally left. Chelsea waved her off. Then, she quietly shut the door to the apartment, locked the bolts, and stared dully at what was left of the furniture. She’d moved her soap-making supplies temporarily into Pisa’s room, set up on a fold
ing table. She’d happily chattered to her buddy that she was closer to the kitchen in Pisa’s room, which would make things easier.
Lies. All lies, because she couldn’t hold her friend back from having a life. Pisa’s empty room nagged at Chelsea’s anxiety, and she closed the door and moved down the hall. As she went through the apartment, she turned the lights on. It was bright as the daylight outside in her bedroom, but it wasn’t enough.
It was too quiet. Too lonely.
She was too alone.
She crawled into bed and pulled the sheets up. Practice was tomorrow night. She could last until then. And she could skate in Central Park tomorrow. Maybe she’d call Morning Whorey or Gilmore Hurls and see if they were interested in skating. Probably not, because she knew they had office jobs.
She was alone. Really really alone.
And when she was alone, the anxiety came back.
So she pulled out her phone and went through her contact list. Gretchen was shit at answering texts. Any of her derby friends would just talk about Pisa and right now she didn’t want to think about the loss of her friend. “Safety Date Sebastian” came up in her list, and on a whim, she texted him.
Chelsea: Hey, Safety Boy, are you going to the costume party this weekend?
Safety Date Sebastian: Kinda have to, don’t I? What with being a groomsman and all.
Chelsea: I see we are full of sarcasm today.
SDS: Sorry. Just not a big fan of parties. Kinda feel roped into this one.
Chelsea: I know how that feels! I’d rather not go at all, but Gretchen would never forgive.
SDS: Sounds like we are going to have a fine evening of clinging to the wall together.
Chelsea: Sounds like. I’m glad you are as antisocial as me.
SDS: We shall be two freakish wallflowers together.
She smiled. It didn’t help the ache of loneliness go away, or the fear of being by herself, but it was nice to know someone else was out there, listening.
Chapter Six
“Is . . . that a black eye or part of your costume?” Sebastian stared as a familiar figure roller-skated her way to his side, waving. The engagement party for Gretchen and Hunter was in full swing. Costumed partygoers lined the stately halls of Buchanan Manor, and everywhere there were banners and balloons proclaiming the upcoming nuptials of the happy couple. Waitstaff carried champagne glasses and hors d’oeuvres through the crowd, and people were all laughing and mingling and having a good time. Well, almost all. When a cheerleader and a sexy Cookie Monster hit on him the moment he walked through the door, he knew this was yet another “hookup” party. What was it about weddings that made everyone else frantic to find a partner? He’d even dressed in a low-key costume to try to avoid attention, and it wasn’t working. Which was why he was so glad to see Chelsea as she skated toward him, winding her way through the crowd as if she were born on roller-skates. It was pretty impressive to see.