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“Yeah, but I can damn sure well try. Especially if it makes you smile.” His arms tightened around her. “I’d do anything for your smile.”
“Anything?” she questioned, teasing.
“Anything,” he agreed solemnly.
She looked up at him and wiggled her brows. “Got another condom?”
His grin of delight told her the answer to that.
Epilogue
“Paint me like one of your French girls, Jack,” Gretchen said in a coquettish voice, and gave a flip of her hair.
“I swear to god, Gretchen, if you say that line one more time, I’m going to paint you with a mustache,” Sebastian said, not looking up from his sketch pad. “And quit moving or I really am just going to use a photo.”
Gretchen pouted. “I don’t photograph well and you know it. Your man sure is grumpy, Chelsea.” She rolled her eyes and re-assumed her pose on the divan.
“To be fair,” Chelsea said in her best peacemaking tone, “you have used that quote four times in the last half hour.”
“It’s such a good one,” Gretchen said cheerfully. “But I’ll behave.”
Chelsea leaned her cheek on Sebastian’s shoulder as he sketched Gretchen. He’d managed to capture the playfulness in her that a photograph hadn’t managed to get, and the drawing was turning into something sexy, fun, and totally Gretchen. She knew once he’d perfected the drawing he’d make copies of it and then start painting it. Lately he’d been experimenting with oil paints, and the results had taken her breath away.
Sebastian was so talented, yet still reluctant to share his work. She’d managed to convince him that he should draw Gretchen as part of her wedding present to Hunter. He’d been pleased with the responses to his drawn trading cards for the Rag Queens, and so they were here, with Gretchen artfully draped in a sheet as Sebastian sketched. He’d asked Chelsea to stay in the room as he did, both for his comfort level as well as Gretchen’s, and she’d happily obliged.
She’d take any excuse to be around Sebastian. Every day that they spent together was bliss, and Chelsea was happier than she’d ever been. Every day had turned into pure happiness as their lives settled in together.
The video had never made it to the Internet. The man in custody had confessed to the crime, then recanted, but the video was clear and Sebastian’s lawyers were very good. The case was proceeding and Chelsea was involved in the thick of it, and the odds were good it’d rule in her favor. Some days it was hard, and sometimes the memories it brought up were ones she wanted to forget more than anything. But Sebastian was at her side, supporting her, and she never felt alone.
And that was everything, really.
Lisa’s sex tape had never emerged, either, though the Internet still speculated mightily on that one. Lisa, of course, ate up the attention. She did interviews whenever possible and was all over the tabloids, looking tearful and beautiful. The new season of The Cabral Empire had very, very little Sebastian (to his intense relief, Chelsea knew) and focused heavily on Lisa and her issues. Lisa had even scored a gig on Ice Dancing with the Stars.
As for Sebastian’s family, Chelsea had a wary truce with his mother. She no longer called Chelsea “whore” and Chelsea tolerated her. She did like her new sisters, Amber and Cassie, who both looked so much like Sebastian they could have been triplets. And Dolph was hilarious, though she questioned his taste in women since he was still dating Lisa.
“So I hate to be a downer,” Gretchen said, reaching out and stroking her naked-looking cat Igor as he wandered past the couch she was sprawled on. “But what’s with the bruises, Chel? That’s quite a shiner you’ve got.”
Sebastian snorted. “You should see the other girl.”
Chelsea beamed at Sebastian’s defense of her and lightly nipped his shoulder with her teeth. “I was playing in the Austin Wreck League with Pisa and took a flying elbow to the face. So I made sure the other girl ate some serious track in revenge.”
“So vicious,” Gretchen said. “I love it.”
“You should try some derby with me,” Chelsea encouraged once again. “It’s good for getting out your aggressions.” Not that she had any lately, but she also wouldn’t take a pushy player laying down. She still played, though since she’d left the Rag Queens, her spot had been filled by a girl on the alternate team. When she’d returned, she was now the one on the alternate team. Which was fine, really. She’d try out again in a few months and make it back on the team . . . or she wouldn’t. She’d still play. She loved the sport too much to give it up.
