British Bachelor: A Hero Club Novel

by K. K. Allen

  Laughter escaped my throat as relief flooded my veins. I found myself pleasantly surprised to be recognized for something other than being a playboy reality star. Lifting my hands and shoulders, I grinned. “I timed out, I guess. Two Olympics were plenty enough for me. I didn’t think anyone would remember that.” I flashed him a smile.

  “You were ridiculous in the water. You are the reason I took up swimming in high school. I wanted to be you, man.”

  “Thank you, mate.” While his comments were flattering, they were starting to make me feel old. Roger couldn’t be more than four years younger than I. I had only been sixteen at my first Olympic swim meet, but so much time had passed since then.

  “I just knew it was you when you started swimming those laps.” Roger glanced between Chelsea and me, appearing confused. “Are you friends with Chelsea? How have we not met until now?”

  I saw Chelsea watching us in my peripheral, and when Roger called her out, she stepped forward to the edge of the pool before sitting and sticking her legs in. “He’s a friend of Simon’s, his houseguest.” Chelsea turned to me. “Don’t mind Roger. He’s a little obsessive when it comes to water sports.”

  “Ah, shit,” Maisey said as she pulled herself up to sit on her raft. “I hate to ruin the party, but Roger and I have to go.” She turned to Roger. “We have to leave soon to meet your parents at the yacht club.”

  Maisey exited the pool first, and Roger followed her. They disappeared into Chelsea’s pool house, then it was just the woman in the yellow bikini and me.

  “Working on your tan?” I called from across the pool.

  She smiled and slipped into the pool. “Something like that.”

  I sank back into the water, too, keeping my distance so we were still at completely different ends. “I was thinking,” I said, moving toward my beer waiting for me at the edge of the pool. “If I’m going to draw you some body art, I should get to know you a wee bit better.”

  Chelsea walked her way to the four-foot section of the pool, leaving a foot of her above the water to where I could just see the top of her cleavage. “That sounds a bit one-sided if you ask me.”

  “Well, you’re not making me body art, now are you?”

  “I could.”

  I chuckled. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t let you draw my art if my life depended on it.”

  She grinned. “Fine, but I won’t give up information freely. For everything you learn about me, you have to tell me something about you.”

  That plan didn’t sound entirely threatening, though I wasn’t thinking straight at the sight of her, especially when it was still in the back of mind that she could have seen me wanking off earlier. “Deal.”

  “Yeah?” Her eyes lit up as she stepped toward me in the pool.

  It was instinct that made me meet her in the middle. “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s start now.” She was an inch in front of me, her head only reaching my chest, and I had the strong desire to lift her tight body and wrap those slim legs around my waist. “First question,” I said instead. “What were you writing in that notebook of yours?”

  I loved that her face flushed every time I asked her something personal.

  “I told you I like to write.”

  “Yes. But you didn’t tell me what you like to write.”

  “Does it matter?”

  I shrugged. “Depends if you want a tattoo of the Cat in the Hat or Fabio.”

  She laughed hard and deep, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her entire face lit up with it. “Funny,” she finally said. “But…” She seemed to think twice about what she was going to say before finally spitting out, “It would be closer to the Fabio version, I suppose.”

  My jaw fell open. I was half-shocked that she actually admitted that to me and half-amused that the nanny was spending her free time conjuring up sex scenes.

  “Like that book you let me borrow, Dangerous Hearts?”

  “Similar but different.”

  I chuckled. “You write porn.”

  Her hand flew out and smacked me in the arm. “No, I do not write porn. I write romance, love stories with steamy situations that move the story along. Nothing gratuitous, I assure you.”

  My grin stretched with her words. “Steamy situations?”

  Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. “Never mind. Can we change the subject? Or swim? Isn’t that what you came here to do?”

  I shrugged. “I got my laps in. Now I’m just here to hang out with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Charming. But I’m getting out of the water.”

  With that, Chelsea pushed up over the edge, giving me a nice view of her arse once more. I didn’t want to look away, but when I heard the door to Chelsea’s pool house open, I averted my gaze so fast that I got a wee bit dizzy.

  “We’re out of here,” Maisey called before hugging her friend. “Lunch later this week?”

  Chelsea nodded then leaned in to hug Roger too. For the second time that day, I was jealous of the bloke who got to touch her, especially when she was wearing close to nothing.

  “Nice to meet you,” Maisey said to me.

  I waved them both off and let out a little sigh of relief when they were gone. Alone at last. Not that I could do anything about it. I cursed under my breath as I watched Chelsea sit back down and prop her notebook on her lap.

  I pushed myself out of the pool and casually strolled to the seat beside Chelsea.

  She threw her towel onto it. “Seat’s taken.”

  Laughing, I walked around to the chair on the other side of her.

  “That one is taken too.”

  “What?” I laughed again, this time incredulously.

  She peered over her shades. “I’m working, and you’re distracting me.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “How so?”

  It was an invitation for her to look. I knew I had a good body. I worked hard to stay fit. But she didn’t take the bait. Instead she pointed at the set of chairs on the other side of the pool. “There’s plenty of space.”

