“Fine. But where you goin’ now?”
“First to a yoga class near my salon. Then to the salon. Then shopping.” She pointed at him. “Don’t give me that lost puppy look, McKay. I believe you said no fuckin’ way when I mentioned shopping yesterday.”
He scowled. “I meant it. Any idea when you’ll be back?”
“I’ll text you.” She made it to the door when she found her back pressed against the wall and Chase’s mouth insistent on hers.
After he’d obliterated every thought from her mind, he released her. “Have fun today, Hollywood, because now I know how much you really love all that time-consuming girly shit.”
It wasn’t until she reached the car that she realized she’d forgotten to tell him about the press situation.
Chase wasn’t uncomfortable being by himself in New York City. He’d been there a half-dozen times, usually with a group, but any place he needed to get to was a taxi ride away.
He showered and dressed, walking away from the hotel into the shops in the East Village until he found food that appealed. Two slices of pizza would hold him for a while. The sun beat down, heating the pavement, reminding him the city smelled like ass. The tiny storefronts fascinated him. Everyone was in a hurry, except for the bums. Another thing he noticed? He wasn’t the shortest man around. Here, his height was average. Maybe even above average.
Much as he hated to admit it, he needed to find something suitable to wear tonight. His clothes were fine for rodeo and travel, but not decent enough for a penthouse cocktail party in New York City.
Once again he was reminded of the differences between them. He didn’t blame her for wanting to return to the lifestyle she’d been born into.
None of the shops looked promising for his preferred type of clothing. And he refused to dress in uncomfortable or trendy clothes to impress people he didn’t know. Leaning against a shady section of the brick building, he punched up a Google search and skimmed the results. The closest store was twenty-seven blocks away, according to Google Maps. He hailed a cab.
The familiar scent of leather and denim greeted Chase as he stepped into Western Spirit. The store itself relied more on kitschy country chic than plain country. Racks of high-end leather coats filled the aisle. Along the wall were vintage boots enclosed in glass cases. Vintage, another word for discarded and out of fashion. He peered at a beat-up pair of Tony Lamas, nothing fancy except the stitching on the snip toe, and the asking price was seven hundred bucks. A new pair didn’t cost that much. Shaking his head, he crossed over to the men’s clothing section.
He expected to be left to his own devices. His experience with sales staff in New York hadn’t ever been good. So he was surprised when the salesgirl immediately wandered over.
“You have an idea of what you’re looking for that I can help you find?”
Chase glanced up from the rack of long-sleeved western shirts and smiled. The Italian girl, who looked to be late teens, gasped, “Omigod. You’re Chase McKay!”
Holy crap. He wasn’t expecting that. “Good eye…?”
“Angelina. I can’t believe bull rider Chase McKay is in our store. I saw you ride at Madison Square Garden for the last two years. That was the most exciting part of the event when you rode Tick Tock for ninety points. My girlfriend Sarah and I still talk about it.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear it made such an impact on you, Angelina.”
“So has your injury healed enough to get you back on tour?”
This was one of his favorite parts of being part of the PBR, connecting with fans. “I hope so.”
She seemed to remember she was supposed to be selling him something. “These shirts are pretty basic. The ones with the custom embroidery are over there. Are those more your style?”
“Actually, I’m wanting something simple. And without sounding boring, I’m looking for white or black.”
“Classic choices.” She eyed the breadth of his shoulders. The length of his arms and torso. Then pulled out four shirts. Two white, two black. “These are the same brand but the fabric weight is different. Try them on. The dressing rooms are back by the boots.”
Chase bit back a groan. Why couldn’t he just buy the damn things and be done with it? He hated to try shit on. But he did.
Angelina scrutinized him after he exited the dressing room. “Definitely the heavier weight.”
“Sold. Now I need a coupla pairs of Wranglers.” He rattled off the size, cut, color and style.
“We have those. I’ll take them to the counter.”
As Chase dug out his wallet, he noticed Angelina’s focus kept drifting to the door. And when she caught him watching her, she blushed. “I don’t mean to be rude or nosy, but do you always have photographers following you around?”
“Almost never. Why?”
“One followed you here. He’s been waiting in the shadow of that grocery store awning since about five minutes after you walked in.”
“No shit?” Chase craned his neck and squinted at the man. “He’s pretty well hidden. How’d you see him?”
Again she blushed. “My boyfriend is a journalism major at NYU, so I tend to notice stuff like that because he does.”
“I wonder what he’s doin’?”
“Probably following up on the picture of you and Ava Cooper in this morning’s edition of Talk of the Town.”
Chase froze. “Excuse me?”
“You haven’t seen it?”
How come Ava hadn’t mentioned it? “No, ma’am.”
“They don’t name you, just mention the mysterious man in the cowboy hat. And without sounding all freakish fan girl, when I saw the picture, I thought that might be you.”
“Do you have a copy of the paper?”
She shook her head. “My boyfriend uses them for class so it’s at our apartment.”
Pissed him off that someone had tipped the press Ava was in town. They couldn’t even have a dinner out alone like a normal couple without it being news?
