Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  I arched my eyebrow. If we weren’t in the middle of such a serious discussion, I would throw out a joke about how there was no way I was the corruptor in this scenario, but that was better left alone.

  “Then, that’s his own damn fault for not knowing what’s right and wrong.” I reached for her waist. “Because, this is about damn near perfect.” I kissed her lips, tasting the fresh mint on her mouth. “Don’t let him make you feel guilty about us.”

  “I don’t have one ounce of guilt about you. This has been the best summer of my life.” I loved when her blue eyes lit up like this. “But part of me still doesn’t want to disappoint them. Is that stupid?”

  “It’s not stupid at all.” At twenty-eight, I was still doing things to get my dad’s attention. Hoping the next movie would elicit some kind of praise or compliment. Where my mother was concerned, I didn’t want to embarrass her or cause her any pain. It wasn’t stupid. Chelsea loved her parents, faults, sins, and all. It wasn’t something you outgrew.

  “But, at some point, they have to recognize you as an adult. And you can’t feel guilty about it.” I kissed her on the forehead before walking to the bedroom. My extra towels were in a drawer at the end of the bed.

  “That’s easy for you to say. Your father isn’t having an affair and getting ready to find out you’re sleeping with the clerk you hired.” Her eyes closed and she leaned against the door. “This day is going to be a freakin’ disaster.”

  “Did you already forget about your call this afternoon? It can’t be a bad day.” I grabbed one red and one white towel.

  “How can I forget that? I woke up thinking about Austin.”

  I was glad she was so excited about the call. Blue Steel Records was owned by one of the wide receivers I played with in college. Brandon was a good guy; he would watch out for her.

  I threw a towel at her. “Here.”

  She tilted her head to side. “What’s this?”

  “Get in the shower. Now.” I stood, towering over her.

  “Oh no. There’s no way we’ll both fit. You can barely get in there.” Her head shook.

  “Darlin’, we will fit.” I turned the knob on the hot water side. “But we only have seven minutes for me to wash all these problems away for you, so stop arguing with me and get in.” My eyes darted to the stream of water sputtering behind her. For a second, I thought she might not take me up on my offer. I considered lifting her up and putting her under the water, but before I could act on it, she tugged the tank top off her chest, shimmied out of something silky and blue, and stepped into the shower.

  “Damn, girl,” I muttered, bracing myself against the wall. Maybe she thought I did all these things to make her feel better, to erase her doubts and fears, but she didn’t know that making her smile turned my world right side up.

  ***

  “Mr. Owen, sir. I’m really sorry Chelsea and I weren’t here to help Bertie open the store this morning.” I folded my hands behind my back and waited for the store owner to give it to me. I was prepared.

  Hayden stayed seated in the cramped office. “Son, I have brought you into my business. Cindy and I had you over for dinner.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m having a real hard time right now listening to this.”

  I realized this wasn’t the most comfortable conversation between two men. If I ever had a daughter, I knew I would be the kind of dad who eagle-eyed any boy who stepped within ten feet of her. Regardless of the situation with Eileen Meeks, I did feel for the guy sitting behind the desk. This was damn awkward.

  “I know. I know. And I appreciate everything, sir. I did not intend to keep Chelsea from work. It won’t happen again.”

  “Fell asleep watching a movie and you both forgot to charge your phones?” the father asked skeptically.

  We both knew that wasn’t the entire story, but I was sticking to it. We could all pretend that’s what happened and maybe the consequences for Chelsea wouldn’t be so bad. I had volunteered to face the firing squad to spare her the embarrassment.

  “Yes, sir. It was irresponsible on my part.” I hoped we could drop the details, and Hayden would let me get back to the kayaks and snorkel sets.

  “All right, let’s just leave it at that.” He cleared his throat. “If it happens again, you won’t get a warning.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir. Understood. It won’t.” I turned for the door, anxious to end the conversation. I’d had knock-down, drag-out arguments with directors that were easier to deal with than the tension in this office. I closed the door behind me and strolled out to the docks.

  A grandfather was teaching his grandson how to pin fish at the edge of the pier. The clouds had dispersed, and there were patches of sunlight peeping through.

  I chuckled as I took my station in the rental stand. I hadn’t felt that much like a teenager since I was one. It was downright hilarious that I had almost gotten an ass-chewing from an overprotective father. Now that was a headline Celebrity Watch should run: World’s Most Eligible Bachelor Sent to Time Out. I flipped through the checklist on the clipboard and counted how many pieces of equipment were out on the water.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Chelsea

  “Wish me luck.” I clutched my phone in my right hand, and waited for Jake to say something calming.

  “Good luck, pretty girl.” He winked. “Just remember, don’t agree to anything until they send over a copy of the contract and we read through it. I don’t want them to take advantage of you because it’s your first deal.”

  He wouldn’t open up about his book contract, but he spoke with such passion, I could only assume he had a bad experience with contracts. The advice was good. I needed it. No reason to jump into anything before I had time to think through the offer.

  “I’m so nervous.” My knees might actually knock together I was shaking so much.

  He held me by the shoulders. “They already love your music. You are the ones with all the cards here.”

