“You’re welcome.”

She got in her car and followed him to his house. True to his word, he lived only a few blocks from the restaurant. When he pulled into the driveway of a very nice house, she waited long enough for him to drive into the garage and lower his garage door. Then she drove off.

Good God. That was the most bizarre date she’d ever been on. On paper, he was perfect—he ticked off nearly every item on her list.

Except for all the damn alcohol. She wondered if Bash knew.

When she got home, she realized it was only nine thirty and that Bash would still be at the bar. Still, she had to know. She sent him a text message.

Home from date with Kris.

About fifteen minutes later he replied.

How did it go?

She replied with, I’d prefer to talk to you on the phone or in person about it.

Her phone rang about five minutes later. It was Bash.

“What happened?”

“He’s a really nice guy, Bash. But did you know he drinks?”

Bash paused before answering her. “Well, yeah. What do you mean, he drinks?”

She told him about all the sakes and vodkas and port.

“Jesus. I didn’t know he drank that much. Was he drunk?”

“That’s the odd part. He never slurred his words, he walked just fine, and I followed him home to make sure he got there okay. He seems to function all right. But honestly, I was worried.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Chelsea. I had no idea. It’s been a long time since he and I have hung out. I knew he could always pound down the alcohol, but not like that. You have to know I’d never set you up with a heavy drinker.”

“I know you wouldn’t. And he was a great guy. It’s not like he treated me badly during the date. It was just the drinking—that’s just not normal, Bash.”

“I agree. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I just felt it was something you should know about, since not only is he your friend, he’s also your attorney.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh, don’t do that. I’d hate to betray a confidence.”

“Okay. I’ll do one better. I’ll take him out one night soon. If we’re drinking together and it’s behavior I notice, then I can call him on it, friend to friend.”

That sounded like a much better idea. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, Chelsea. I’ll try to do better the next time I set you up with the perfect guy.”

She laughed. “No problem. Good night, Bash.”

“Night.”

He hung up, and she felt bad for having to tell Bash one of his friends might have a problem. But she would have felt worse if she hadn’t told him.

She trusted Bash to do the right thing where Kris was concerned.

Another date, another wrong guy.

She headed into her bedroom to get ready for bed.

Chapter 7

A week after his conversation with Chelsea, Bash took advantage of having a rare night off. He checked the time, knew Chelsea’s classes were over for the day, and texted her.

Are you at home?

It took her five minutes to answer with: Still at school. Cheerleading practice.

He grinned at the thought. He knew she coached Hope High’s cheerleaders, but an instant mental image of her in a cheerleader outfit flashed in his head.

Yeah, rein it in, Bash.

He grabbed Lou and got in his truck. It was a short drive from his place over to the high school. He parked in the lot, put Lou on her leash, and checked out the football field first. They weren’t there, so he headed into the gym, the sounds of girls shouting telling him he’d found them.

He opened the door and walked in. Chelsea was sitting on the bleachers watching the cheerleaders practice.

She’d been a cheerleader in high school—she’d had her first year on the squad during his senior year. He could still vividly remember how she’d looked in her green and white uniform, cheering on the sidelines while he’d played football and basketball.

Chelsea hadn’t really been on his radar at the time. Back then, he’d been dating Erin Phillips, another senior. But who could have missed the hot redhead? Even then, she’d been noticeable. Long legs and mouthy as hell. That hadn’t changed all these years later.

Now? She was a goddamn knockout.

Still mouthy as hell, too.

Since he was behind the girls and Chelsea, he leaned against the wall and watched for a while.

“Charissa, you need to straighten your form. Your legs are wobbly,” Chelsea said, having set her paperwork aside as the girls went through one of their cheer routines. “And Emily, you seem to be one count behind everyone else. Let’s go through it again.”

The cheerleaders were good. It took a lot of strength to do these routines.

Plus, they were loud. He remembered hearing them on the sidelines when he played. It had always given the players a boost to know the cheerleaders—and the crowd—had been behind them during the games. The one thing Hope High had always had was a lot of spirit. It was good to see it continued all these years later.

“Okay, that’s much better,” Chelsea said. “Take a five-minute water break, and then we’ll go through the second set. You want your form to be perfect for the basketball game Friday night. We want to out-cheer Minnow High.”

Bash pushed off the wall and headed toward Chelsea. Her eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, then bent down and picked up Lou, petting her as she cradled her in her arms.