The snoopy bastard had probably been lying in wait today. Had he followed him to the gym? Obviously the asshole had followed him from the hotel. Wait. Chase had taken a cab. Had this guy jumped in a cab too? Why? How had he tracked him down in a city this size?
Face it, you haven’t seen another man wearing a cowboy hat so you ain’t that hard to find.
Didn’t matter. By now probably all the media outlets had figured out who he was. They’d already linked him to Ava, so he’d just add another link and hope like hell this would play well with the PBR. “Angelina, is your apartment close by?”
“Within a few blocks.”
“And your boyfriend? Is he home now?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“He’s got a lot of media contacts?”
“As far as I know.”
Chase grinned at her. “Good. How would he like an exclusive with Ava Cooper’s New York City companion, Chase McKay? With pictures?”
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“But…why?”
“I hate that these bastards have invaded my privacy. Someone is gonna get the story. For once I’d like to control who that someone is and what information they get.”
Immediately Angelina had her phone to her ear. “Ryan? Get your camera and come to the store. Now. I’ve got your first story. The man with Ava Cooper last night.” She didn’t notice Chase’s frozen smile.
Ryan.
Goddamn just the mention of the name made his gut clench with sorrow. He closed his eyes, reminding himself it was a common name. Reminding himself he was here to have fun.
He had his clothes delivered to the hotel. To be ornery, Chase killed a few hours buying gifts and checking out a museum. While his paparazzi shadow thought he was getting a scoop, Ryan had already sold his story to Talk of the Town’s competitor. He wandered into an Irish pub for a beer and a plate of corned beef before he returned to the room.
Ava texted she was running late. After being with her
practically twenty-four/seven the last month, he missed her. Hopefully she hadn’t filled all her upcoming days in New York with shopping trips and salon appointments. Hopefully she wanted to spend time with him before they returned to the real world.
Or maybe Ava is sick of your crap attitude as she’s showing you her world.
Christ, he had been acting like a jerk. And it wasn’t entirely from the lingering sadness of Ryan’s death. He was out of his element and taking it out on Ava. He had to buck up, cowboy up and make sure he didn’t embarrass her tonight.
His jaw dropped when she blew into the room, an absolute fucking vision—artfully tousled hair, fancy makeup and a lavish skintight turquoise dress that matched her eyes.
“Sorry. I thought about having you meet me at Petra’s, but that wouldn’t be fair…” Ava’s eyes narrowed on him, sprawled in the sitting area, in his boxer briefs, drinking a beer and watching classic ESPN. “Chase? Aren’t you going to the party with me?”
“Of course I’m goin’ with you.”
“Then why aren’t you ready?”
He drained his beer. “I am ready. I showered. Shaved. I was waiting to get dressed.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Does it matter?”
He watched her struggle with her answer. Finally she gifted him with that mega-watt star smile. “As much as I love to see you undressed like that, cowboy, it is a little informal. So maybe you oughta cover up all those muscles so female party goers aren’t drooling on you.”
“Such sweet bullshit.” Chase retreated to the bedroom and yanked on new jeans, buttoned the white shirt, added his championship belt buckle, slipped on his boots and hat.
All in under two minutes.
“So? Do I pass?”
She nodded, and returned her focus to two pairs of shoes. One pair, four inches high, were a funky shade of shiny yellow patent leather with turquoise stitching. The other pair, were flats, fancied up with flowers, but were nowhere near as hot as the stilettos.
“Problem?” he asked.
Ava fingered the yellow heels. “I love, love, love these Louboutins. They are so perfect with this dress, but…” She looked up at him and put on a too-bright smile. “But these will be fine. I’ve gotten used to wearing flats the past few weeks.”
Damn woman was willing to give up wearing her fancy new shoes so she wouldn’t tower over him in public? That’s when Chase knew that she loved him.
He pointed at the yellow pair. “Wear them.”
“But—”
“Ava. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
She squealed when she slipped them on. “Have I mentioned how much I love them?”
“A time or two. Let’s go.”
“Wait. There’s something I forgot to tell you. We made the papers today. Evidently someone told the media I’ve come out of hiding, so there are photographers hanging around.”
“I noticed.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” He smiled and opened the door. “But I handled it.”
A look of horror crossed her face. “You didn’t, like, beat them up or anything?”
“I ain’t a total redneck,” he chided.
Any photographers around the hotel were discreet; he half expected popping bulbs everywhere.
Ava seemed nervous, which was a switch because he wasn’t a bit nervous.
He took her hand. “What’s goin’ on, sweet thang?”
“Although it’s been a few months since the thing went down with Jake, this is the first social event I’ve attended with industry professionals.”
“I thought these people were your friends?”
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” She sighed. “Sorry. I’m sure my poor little rich Hollywood girl whine is getting old.”
“Never apologize for how you feel. None of us has to walk in each other’s shoes.” He smirked and pointed to her feet. “And no fuckin’ way do I ever wanna walk in them babies.”
She smiled. “You always make me feel better. Make me feel normal, no matter what I tell you. I just don’t want to spend the whole night fielding questions about the Jake debacle or tell anyone where I’ve been the last few weeks.”
Chase stiffened beside her.