  “Right. Right.” I bit my bottom lip. Jake’s eyes drifted over my shoulder.

  “Hey, what’s going on at The Carribe Inn?” He pointed toward the hotel across the street.

  I pivoted on my heels and caught a glimpse of a large group climbing the stairs of the historic building. It looked like there were photographers following the party into the lobby.

  “I have no idea. But Bertie would know. She knows everything.” I turned back, needing reassurance from his eyes. They were always so soothing when I got worked up.

  He patted me on the backside, followed by a tight squeeze. “Go get ‘em. It’s four.” He spun me out of the rental entrance. It would be silly to ask him to make the call with me, but part of me wanted him close by.

  This was more nerve-wracking than my first day of classes at Carolina when I didn’t know a single soul, or the last day of grad school when my future became a black hole of uncertainty.

  I forced a smile as I walked to the parking lot. Wasn’t there a saying about smiling on the phone? I couldn’t think of it, but knew it mattered. It was stuffy inside my car. I turned the AC to high, hoping it would cool quickly. There was no privacy in the store, and after my late-morning stunt, there wasn’t any way I could take off early. A call in the seclusion of my car was the best I could work out.

  The number for Blue Steel was in my back pocket. I pulled out the email, read the numbers aloud, and tapped the digits into my phone.

  “Blue Steel Records. How may I direct your call?” a woman answered.

  “Hi, this is Chelsea Davis. I have a conference call with Brandon Edwards.” My stomach flipped with butterflies. This was actually happening.

  “Yes, it looks like you’re on the call schedule. Hold please.”

  I didn’t know if I was breathing in or out. My chest was so tight, it might have forgotten what it was supposed to do.

  “Chelsea! Great to have you on the line.” A booming voice sounded in my ear. “This is Brandon.”

  “Mr. Edwards, thank you so much
. I couldn’t believe it when I got your email yesterday.” I hoped I sounded like a professional.

  “Call me Brandon.”

  “Ok. Brandon.” This time I had a genuine smile. I couldn’t help but think parts of his words reminded me of Jake’s accent. They were both from Texas.

  “Let’s talk a minute. Looks like we have three songs of yours, and I have an artist in mind who could cut them.”

  My heart stopped. “Really?” I thought we were going to discuss them taking the songs on and shopping around for someone to record or demo. It never occurred to me there would be someone lined up already.

  “Have you ever heard of Quinn Jansen?”

  “Oh my God!” I covered my mouth. All the prepping in the world couldn’t contain my excitement. It sputtered out. Ever since Quinn had made a few YouTube videos that went viral overnight, people were clamoring for anything she could produce. This was unreal.

  “So, I take that as a yes?” Brandon chuckled a deep, warm laugh on the other end.

  “I’m sorry. You caught me by surprise. Yes, that is a yes. I know who she is.” I noticed that the crowd from The Inn had gathered again. They were crossing the street.

  “Good. I think she’ll be the perfect fit for your songs. You’re both young and have that vibe that people really want right now.”

  Why were there people taking pictures? The crowd was distracting. Great, they were headed into the store. I would have to wrap the call up quickly, and get back inside before Bertie ratted me out. I could only barter for so much time away from the register.

  “Chelsea, you there?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m here.” I shifted in my seat, turning from the scene in front of the store. “I am absolutely blown away. Quinn Jansen is amazing. I think she’d be perfect for my songs. I just can’t believe she’d want to record something of mine.” Quinn was known for her indie roots, but this seemed too good to be true.

  “Why wouldn’t she? She’s friends with Ben too.”

  I didn’t want to sound like any more of a rookie than I already had, but I didn’t know who Ben was. Maybe a producer.

  “When Ben’s agent called and said he wanted us to take a look at your material, it was a no brainer. Ben and I go way back. Played football together in college, but I’m sure he’s mentioned that to you.”

  I shook my head. “Mr.—” I corrected myself, “Brandon. I don’t know a Ben.” This was embarrassing. He was probably an important and influential music maker, and I had to admit to the head of Blue Steel Records I had never heard of him.

  “Ben Baldwin? Tall guy? Makes all the ladies swoon? He’s got a Texas accent—likes cold beer? You don’t know the movie star, Ben Baldwin?”

  I slumped into the seat, my body stiff with fear. Or was it shock? Whatever it was, it made me shake and my stomach spasm. This didn’t make sense. Brandon Edwards could not possibly be telling me that I knew Ben Baldwin. That wasn’t possible. The tall, heart-melting Texan I knew was named Jake.

  “I-I don’t know.” It was the best I could muster considering the panic gripping me.

  “Listen, Chelsea. I have another call coming in. I hate to cut this short, but I’ll have my assistant email over the contracts. Take a few days, look everything over, and then we can set up a time to talk again. Sound good?”

  I nodded, forgetting he needed audibles on the phone.

  “Tell Ben I said howdy, and I’m looking forward to grabbing a beer with him when he gets back from vacation. Son of a bitch has been gone all summer.”

  Before I could put together a reasonable response or even better, a question, Brandon hung up. I looked at the phone, now dark.

  There had to be an explanation. There was some sort of mix-up or funny coincidence. Jake would probably laugh at me when I told him Brandon thought they played football together.

