And of course he was dying to know. She didn’t blame him for that. She just wasn’t ready to talk about her issues. She shrugged the robe back on, tied it at her waist, and then emerged from the bathroom to find him fully dressed, his hair still a tousled mess, but his clothing tucked and ready to go. He flipped through his phone, barely glancing at her as she grabbed her bag. “Not even twenty-four hours and we’re already making headlines.”
“Really?”
“Someone saw us last night,” he said, voice cranky. “I hope you’re ready to be papped.”
Chelsea shrugged, pulling out a comfortable knit maxi dress. “I knew it was bound to happen when we got together. That’s fine.”
“Just try and ignore them. And if they get too close, you let me know.” The protective look on his face was fierce. “They’ll pressure you if you let them.”
“You’ll be right there, right?” At his nod, she continued. “Then I won’t be afraid of them.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “What do you think about a bodyguard for a few weeks? Just until things cool down and our lives get back to normal?”
Chelsea thought about it. A bodyguard might be a little intrusive. But . . . she also wouldn’t be alone. She remembered the cruel fan at her last bout, the one who had turned the lights off on her. “I think a bodyguard is a great idea,” she decided.
Sebastian looked pleased. “We’ll get you one when we fly back.”
“I’m ready to go back now.”
It was clear from his expression that she’d surprised him. “I thought you wanted to do a few touristy things?”
Not if they were going to get stalked by the paparazzi. Not if she was going to be trapped in this room with Sebastian and him constantly wondering and needing to know what was going on with her.
Besides, she had practice tomorrow night. Best to get settled in and back to her old lifestyle. “No, I think I’m ready to return. New Orleans isn’t holding as much appeal for me as I thought.”
“When we get back to New York, I should warn you that my mother and her ever-present camera crew are probably going to bombard us.”
Chelsea just gave him a wicked grin. “Are you kidding? I’d love to meet the family.”
He groaned.
Chapter Ten
Chelsea’s phone buzzed with an incoming text while they were on the jet back to New York.
Gretchen: I cannot believe you!
Chelsea: What?
Gretchen: I just saw your face on the Internet. You got married? To Sebastian?
Chelsea: Oh, yup, I did! It was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing.
Gretchen: I. Am. So. Hurt.
Chelsea: What? Why?
Gretchen: You never told me you were even dating! I thought you were two seconds away from joining a roller derby nunnery.
Chelsea: Ha! No, like I said, it was super sudden.
Gretchen: Oh man. Drunk wedding? Been there, done that. Wait, no I haven’t. Because I wouldn’t do that to my friends. And in case you can’t feel it, I’m totally shaming you with my judgmental stares right now.
Chelsea: I’m sorry. We decided to just up and do it. We didn’t think about inviting anyone.
Gretchen: You guys must have really hit it off at the party the other night. Right? He saw you in the derby gear and decided he had to nail that shit down, am I right?
Chelsea thought for a moment. How far were they going to go in their charade? They hadn’t really talked things over. She looked over at Sebastian, who was writing something down on a notepad. “I’m getting grilled by Gretchen. What’s our cover story? She thinks we had a drunk hookup that turned into a marriage.”
He glanced over at Chelsea, gaze flicking to her mouth. “Doesn’t she know you don’t drink?”
For some reason, his focus on her lips made her feel . . . nervous. Weird and fluttery. “I don’t know if she knows. I used to drink.”
“Oh? And you stopped?”
“I did.” And she left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t ask questions. Instead, she gave him a challenging look, as if daring him to ask about it.
He only leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “What kind of story do you want to go with?”
“Love at first sight?” She offered. “Stars aligning? Birds singing? A chorus of angels overhead at the glimpse of you?”
His mouth quirked in a half smile and he shook his head. “You clearly want to have everyone picturing me as a way more romantic man than I am.”
“You’re not romantic? I’m gasping in shock here.”
“Oh, I’m romantic enough, but only with the right incentive.” He wiggled his eyebrows and then leaned back in his chair, gaze thoughtful. “We could tell her you have a magic vagina.”
“A what?”
“Yep. Magic vagina. Or one like a Venus flytrap. My dick went inside and never came back out.”
She batted him on the arm. “Yeah, right. I’m trying to think of believable things. I need something to tell her. She’s one of my best friends.” She thought for a moment, and then looked over at him. “What if we position me as a gold digger?”
Sebastian gave her a sleepy but skeptical look that made her wonder how long he’d been awake last night while she’d been in the midst of her panic attack. A vague memory flashed, of rain and his hands stroking over her damp shoulders, her hair, him soothing her with wordless noises. He was a good guy, she realized with a twinge of guilt. He deserved better than her. She was all fucked up.
“We need a story,” Chelsea prompted again. She needed a distraction, too.