Chapter 22
Chapter 22
If she’d thought Dave had looked good in that T-shirt while at Sebastian’s house one year ago –well,
shut her mouth. And open it again, because those dimples were in danger of making Chelsea’s jaw hit
the floor. How could he look so good in a suit?
He wore a dark navy suit, the jacket unbuttoned and the scarlet silk of his shirt making his skin almost
glow. He’d tugged off his tie in the heat and was now absentmindedly wrapping it around and around
his strong, graceful hands. His gorgeous eyes seemed to sparkle in the faint light of the torches and
fireworks, and his hair fell in defiant curls around his face. A hint of stubble graced his cheeks, just
enough to rasp against someone’s skin if he leaned down to claim their mouth with those full, pouty
lips… Oops, Shawn was saying words. She should probably pay attention to Richmond’s words and
not Dave’s lips and notice how Jane and Catherine are eying her like a mother hen. Though Dave’s lips
were definitely more interesting.
He’s got a company to run, Chelsea reminded herself. He’s off-limits, and also, he’s a jerk! He chose
his work over hers. Like, who does that? One minute he was telling her he bloody loved her, and the
next he told her that she needed to stay away from him for a while.
Jerk!
She reminded herself that she had instituted a strict no-jerk policy! All jerks must be put in checked
luggage; if she attempts to board this relationship with a jerk, Security will ask her to step out from the
line. “-all in the museum together,” Shawn was explaining to Jane. “Dave, my wife and I played Indian
Jones together in Thailand. If I’d taken either of their advice back then, i’d have made my fortune a lot
sooner.” Shawn joked.
The rest chuckled while Dave never left his gaze at Chelsea. Jane gazes at them with genuine curiosity
while drinking her tequila. “Pleasure to meet you all.” the dark man said to them. While Dave took
Chelsea’s hand and kissed it. “Nice to meet you again, Chelsea” Catherine and Jane’s eyebrows
climbed so high they could have formed their own airline. Dave took her hand. “Stop being a jerk,
Dave,” she said shortly, pulling her hand away. “Dave, did you forget your manners again?” Catherine
asked. “He likes to put on the whole Prince Charming act now, but way way back home, he couldn’t
speak two words to girls that weren’t ‘move, you’re blocking the Twilight chronicles or whatever those NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.
nerdy guys called.” “Catherine, please,” Dave said, starting to look embarrassed. “This one time,” Dave
started, a wicked grin blooming on her face, “he didn’t know his crush from the debate team was in the
lobby, and he was racing down the stairs, skinny arms flailing in the wind-you should have seen him
before he got into body-building, a toothpick could have taken him in a boxing match—”
C22
“Don’t go digging up my tragic past, sister,” Dave said with a laugh, giving Catherine a friendly punch in
the shoulder. His face took on a mischievous cast, and his slightly awkward. smile widened. “Unless
you want me to bring up that incident with you, the sorority, the drunk homeless man, ice cream, and
the fire department.” Catherine shot a fake-panicked look at Jane and Chelsea, who rolled their eyes.
Shawn retorted with a smile. “Another tale of your misspent youth? I’ve probably heard worse.
“I think I’ll play it safe,” Catherine said, “and change the subject. Where’s your lovely date, Dave? Have
you met her, Chelsea?” Jane raised her brow and winked at Catherine. Chelsea, however, put on her
best blank I-don’t -care-look
HI
She was about to say she had not when suddenly a blonde woman who was fifteen pounds too thin
and three inches too short to be Daniella Gray shot out of the crowd and wrapped herself around Dave,
nestling her head onto his shoulder and letting out a contented little murmur. He had another girl
already? Or in addition? This guy gave ‘player’ such a new name that they were going to have to add
another page to the entry in the encyclopedia. “Oh, there you are, Davey dear!” she simpered like a
little lost kitten. “Ugh, this charity ball is such a drag! And oh my God, books. Like, what are poor kids
even going to do with books? Can they even, like, read? Aren’t they all on crack?” Chelsea breathed in
harder and raised her eyebrows at Dave. Everyone froze for a second. They could see the thoughts
slowly travelling across their faces as they wondered if they had really heard what they thought they
had just heard, and if so, whether they should laugh, yell, or cry. Dave looked like he sincerely hoped
the ground would open up beneath him and he would be kidnapped by Santa before he had to figure
out how to respond.
“Excuse me,” Chelsea said as straight-faced as she could. “I think I need more drinks. Yes. A drink.
Bye!” And she fled behind the kitchen area where no one could see her. Ten minutes later, when
Chelsea had recovered, she poked her head back out and surveyed the scene. The coast was clear;
Dave and his bimbo…she wanted to say ‘date,’ but ‘disaster’ seemed so much more accurate…
seemed to have fled. Jane was nowhere to be seen either, but Catherine and Shawn were still lounging
hand in hand where she had seen them last.
She paused for a moment before going to rejoin them, just watching them, so in love and so
unselfconscious. Shawn teases Catherine by holding a chocolate-dipped strawberry just too high for
her to grab and then kisses her gently before feeding it to her himself. Catherine laughs and relaxes
into his arms, her eyes closing in delighted contentment. Catherine had her man and her kids, and she
loved them both beyond reason. It was the whole package.
And sometimes, Chelsea couldn’t help but wonder if her whole package had gotten lost in the mail.
She set her shoulders and told herself to stop wallowing. She had more important things to focus on. It
didn’t matter if achieving her dream took years or even decades; she had set her mind and heart on it,
and she was going to do it. She was going to fuck the hell out of her fate.
And hey, in the meantime, there was always champagne. She snagged a glass off a passing waiter’s
tray, and he turned to her with a grin like electricity. Oh, hello, cute waiter from before. Still looking twice
as delicious and intoxicating as the champagne he was carrying. “So,” he said with a French drawl that
had her contemplating how that voice might sound coming from between her thighs, “what’s a pretty
lady like you doing in a place like this?” Well, if he was going to flirt with her first, she definitely wasn’t
going to cling to any reservations about flirting with him. “Oh, nothing much,” she answered back,
coming forward and letting her hand rest lightly on his arm. “Just… admiring the scenery.” Dreams are
hard things to achieve. It was a good thing life was stocked with so many pleasant distractions.
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