Blindsided Read online

  “Because I don’t like to do it like that, Mom,” Chelsea said through clenched teeth.

  She had been under attack for the past hour and was about ready to go back into the linen closet. Currently under inspection was Chelsea’s packing method, which consisted of putting pants and shirts into the bag and tossing her toiletries on top. Chelsea had turned away from her mother to pack up her cosmetics and had found Annabelle unpacking her backpack. That would teach her to turn her back on her mother. Not that it mattered. She did what she wanted, whether you were looking at her or not.

  “This would be easier if you had a real suitcase, you know. This rucksack is just ridiculous. You’re not sixteen anymore,” Annabelle intoned as she removed the last piece of clothing. The small pile got a derisive look before Annabelle started rearranging it into categories that made sense only to her. She seemed to be trying to make whole outfits out of Chelsea’s jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and solitary, obligatory skirt.

  Chelsea bit her tongue and tried to remember to breathe, hoping she was going to be able to get out of here without her mother starting on her. She seemed to be sticking with the bag for now…

  “And speaking of your age,” her mother said as she looked up and fixed Chelsea in her crystal green eyes. Here it was. Damn it.

  “You really should use a better wrinkle cream, dear. All that traveling is bad for your skin. Airplane air is so dry, and the sun. Do you even wear sunscreen?” Chelsea knew better than to attempt an answer. “I’ll bet you don’t. Why don’t you run down to Neiman Marcus. There is one in this town, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, Mom. Civilization has come across the Rockies. It took a few years, but we’ve got it now,” Tony said from the doorway.

  He lounged against the door jamb, his ubiquitous cup of coffee in hand. Chelsea stifled a giggle.

  “Oh, now Tony, don’t make fun of your mother,” Annabelle said calmly.

  Chelsea rolled her eyes. Had she made the exact same comment, she would have been in for an afternoon of passive aggressive consequences.

  “We could go together,” Annabelle said, once again turning her attention to Chelsea. Her eyes were alight with the thought of shopping. “Maybe we could go now. It would be a nice mother daughter outing. Let me get my coat.”

  Annabelle started towards the coat closet. Chelsea made a panicked noise and gestured futilely to Tony. He shrugged helplessly. Throwing a nasty face at him as she followed her mother, Chelsea did what she did best around her mother. She lied her head off.

  “Actually mom, I can’t. I have to leave. I’m having some, um, spa treatments done. To relieve stress. In fact, I’m staying there for the next few days. So I’ll be out of your way and you and Tony can have some nice mother son time. Won’t that be nice?” Nice, nice, nice, yes indeedy. Nothing could be nicer, Chelsea thought frantically.

  Chelsea realized she had sounded just like her mother. She could turn into Annabelle. There was a horrifying thought. Chelsea went back to the bedroom, tossed all her things into her rucksack and did up all its latches and zippers in record time.

  “So, I’ll just be on my way,” she said as she gave her mother the air kiss she knew the older woman preferred.

  “What did you say you were having done, dear?” Annabelle asked. Her little fingers dug into the tops of Chelsea’s arms. The woman had an iron grip when she wanted one.

  “It’s, uh,” Chelsea stammered.

  She had received many strange and interesting spa treatments in her life, not one of which would come to her right now. She looked at Tony over her mother’s shoulder, and once again, he shrugged, unwilling or unable to help. Chelsea plastered a big smile on her face and said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Cranial reflexology. It’s the newest thing.” And if her mother had learned to Google things, she would learn that it was so new, it didn’t actually exist.

  “I’m glad to see you’re finally taking the effects of the Australian Incident seriously, Chelsea Anne,” Annabelle said, finally releasing Chelsea’s arms. It was a good thing she was leaving. Once her mother started calling her Chelsea Anne, the woman became self doubt dispensing tornado. With that she turned away, saying “Tony, what is Jen doing these days?”

  And just like that, Chelsea’s shortcomings took a back seat for the moment. Now it was Tony who was in for the onslaught. Chelsea gave her brother a finger wave and all but bolted for the door.