  Then I remembered when Jake told me about his concussions. About how he stopped playing, because he was worried it would do more harm to his body as he got older. My mouth went dry.

  The beer? Jake loved his Texas beer, but any guy from Texas loved that stuff, right? It didn’t mean anything. Just because I went to Carolina didn’t mean I was the only girl who loved Moscato. That was a ridiculous assumption.

  Flashes of Jake scattered through my mind. He used to wear a hat pulled over his eyes and dark sunglasses, and he went through a scruffy bearded phase, which didn’t seem to match the guy I knew now. Little by little his Texas accent appeared, and he called me darlin’—something I didn’t hear him say in the beginning. At that time, I dismissed it. But, could I dismiss all those things together?

  It hurt to breathe.

  My breaths were shallower. Even with the AC running, the air in the car felt stagnate. Oh my God, I might throw up right in the car. I reached for the handle, not knowing if I needed the humid August air or just something to keep me from falling into the blackness that engulfed me. I staggered to my feet and pointed my body in the direction of the rental stand. Jake would be there. He could fix this. He could explain. I took a step forward when, out of nowhere, the flashes started and someone shoved a microphone in my face.

  “Are you responsible for the breakup of Rebecca Campbell and Ben Baldwin?” the first voice shouted.

  I turned before the next question.

  “Did you know he and Rebecca were still dating when you hit on him?”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “Would you like to make an official statement?”

  “What’s your favorite thing about Ben?”

  I couldn’t catch my bearings. Everything heaved and rocked as if I was clinging to a raft in the middle of a sea storm. I tried to push past them, but the circle was tight and I didn’t know which way was the best escape.

  There were more questions.

  “Tell us what it feels like to stab America’s sweetheart in the back.”

  “Do your parents live here?”

  “Is it true you used to date a surfer?”

  I grabbed the sides of my head, begging the questions to stop. It was like being swarmed by angry bees. Some stings hurt worse than others, but they were all public and all intensely confusing, leaving open wounds for the world to see.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Ben

  Bertie had called me inside to help her unload a box of Frisbees and a few cases of sunscreen. Sometimes I thought the woman just didn’t like being alone in the store. Chelsea had barely been gone thirty seconds before I got paged for manual labor.

  “Only these four boxes?” I called to Bertie, but she didn’t answer. I ripped open the tape and lined them on the floor so she wouldn’t have to strain with the awkward sizes.

  “Jake! Jake! You’ve got to come see this. Hurry up.” I heard her shrill voice at the front of the store.

  “What is going on, Bertie?” I dropped the last box and headed to the register.

  I stared in horror through the window.

  There weren’t words. There weren’t thoughts, just complete panic and nausea. Rebecca was climbing the steps of Davis General Store.

  Her long blond hair cascaded around her shoulders. She was followed by her entourage and a slew of reporters. Shit. Damn it. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Jake, I think it’s a celebrity. Wait, I know her. It’s Rebecca Campbell,” Bertie squealed. “What do you think she’s doing here? Oh my Lord, how does my hair look?” She patted the white curls above her ears.

  How in the hell did she find me? I scanned the porch. Becs hadn’t spotted me. If I ran out of the back, I could probably avoid her. But then what? Was I going to keep running? Keep pretending that I wasn’t a star? Pretend that if I went anywhere else on the planet I wouldn’t be besieged by fans?

  I inhaled sharply and did the only thing I could do—meet Rebecca head on.

  I pulled on the glass door, inviting a blast of hot air into the store.

  “Ben. Oh my God, Ben.” She wrapped her hands around my neck and buried her head against my che
st. I heard the camera clicks before I had a chance to catch my balance from her embrace. The scent of her familiar French perfume invaded my nostrils.

  “Rebecca, what are you doing here?” I pushed her off and away. The few reporters who were observing the exchange crowded closer. “Wait, don’t say anything. Let’s go somewhere private.”

  I put an arm around her shoulder to shuttle her inside, but she dug her designer heels into the floorboards.

  “No, Ben. I’ve been searching for you for weeks. Please don’t make me move a single inch. I need to just look at you—make sure it’s really you.” She advanced toward me again. “I missed you so much.”

  “Ben, is it true you dumped Rebecca?” One of the reporters asked.

  “Do you miss her?”

  “Does this mean you two are back together?”

  The questions came in rapid succession. Becs spun toward the cameras, smiling sweetly. “I’m sure you can all understand how special and precious this moment is to us. We’ll take just a few questions, ok?”

  Stepping onto that porch, I had stepped onto a landmine. Mini-bombs that exploded with each question, with each bat of Rebecca’s eyelashes. This entire reunion was an orchestrated ambush. I slid my hands in my pockets and looked at the floor.

  “I’m sorry, everyone. Rebecca can take questions, but I’m not making any statements right now.” I smiled widely. “But, I know a great little seafood restaurant y’all might want to try—”

  Before I could finish my attempt to derail the media inquiries, another reporter ran from the employee parking lot. “She’s over here! We found the other woman!”

  The photographers scurried down the stairs. I froze, trying to sort through what that even meant.