  With a glance in the direction she was pointing, I let out a sigh and made my way over, my very hard tail between my legs.

  8

  Chelsea

  When I woke from my nap by the pool, Liam was gone, and despite my better judgment, my chest sank. We’d been hard-core flirting earlier, which wouldn’t have been an entirely bad thing if it weren’t for the fact that my tiny nugget of a crush was growing faster than I was ready for. I still didn’t even know the guy, and even if I did, he wouldn’t be staying long.

  I wasn’t surprised to find out that Liam was a former athlete. Something about the way he cut through the water looked like he’d been doing it his whole life. There were times I’d wondered if he ever came up for air, but I knew now he was just that well trained.

  That was one mystery solved, but I had a strong feeling that Liam was hiding something bigger than an old career as a swimmer. And while I was curious to find out more about him, it was only fair for me to hide my writing from him. I had never shown my writing to anyone, let alone discussed the content. So far, Liam knew more than anyone else in my life, including Maisey.

  Sure, my best friend knew I loved creative writing. We’d taken plenty of classes together in high school and college for her to know that much. But she didn’t know that I’d been secretly writing novels and hiding them under my bed as if I would get in trouble for them.

  Maisey and I were complete opposites. After obtaining her masters, Maisey had locked down a paralegal position at her father’s law firm and had no plans of stopping soon. For her, there’d only been one man in her life. She’d been in love with Roger since we were freshmen in high school, even though they hadn’t started dating until college. Basically, Maisey had her shit together, while I did not.

  She was practical while I was whimsical, and I couldn’t imagine her supporting my crazy new venture. I’d finally sent my book off to my chosen editor that morning and immediately started plotting an
other. I was going to see this dream through if it was the last thing I did, no matter my fears.

  I showered off the sun from the day, washed my hair, and threw on a pair of panties and a black crop top sans the bra. Surprisingly, I’d gotten a lot of rewrites done. With Liam as my inspiration, the ideas flowed like an open faucet. I would reward myself tonight with a movie and chill.

  When a knock came at the door, I froze in a panic. Tempted to ignore it completely, I threw on some boy shorts just in case I lost the courage. My heart raced, and I knew it was because I’d been trying to avoid thoughts of Liam. Why did he have to make it so impossible?

  He’d been such a distraction at the pool, even sitting on the other side of it. With his bronze skin and sexy abs, and his navy trunks that were tight enough to announce his arousal every time I shifted my position. The only thing I found myself jotting in my idea book were notes about him. His tall and lean body, his cocky sense of humor, his alternative style. By the end of the day, I’d had my next book, Hero, plotted with no effort at all.

  I swung open my front door, expecting to see Liam’s sideways grin and his goofy charm ready to encourage me to do something I knew I shouldn’t do, like go to dinner or go for a naked swim in the pool—which, of course, I would turn down—but it wasn’t Liam at all.

  “Dean?” I felt my face drain of blood.

  My ex-boyfriend looked amazing in a silver button-down shirt, black trousers, and his short natural waves perfectly combed back. When I’d been a little girl and had pictured my future husband, he had been the spitting image of Dean with his pretty green eyes, cleanly shaven face, broad shoulders, and friendly smile combined with his businesslike appearance. At first glance, he was utter perfection.

  But then I remembered the frequent late nights at the accounting office where he interned and the brazen forgetfulness of my birthday and our two-year anniversary and the way he shamelessly flirted with his clients right in front of me at work functions, and my stomach churned with discomfort.

  “Hey, beautiful. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  His easy smile, his confident greeting, it was like it had slipped his mind that we’d broken up two months ago. My blood started to boil.

  What the hell? I let out a laugh to cover my growing anger. “That’s probably not a good idea. I’ve already got plans.”

  Dean’s eyes slipped not so subtly down my body and took in my attire. My I-definitely-do-not-have-plans attire, and his perfect smile grew wider. “I could join you, order us some takeout, hang out on the couch just like old times.”

  “More like ancient times. Dean, movie nights with you were torture. Your eyes were glued to your phone, and you always asked me to explain everything going on because you weren’t paying attention.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, and his jaw hardened slightly. “Look, Chels, I miss you. I’m here to fix whatever the hell I did wrong to make you leave me.” He reached inside his pocket and shoved his phone at me. “Here, hide it from me. I don’t care. I just want to be with you again.”

  My heart should have melted like glaciers in the sun. This was what all women wanted, right? To be the one who got away? To have an ex realize just how much they were missing out on? I thought if it ever happened to me that I would feel conflicted, torn by my stubbornness to show him how well I was doing without him and my desire to have what we’d left behind. Except—I didn’t have those feelings of regret. Not a shred, and it was the first time since our breakup that I realized it.

  “I’m sorry, Dean. As I said, I already have plans. You should go.” I started to close the door, but Dean’s hand shot out, keeping it open.

  “Wait.” He spoke on a rushed breath. “Can’t we just talk for a minute?” His gentle eyes were wide and filled with desperation. “When you broke up with me, I didn’t think you really meant it, Chels. I thought you were just angry.”

