Read Online Nothing but Trouble (Chinooks #5) by Rachel Gibson - Free Book Online

of bartenders worldwide who knew they were good-looking. “You know my name. What’s yours?”
    She’d been known to date a few cocky bartenders. Most of them had been out-of-work actors. “You already know it. It’s sweetheart.”
    He reached for a glass and filled it with ice. “It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. What brings you into the Spitfire?”
    “I’m Mr. Bressler’s assistant.”
    Colin lifted his gaze from the glass he slid across the bar and grinned. “I didn’t think you were his date. You’re not his type.”
    “How do you know his type?”
    “A lot of hockey players hang out here. He used to come in with some of the guys.”
    He poured the wine, and Chelsea watched him for a few moments. “What’s his type?” she asked, only because it was her job to know that sort of thing. Not because she was nosy or anything.
    “He goes for models. Like the blond he’s talking to.”
    “Ah.” Figured.
    “I prefer cute and spunky. Like you.”
    Cute . She’d always been cute . For the most part, she was okay with that. Unless she had to stand next to a gorgeous supermodel and read for the same part. And because she was short, everyone assumed she was “spunky.” Or maybe it was her fashion flair. Although everyone always assumed the same about Bo, and Bo had the fashion sense of an undertaker. “What makes you think I’m spunky?”
    He chuckled. “It might as well be written across your forehead.”
    Which told her nothing. She reached for both glasses. “See ya, Colin.”
    “Don’t be a stranger, sweetheart.”
    She moved back into the VIP lounge and set the glasses on the table in front of the sofa. Mark glanced up at her and slid his sunglasses to one side of his neck. “I’ll be back in an hour,” she told him. “If you need anything, call.”
    “I’ll take good care of him,” the reporter assured her, and Chelsea waited until she turned before she gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. She moved through the bar and out into the warm afternoon air. The Metro rushed past, the sound of the motor and screech of brakes bouncing off the stone buildings. Seattle definitely had a different vibe than L.A. It had a faster pace. Maybe it was the cooler temperature. Or maybe it was because the Gore-Tex–clad, granola-munching Starbucks drinkers jogged because they actually enjoyed it. Whatever it was, Chelsea liked it well enough. She wouldn’t mind living in Seattle until after her surgery. She figured she’d need a few weeks to recuperate before she headed back to L.A. to take another shot at pursuing her dream.
    She’d often told friends that casting directors hired her breasts, not her. She’d been forever type-cast as a bimbo or a sexually promiscuous character. Once her breasts were no longer a factor, directors would have to take her seriously. They’d have to pay more attention to her talent than to her body.
    What if you still don’t make it? a tiny pessimistic part of her brain asked. She’d give herself two years. No, five. If she still hadn’t landed anything significant by the time she was thirty-five, she’d find something else. She’d be sad, but she wouldn’t have any regrets. Not about pursuing her dream. And certainly not about reducing her heavy breasts.
    It took her less than ten minutes to walk the five blocks to the Chinooks’ offices. She’d been in the human resources offices last week and found it easily. After she filled out her insurance forms, she headed to the public relations department where her sister worked. The second she stepped inside the offices, she could feel that something was up.
    Bo sat on the edge of her desk with her hands covering the bottom half of her face. Jules Garcia stood in front of her. “You’re worrying about nothing,” he said.
    “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to fix it.”
    “You don’t have to fix anything.”
    “Yet.”
    “Hey all,” Chelsea said as she approached.
    Bo dropped her hands. “Hey,