  Stepping out the door of the condo, Chelsea took a minute to take a deep breath of fresh, non-flowery air. Feeling much less claustrophobic after even that simple step, she started down the block towards Bunny.

  Seeing her mother always made her feel inadequate, and not just because of her mother’s constant attacks on her. She knew Annabelle meant well, most of the time. What she really hated was her own inability to stand up to her. Mother and daughter had always had a contentious relationship, and then after Brandon… well, after Brandon it was awhile before she could even stand to be around Annabelle.

  Chelsea’s knees felt weak and she put her backpack down, reminding herself to breath slowly. Looking around the deserted street, she tried to find something to redirect her train of thought. Her eyes fell on something that certainly took her mind off Brandon and her mother. A black Mustang that looked vaguely like the one in Nate’s garage sat across the street. Great. Now she could think about Nate instead. What a lovely improvement.

  Desire flooded through her when a mental image sprang to mind. Oh, he was so marvelously big, hard in all the right spots. Suddenly, she was assailed by doubt. After dealing with her mother, Nate’s bad boy image seemed to be less relevant. She had blown it, and she wouldn’t get another chance with him. Better to focus on just getting to some hotel so she could regroup.

  Maybe she’d end her sabbatical early and she could hit the road again. That idea held more appeal than it ever had, and that was saying something. She tossed her backpack into Bunny’s backseat and climbed in to think.

  ###

  Nate’s heart kicked wildly against his chest when he saw Chelsea leave the condo and walk down the block towards him. He couldn’t believe he had been reduced to a stalker. Given his fame, it was pretty ironic. She looked flustered and he wondered if it was still because of him. She had left his house hours ago, but the color in her cheeks was still high, her hands still fluttery. From his limited experience, he assumed that this would be when she would straighten herself up, but she didn’t. What was bothering her that pulling herself up wouldn’t help her? It seemed to fix everything else for her. Too bad that didn’t work for him. He’d love it if he could straighten his shoulders and she’d come running back to him.

  He had followed her from his house, cursing himself and smoking like a madman the whole way. He told himself he was just making sure she made it back to Seattle in her crappy car, and that when she got there safe and sound, he’d let her go and forget her. Except he’d sat outside for over an hour, trying to figure out how to see her again without looking like the pathetic freak he felt like.

  Now here she was, heading for Bunny and looking like she was about to take off again. She stopped mid-stride, her face showing sudden, but unmistakable fear. He moved to get out of the car, to comfort her, but he stopped himself. She had not been happy with him when she left and nothing indicated that he could comfort her now. He hesitated a moment longer, and she seemed to calm down. She got into the old VW, but didn’t start the engine. Instead, she sat there, staring off into space. Did she have somewhere to go? Maybe it was time to find out.

  Nate stubbed out his latest cigarette and got out. Now or never. God only knew where she’d be headed after this. Dubai? The South Pole? Hard to say. At the very least, he owed her an apology for reacting the way he did to her decision. She had been right; he’d made his bed when he made her the offer. Now he had to lie in it. Not a good cliché. Now he was thinking beds and Chelsea, a combination guaranteed to make him say something stupid due to lack of blood near his br
ain.

  When she turned and looked at him through the window of the VW, she didn’t look all that surprised to see him. In fact, he saw the glimmer of a smile on her lips before she turned her head and stared out the windshield. Apparently, she had remembered she was mad at him. But not mad enough to keep her from rolling down the window when he got closer.

  “Hi,” he said.

  He stopped about a foot from her door and shoved his hands in his pockets. The day had turned cooler, and, surprise, surprise, gray and overcast. His leather jacked provided him with enough warmth, but he noticed Chelsea was wearing just a t-shirt. That worried him, and the fact that it worried him worried him even more. Yeesh. What a dork he was becoming.

  “Hi,” she said. She turned to look at him and he was once again struck by her beauty, by those green eyes and full lips.

  “I’m sorry. You were right. It was my choice to make that offer, and you had every right to decide whatever you wanted. I just wanted to say that,” he said, wanting it out of the way. A more disciplined man would have walked away then, but he’d never been known for that particular virtue.

