Drew beams at me.
“So did you just come out here to get me drunk?” I tease. Huh. The liquor already appears to be working. Or my mouth is doing that bypassing my brain thing it does when I’m nervous.
“Just wanted to say hi,” he says, leaning in and resting on the back of the chair next to me.
Someone pokes their head out of the kitchen and calls for Drew. With a heavy sigh, he stands back up.
“Duty calls,” he says, throwing me another of his heart-stopping grins. “Anna, next round of apps are up.” With that, he disappears.
Anna opens her mouth and closes it again.
“What?” I prompt.
“He …” She looks back to make sure Drew is really gone. “He never just comes out of the kitchen to talk to customers. And he’s never that … nice. He must really like you.” She gives me a scrutinizing glance.
I shrug self-consciously. “Maybe it was hot in there. Or he needed a break. Or he’s just in a good mood. I doubt it has anything to do with me.”
Anna gives me a knowing look. “Ooookay,” she says, drawing out the word. “Well, I hope things go well for you. Let me know if you need anything else.”
I give her an honestly thankful smile. “I appreciate that, Anna.”
I take a deep breath and a few more sips of water, though I can feel the alcohol warming my face and loosening me up.
The rum was just the ticket, and right on time, as the directors start to stream in. I ride the short boost it gives me for the half hour or so I’m forced to schmooze until dinner. Only to find myself seated next to Nash. Rum-soaked butterflies beat against my rib cage as his thigh grazes mine when he takes a seat.
Thankfully, I don’t have to make small talk, as my brother gets up and makes a welcoming speech, promises not to talk business, and signals the start of dinner. After that, the directors around us monopolize Nash’s attention, and I eat quietly. The small amount of food I manage to nibble settles my nerves now that the alcohol is starting to wear off, and I’m able to escape notice for a while.
I’m picking at the last of my entrée when Nash turns his attention back to me.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” he says, leaning in conspiratorially.
I give him a little smile. “Just listening to everyone chat. Seems like things are going well.”
“You did a great job planning all this,” he says, gesturing around. “The food was phenomenal, and everyone is having a great time.”
“Thanks,” I reply quietly. “And thank you for coming. I’m already a fan, but I had no idea how much of a hit you’d be.”
He shrugs modestly. “In my line of work, you learn how to get along with a diverse crowd.” He considers me for a moment. “But it’s still weird to hear people say they’re my fans. Don’t get me wrong, I like it, especially coming from you. It just takes some getting used to.”
I’m impressed with his clear humility, and I try not to blush at his other comment. “Well, you better get used to it. Your star is rising, after all.”
“You think?” he asks, his eyes wide like a kid at Christmas.
“I’ve got the numbers to prove it,” I tease. “But seriously, yes, absolutely. You could do anything you want with the following you’ve got.”
“Good. I’ve got big plans.”
“Yeah? Like what?” I ask, curious.
He scrunches his nose up and rubs a hand over his beard. “You’re gonna think I’m a cliché.”
I level a pointed stare at him, and he chuckles.
“I want to act.”
“That’s not cliché,” I reply. “You should definitely go for it.”
His huge shoulders hunch up. “We’ll see. I’m just …” He shakes his head.
“What?” I press.
“I’m not afraid to fail or anything, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to push something that’s not meant to be. And it’s hard as fuck to get those doors to open in Hollywood.”
I take a deep breath. “Think about what you want. Your endgame.” He gives me a funny look. “Seriously, close your eyes and picture it.”
He looks skeptical but does as I ask. I give him a moment once his eyes are closed.
“Now, open your hand.”
His huge hand unfurls on the table next to me. Tentatively, I slide mine over it, willing my ability far into his future. I let my eyes snap shut as the vision takes me. Nash appears behind my eyelids, older but every bit as handsome, his beard trimmed and graying. He’s dressed in a cowboy hat and dusty Wranglers, with a very John Wayne vibe about him. The vision pulls back, the image splashed across a large screen in a packed theater.
My eyelids fly open on their own, and I jolt back to reality.
Nash’s eyes are open, and his hand rubs the back of my shoulder. “You okay?”
I take a deep breath and nod. “I’m fine, just had a moment there.” I turn, separating my skin from his touch. “Trust me, Nash, you’re going to be a big star.”
He gives me a sideways smile, but before he can respond the dessert course is served.
Dessert is consumed slowly, and most people chat for quite a bit longer, even though it’s getting late and we technically all have to work tomorrow. Eventually, the directors shake hands with Matt, and I watch him bear the contact until it peters out. I’m surprised he allows it, but he probably gets tired of making excuses not to. And he does look exhausted, but only for a moment. Once Alyssa sidles up to him, he suddenly appears perfectly refreshed. His glance shifts to me just for a moment, and we lock eyes. He mouths, Don’t wait up.
I shake my head and huff a laugh. My brother. This is perfection for him. He works all the time and, like me, finds it hard to date being what he is. But a gorgeous woman from out of town, only here for one night? I should’ve seen it coming. Pun intended.
Hannah pops over to say goodbye, and I lament not talking to her more. Once she’s gone, I turn to find Nash waiting to talk to me. I realize it’s pretty much just him and me now, aside from the restaurant staff.
“CJ,” he says, stepping toward me. “I don’t mean to be so forward, but since I’m not exactly going to be here very long …” His eyes lock on mine intensely and, before I can stop him, he runs a hand down my hair, tugging at the ends a little.
“Nash, please,” I whisper, suddenly frozen in his thrall. It was meant as a caution, but as his heat and his smell wrap around me, my brain fogs and I have a hard time remembering why.
“Come back to the hotel with me,” he whispers.
I lift a hand, resting it on his chest to press him away. His taut muscles tighten under my palm, and I’d have to be dead not to be turned on by him. “I can’t,” I manage to choke out.
He raises an eyebrow and cups my cheek with his hand. My eyes fly shut, and all I get is one image: The restaurant hostess’s mouth wrapped around his cock while he watches.
My hand curls into a fist as my eyes open. My visions are never wrong. And because I know he leaves tomorrow morning, that means his plan must be to fuck me, and then her. I work to keep the disgust off my face. If I was hesitant before, that pretty much seals the deal.