“Not because I’m embarrassed, Sundance. But because our time on the road together was our time. I don’t want to share it with anyone.”
Her sweetness always caught him off guard. “So don’t.”
Petra’s place was a Park Avenue palace, marble floors, alabaster pillars, gilded wood, velvet and silk curtains, priceless tapestries on the walls and floor. The space screamed filthy rich, but it was cold. Unwelcoming.
So Chase was surprised Petra’s house wasn’t a reflection of her personality. Petra faked kissed him, cooed over his cuteness and whisked Ava away, leaving Chase alone.
Tuxedo-wearing waiters circled with trays with food that looked as if it’d been zapped by a shrink ray gun. What was this town’s fascination with miniaturized food?
He’d knocked back half of a stiff drink when Petra’s husband Arthur introduced himself and several of his friends. The men were fascinated by Chase’s occupation. More respectful about it than he’d imagined.
As Chase did more listening than talking, he appreciated the PR training he’d had over the years. This nodding and smiling was actually easier than sucking up to sponsors, trying to charm them out of their money.
Ava was ready to leave before him, but by the time they’d made the rounds, saying goodbye to everyone, he couldn’t wait to take a breath of fresh air.
Until he actually inhaled stanky-ass New York City air.
Their driver directed them to the right car, since the all the damn service cars lined along the curb looked exactly the same.
Ava slipped her shoes off first thing and sighed.
He’d never in a million years understand women and shoes. “So that was fun.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Now don’t take this wrong, but you didn’t have a problem fitting in with that crowd.”
“You’d expected I’d put my boots up on their Louis the Fourteenth furniture and challenge Arthur to a bare-chested wrassling match while swigging from a bottle of hooch?”
She laughed. “No. God, no. It just struck me as odd that you were more nervous to meet Ryan’s mom than some of the most powerful men in New York.”
“Those men have no power over me, Ava. But Ryan’s mom? Shit. He’d built me up to be a superhero, to the person who mattered most to him in his life. Meeting her and measuring up? That’s humbling stuff.”
Ava blinked at him.
Hell, was she…crying? “What?”
“You are such a beautiful man. Inside and out. Thank you for going to the party with me.”
“You’re welcome.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You are gonna feed me real food now, right?”
“Poor starving baby. Want to brave the cameras and eat out? Or order room service?”
“How about if you use some of that Cooper clout and get us a table at the hotel restaurant? You look too goddamn good to waste sitting on a bed in our suite.” He grinned. “But feel free to leave them shoes on later.”
After a leisurely meal, which turned out to be romantic and fun, even amidst a crowd, they returned to their room. Chase led Ava to the bedroom and stripped her slowly. Silently. When she was bare before him, he murmured, “I knew I’d find my Ava under here.”
Her eyes, always so expressive, were oddly wary when she whispered, “Am I really your Ava, Chase?”
“Goddamn right you are. The rest of this stuff—country boy, city girl—doesn’t matter. You understand that, right? I’m not here with you because you’re a celebrity, or because you’re rich. I’m with you because whenever we are, whether it’s in Wyoming or Nebraska or New York City, it feels right. When I’m with you, Ava, I feel like I’m where I’m meant to be.”
“That’s no
t just the wine talking.”
“It’s me talkin’.” Chase inhaled slowly, trying to calm the mad beat of his heart. “Ava. I love you.”
A beat passed. She smiled cheekily. “I figured since you ain’t the type to wear your heart on your goddamn sleeve that I’d have to say I love you first.”
He laughed at her perfect imitation of his way of speaking. This woman rarely reacted as he’d expected, which was just another reason he was so crazy in love with her.
“Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She started in on his buttons. “I’m not here with you because you’re a famous bad boy bull rider or because of your slamming body…okay that might be part of it.” She kissed each inch of skin she exposed. “I love everything about you. We fit together in so many ways. I never thought…I’d find someone like you.”
Was she really choked up, telling him how she felt? “Ava. You undo me.”
“Take me to bed. I’m dying for you.”
Yep. Definitely in love with her.
“It says what?” she practically shrieked.
“The City Star has an exclusive with Chase McKay. And a picture of him shopping in a western store. Get this, one of his purchases was a…rope. Apparently he was pretty vague on what he planned on using it for in Manhattan.”
“Oh my fucking God, I’m going to kill him.”
Hannah laughed. “Chill out, Ava. This is funny stuff, because you know he did it to make the reporter for the Talk of the Town look like an idiot.”
“But why didn’t he tell me?” Shit. He had told her he’d handled it. And she shouldn’t be shocked he’d used a subversive tactic. “What else does it say?”
“The City Star says he visited FAO Schwartz and Tiffany’s, creating speculation you’re knocked up. So they’re postulating he’s buying you an engagement ring and baby items.”
“This is so ridiculous.”
“I imagine it is for him too.” Hannah giggled. “And he ended his day with a visit to the Museum of Sex.”
Ava’s thoughts returned to their sweetly intense lovemaking last night and the new things he’d tried that’d sent her into orgasmic overdrive. Twice.
Chasin' Eight: Rough Riders, Book 12 Page 29