  “You drove two hours out of your way to tell me you’re sorry?” Chelsea said. She raised her eyebrow and looked at him incredulously.

  Oh great. Now he had to explain why he was basically stalking her.

  “Not just that. I wanted to make sure you got home ok. Bunny may have a new head gasket, but I’m still not sure about the rest of her,” he said. That and I really like having sex with you. He left those words unsaid. A wise choice, he thought.

  Chelsea glanced down at the steering wheel and blew out a breath. For a long moment she said nothing and Nate wondered if he was being ignored.

  The tension was broken by a man nearly as tall as Nate running up to them. The guy glanced at him and Nate stiffened as recognition crossed the other man’s face. This was not what he needed right now.

  “Chelsea, where the hell are you going to go? You can’t run off again. I don’t care if you don’t want to stay with me, but you have three weeks left of your sabbatical and you know it,” the man said, wedging himself between Nate and the car and leaning down, shoving his face in the window.

  “I’m going to go to Nate’s house,” Chelsea said without looking at either of them.

  Well, that was news to him. Good news, but news.

  “This is my brother Tony, Tony, Nate Stone,” Chelsea said as she stepped out of the car, nearly knocking Tony over as she opened the door.

  When Tony’s gaze shifted back to him, Chelsea shot Nate a pleading look and gestured for him to just go with it. At least that’s what it looked like. She turned it into fixing her hair when Tony looked back at her.

  Then he quickly looked back at Nate and Nate knew there was no way the guy was going to be distracted this time. He was in for the whole ‘Oh, god, you’re Nate Stone’ thing. There were few things he hated more.

  “Holy crap, you’re Nate Stone, from Blindsided,” Tony said as he stared at Nate, deviating only superficially from his script.

  “That’s me,” Nate said.

  Nate clenched his jaw and just tried to act as if this wasn’t as painful as oral surgery.

  “Wow, I love your music,” Tony said as he shook Nate’s hand.

  “Thanks.”

  This was bad and just going to get worse. Not only did Tony recognize Nate, but he was a fan. Shit.

  Then Tony surprised the hell out of Nate by rounding on his sister and saying, “Okay, I’m game. You’re going to go stay with a rock star. Why not. Knock yourself out. I’m going to go deal with the mess you left. Nice meeting you,” he said to Nate, and then he was walking away.

  Halfway back to his condo, Tony turned around.

  “I’m sick of cleaning up your messes, kid,” he called back to Chelsea, “I love you, but this is the last one. And I hope you know what you’re doing.” He gave Nate a pointed look before he turned and walked the rest of the way to the condo.

  It had been a long time since an older brother had been wary of him, instead of star struck. He liked it.

  As for the rest of it, Nate was baffled, but he’d been thrown off balance by Chelsea since the moment she’d strolled up his walkway. Why should now be any different? He had no idea what mess needed to be cleaned up, but god love Tony for doing it.

  “Sorry,” Chelsea said, once Tony was back inside the condo, “I just didn’t feel like telling him I had nowhere to go. I’m going to go to a hotel. Thanks for covering for me.”

  “No problem,” Nate said. He started to turn back to his car. His work here was done, and now he had to walk away from her. He caught a mischievous grin on her face that made him stop.

  “Unless your still up for that plan of yours. What if instead of dating for a week, I live with you?”

  Nate’s pulse raced at the thought of more Chelsea-filled days, plus nights to go with them, but he played it cool. It was his job and he was damn good at it.

  “I don’t know,” he said, pretending to think it over, as if she hadn’t just offered him some type of Nirvana, “You look like you’re getting ready to run off to some exotic locale. Do you have time to date someone? Especially someone like me?”

  He couldn’t resist that last comment. Yeah, it sounded bitter, but maybe he was. She certainly took it that way, and she looked truly upset at having caused it. She moved closer, so close that she had to tilt her head way back to look up at him, so close he could swear the tips of her breasts were touching his jacket. Jesus. From respectable to half hard in no time flat.