  “I was angry.” I laughed, still managing to keep my rising frustration at bay. “I was angry, and you didn’t give a shit, so we broke up. It’s actually very simple.”

  “But I love you. You can’t just walk away from us like we never mattered.”

  “Really? Because I think she already did.” The deep voice behind Dean shocked my heart right out of my chest.

  Dean looked just as shocked when he jumped and spun around. “Whoa. Who the hell are you?”

  Liam stepped around Dean and stood at my door, just in front of me. “None of your business, mate, but you can call me Willy.”

  Liam turned to me and winked. My face flamed at our inside joke.

  Dean did a double take between Liam and me, then his eyes stuck on the Hogues’ houseguest, who was dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. “Do you know this guy, Chels?”

  It only took a second for me to figure out that Liam had given me the out that I needed to ensure Dean never came back. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Liam’s waist, trying to ignore just how perfectly we fit.

  “Actually, yes.” I looked up at Liam with a syrupy smile. “Willy here is my date tonight.” Even though I turned back toward Dean to speak, I could feel Liam’s stare on me along with his arms gently tightening around me.

  “That’s right,” Liam said as he leaned toward me.

  Before I knew what was happening, Liam’s lips were on my cheek, and they weren’t quick to pull away. They lingered, giving Dean time to register everything happening. I didn’t know if I ever would.

  My cheeks burned, and I was thankful for the dark sky. “Dean, it was—um—nice of you to drop by.”

  Suddenly, I wasn’t annoyed Dean had shown up fully expecting me to forgive him and move on with our relationship. Instead, I felt elated to have someone as an ally, no matter that I knew I should stay far away from that same man. Temporarily, Liam’s company didn’t feel like that bad of a thing.

  Dean backed away, shaking his head with disgust. “Whatever, Chels. You’re going to regret this.”

  Dean was long gone by the time I took my next breath then turned to Liam, who was still fully wrapped in my arms. I pulled away like his touch suddenly burned me. “Thanks for that.”

  Liam shrugged. “Figured the guy wasn’t taking your rejection well. Poor bloke. I was on the back porch when I saw him pull up. I wasn’t trying to pry. I promise, but I didn’t know if someone was trying to break in through the back gate.”

  I laughed at that and stepped back into the pool house. “Well, I’m glad you’re the new night watch. I guess that means I can enjoy my movie in peace.” I smiled and put my hand on the doorknob. “Have a good night, Liam.”

  His brows rose. “Wait, that’s it? I save your life again, and you shut the door on me? I thought we had a date tonight.”

  My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling. “You want to come in and watch a movie with me? It will probably be a chick flick with a lot of cheesy writing. You don’t strike me as a Pretty Woman kind of guy.”

  Liam gasped in mock offense. “You’ve got me all wrong, Chelsea Banks. I happen to love Pretty Woman, The Notebook, Sleepless in Seattle. Shall I continue?”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “No, please. I get it. You’re a regular romance addict.” I stepped back to make room for him. “I’m about to make dinner and start the movie. Do you like wine?”

  His smile widened, practically blinding me with its wattage. “I love the stuff.”

  It wasn’t until after I shut the door and he was walking in front of me to the kitchenette that I recalled he was shirtless, his pants hanging so low that one slip would reveal the crack of his ass. I bit my lip to stop the urge to tell him to put a shirt on. The truth was, I didn’t want him to put his shirt on. Maybe by the end of the night he would lose his sweatpants too.

  9

  Liam

  Chelsea poured us each a glass of Merlot and tossed a box of frozen pizza on the counter.

  I chuckled and looked at her curiously. “Pizza again?”

 
She shrugged, not at all ashamed. “That’s what I was planning to have tonight. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it. But just plain cheese? Where are all the toppings?”

  “Ah.” Chelsea held up her finger then walked back to the refrigerator.

  She pulled out a bunch of ingredients and set them on the counter in front of me. Mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, and fresh basil.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Pizza toppings. It’s so good. Just wait.”

  And I did. I had zero issues with waiting and watching as Chelsea bustled around the kitchen, placing more ingredients on our pizza then sliding it into the oven. Never had someone so small looked so sexy executing such a simple task.

  She was an effortless beauty with her red hair spun up in a messy bun, the sun from earlier in the day making her skin glow in the dim lighting. But my feelings were nothing new, and I wasn’t just thinking about how tan her body had looked at the pool earlier in the day. My first impression of the fair-skinned seductress had been how strong and powerful she seemed.

  I remembered the way she’d stuck up for herself with that woman at her parents’ tearoom then again in our first encounter when she’d come out to tell me to turn down my music. It had manifested even in the way she’d wanted to refuse my help after getting stabbed by the cactus and now as she confidently set the oven timer and took a swig of her wine.

  Chelsea wasn’t just a stunning woman. She was beautifully intriguing and wholly unique. The best part was I knew I’d only just scraped the surface. Her eyes met mine as she brought down her wine glass.

  “What?” She ran a finger below her lips. “Did I spill?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Just doing my research.”

  She squinted in confusion before widening her eyes and shaking her head with animated movement. “No. Uh-uh. You are not drawing my tattoo. I didn’t agree to that.”