by Jaci Burton
Not that she'd noticed. At. All.
"This is true," Emma said. "Why haven't you ever dated him?"
"Bash?" Chelsea slid a look down the bar at him, then at Emma. "Totally not my type."
Emma laughed. "I think Bash is every woman's type. Tall, great muscles, killer smile, and those eyes."
"Phenomenal butt, those tattoos, a goatee. We have discussed your standards being impossibly high, haven't we, Chelsea?"
Chelsea shifted her attention to Jane. "Like I said. He's not my type. I'll just leave it at that."
"And what exactly is your type, Chelsea?" Jane asked. "Are you holding out for royalty or something?"
She lifted her chin. "No. I've actually made a list."
Emma's brows arched. "A list? What kind of list?"
"A list of the qualities I'd like my perfect man to have."
Jane laid her hand on Chelsea's arm. "Honey. You do realize the perfect man doesn't exist."
Chelsea took another look in Bash's direction, then turned her back to him. "Yes, he does. The perfect man for me does exist. And trust me, it isn't Bash."
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