Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(70)

“Maybe if I had a figure like yours.” I replied.

“Come on, I’d kill for boobs like yours,” she commented. “But you keep them under wraps all the time. If you want a guy to notice you, you have to show off the goods a little.”

I knew she was right. But I just wasn’t the kind of girl that did that kind of thing. I didn’t wear plunging tops and I didn’t tell my boss that I had a years-long crush on him. “I’m fine,” I finally said.

“Coward,” Trish fired back playfully.

“Brat,” I responded, my tone affectionate.

Because Trish was a brat – trust fund baby, dabbling in fashion for fun – but she was the kindest, most loyal brat I knew. And she always kept me up to date on Justin’s personal life. Mainly because she had no boundaries and had no problem asking our boss personal questions.

“Does he have someone else lined up yet?” I had to ask.

Trish shook her head, giving me a sly look, her ruby red lips turned up at the corners. “I’m sure he’d be open to suggestions,” she said.

I ignored her, knowing that as far as Justin and I were concerned, it was going to take a miracle of momentous proportions to get him to think of me as a potential date.

Then again, I was the kind of girl who believed in miracles.



After work, I headed out to meet my best friend at our favorite bar. Rascals was new to the Loop, but it had already proven itself to Chicago locals, who flocked to the classy, leather-boothed joint every night. There was always a line around the block.

Luckily, I had an in. Alex was dating one of the owners, which gave me an excuse to hang out there all the time. Not that I needed an excuse. It was the best place in Chicago for a killer martini and even better eye-candy. In addition to Alex’s new boyfriend, Emerson, who managed the place, there were four other guys who were partners in Rascals, and they were all drop dead gorgeous. And not that I was the type to play favorites, but out all of them, I was especially partial to the one currently standing behind the bar. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and some delicious muscles under that scruffy vintage T-shirt. Chase McKenna was a total charmer, sure, but he knew how to make a martini exactly as dirty as I liked it.

Alex was already there when I arrived - in the midst of a pretty steamy lip lock with Emerson. I stood next to them and cleared my throat. Loudly.

“Oh hey, Kelsey,” Emerson said once him and Alex had caught their breath. “Didn’t see you come in.”

“Mmhmm,” I gave him an arched eyebrow. “Wonder why that is.”

Emerson just gave me a wolfish grin while Alex blushed. It was hard to be annoyed at them – after all, they were pretty much a match made in heaven. And with everything they had gone through to get together, I couldn’t begrudge them the occasional PDA. Even when it was supposed to be a girl’s night.

Thankfully, Chase chose that moment to slid a drink across the bar at me. “Give the word, and I can give them a good hose down,” he said with a grin, brandishing the water nozzle.

Emerson reached across the bar to smack him upside the head, and Chase dodged out of the way, his devil-may-care grin never leaving his face.

Yep. Chase was cute.

He was cute and he knew it.

In that way, he was the complete opposite of Justin. Because Chase knew the effect he had on women – anyone who watched him for five seconds could see it – and he used it to his advantage. Every night, he seemed to go home with a different girl.

I envied him a little. Not for his manwhore ways, but for his confidence.

I took a sip of my martini, wishing that Chase could infuse it with some of the self-assurance I desperately needed right now. Because I couldn’t help thinking about what Trish had said. That I needed to make things happen with Justin - make him finally see me.

But how?

I had worked for him for four years – and I was good at my job – but he still didn’t seem to notice me. At least, not aside from his totally-platonic respect. And it wasn’t that he was keeping things professional at the office, either. He’d dated one of the junior designers for months last year, and then our accountant the year before that. Both of whom he’d broken up with in a mature way, leaving no hard feelings, and smiles all around. So what was the deal?

“Do I look frumpy?” I asked Alex once we had our drinks and the boys had given us some space.

“Frumpy?” Alex looked surprised. “Why would you say that?”

“I didn’t,” I told her. “Trish did. She says my clothes aren’t sexy enough.”

Alex paused. Her lipstick had been practically eaten off by Emerson, so she took a moment to reapply before answering. “You do have a particular style,” she finally said. “That’s more… cute.”

I sighed.

At my expression, she reached over and put her hand on mine. “But that’s your personality!” she said. “You’re cute, and bubbly, and tons of fun. Don’t let Trish upset you,” Alex added. “You can look however you want.”

I appreciated Alex’s attempt to make me feel better, but it just confirmed my fear that Trish was right. I pretty much had the sex appeal of a ball of yarn.

Another martini slid across the bar towards me. I hadn’t even noticed that I had finished my first one, but of course Chase had. That’s what made him the best bartender in Chicago.