  “Nate, I’m sorry I said that. I’m sorry I lumped you in to a stereotype like that. I have to leave here.” She held up her hand to stop him when he started to ask why.

  “What changed your mind? Besides your current homelessness, of course,” Nate said with a grin.

  He was being used, but what the hell. He’d used enough people for a place to stay. Maybe this was karma. And he’d take anything that would get him close to Chelsea.

  With her staying with him, it would be even tougher to keep his hands off her, but he’d take it. Seeing her every day, nearly every minute. It was more than had he had hoped for.

  “If you followed me home, you’re at the very least not as bad a boy as I thought,” Chelsea said finally, avoiding his eyes.

  ###

  Nate knew she meant it as a compliment, an apology, an explanation for her acquiescence, but the more he thought about it, the more worrying it became. Now he had to prove he hadn’t been lying, fooling himself into thinking that he was past his bad boy days. Hell, his temper still flared high and hot, action still preceded thought most of the time and heaven knew he lost track of time working on the Mustang and the hog. The real question was, did he still break hearts the way he used to? That he didn’t know, but it was clearly the most important to Chelsea.

  When the strange turn of events outside Tony’s condo had led them to an unlikely caravan of muscle car and go kart headed for his house, he had felt triumphant. Now he could see what all those strings he’d hand tied really meant. Way to go, he thought wryly. Way to think before you act.

  Having her stick around to get to know him might fuck him over worse than a one night stand. She’d probably decide that he was delusional and hadn’t changed much at all, decide that he was exactly the bad boy she had tried so hard to avoid. Maybe he was just a pretty face with a killer grin and the soul of a snake.

  A smart person would have asked someone, Maddy or Bill, hell, even Sean, if he had any right claiming to have grown out of his bad boy ways. Sure, they had known him forever so their views would be colored by the past anyway, but at least it would give him some warning. A little warning would be good when he’d just laid himself on the line to try to impress the first woman he’d felt anything for in… How long? Ever, he realized grimly.

  Maddy and Bill rarely missed a chance to tell him he was a cold hearted son of a bitch to have never fallen in love in thirty eight years. Only
he knew that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He was probably too soft hearted when it came right down to it. It was a secret he hid as best he could. He’d fallen in lust, even had a few relationships for the sake of the companionship, but he always kept something back and the women always sensed it. The last thing he needed was to get inextricably involved. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to handle it when it all inevitably went to hell. So he restrained himself out of protection.

  Until yesterday. Yesterday had blown his careful compartmentalization all to hell. Chelsea had blown it all to hell. She hid nothing, held nothing back and something in him responded. He craved the freedom to simply let his emotions run wild. For years, he’d hidden everything behind anger. And yesterday, as he watched the range of emotions run over Chelsea’s face, he’d been sick of it. He’d realized what he was missing.

  That was a thought. If her face started to show panic, distrust, anything that indicated that she was questioning her decision, he would rethink whatever idiotic thing he was up to. Hopefully, he could straddle the line between acting like someone he wasn’t and acting like the complete asshole he knew damn well he could be.

  ###

  You can handle this, Chelsea told herself. One week of utter frustration, one more phenomenal night in Nate’s bed and then she’d never see him again. Two weeks later she’d be gone. She had managed to salvage her safe bad boy fling. No fuss, no muss, all the pleasure and none of the pain. On Saturday, she’d leave Nate’s a sexually satisfied woman, complete with an intact heart. She would outwit that smile of his, all sexual promise and mischievous charm. This time, it would end on her terms.

  When Nate had appeared back at Tony’s Chelsea had nearly wept with relief. She’d had no plan, no idea what she was going to do. Her need to flee from Annabelle had overpowered her common sense and she’d panicked, or what Tony called the classic Chelsea cut and run. Then Nate had walked across the street, 6 feet 5 inches of salvation and sexiness. It had all seemed perfect, her badass boy toy ready to deliver her from the hands of her mother. Then he’d told her he’d followed her to make sure she was safe and her ambivalence about him had ratcheted up several notches.