He looks around at our surroundings before answering, “I think people who come here aren’t looking for anything but themselves. Everything around them is just irrelevant.”
I nod in agreement as I repeat the adage I saw as I exited the airport this morning. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
With that, he just shakes his head and smirks. “You’ve been watching too many commercials.”
Giggling, I playfully nudge him. “Yeah, yeah I have.”
Still curious about his fame, I ask, “So when your home in LA, fans really don’t recognize you on the street?”
Turning around, he leans his elbows on the railing and thinks for a minute before answering. “Sometimes they do. It happens randomly though. I can be going for a run and someone will come up to me, tap me on the shoulder, and shove a pen in my face. But most of the time, unless I’m with the band, people are cool and just leave me alone.”
He seems a little saddened by my question and somewhat distracted by his own answer. I want to ask him whether being recognized or not being recognized is the reason for his thoughtful behavior when there is a knock on the door.
“Hold that thought,” he says as he turns to head back inside.
As he walks through the living room to answer the door, I can’t help but watch him. It’s his walk, his sexy sway that gets me every time. Once again, he turns around and catches me staring; and just like before, he winks at me and grins. I shake my head and laugh to myself. It’s been so long since I’ve smiled and laughed like this, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this feeling.
He opens the door, and one of the hotel wait-staff wheels in a dining cart with two bottles of champagne and a huge bowl of strawberries. I gush a little that he remembers I like champagne and that I like it with strawberries.
I’m surprised to see the waiter pull my suitcase and messenger bag out from under the cart as River tips him. Really? How? When? That must have been what he was doing at the front desk. This kind gesture melts away any remaining apprehension I have about being with him and replaces it with something else. It’s something way better and much more appealing. This I know as the goosebumps run rampant over my body, and the butterflies swarm in my stomach.
My mouth drops open and I take a step inside. “How did you get my things?”
Cocking his head, he breaks into a breathtaking grin as he uncorks the champagne bottle. “I knew you wanted to start the interview, so I asked the front desk to do me a favor and have your hotel send your things over.” He pauses, looking a little concerned. “I hope that’s okay?”
I bite my lip and nod my head as I walk over to him. “Of course.”
He’s pouring the champagne into the first glass as I approach him. He looks at me with an unyielding gaze. Getting as close as I can while he’s filling one of the glasses, I stroke his face with my thumb before softly kissing his cheek. “That was really sweet of you.”
His breath quickens, but as passion fills his eyes the champagne overflows and spills out the top of the glass. We both take a step back and laugh.
“I told you, bartending isn’t my thing,” he says as he sets the glass down and begins to fill the other. Once both glasses are full he drops a strawberry in each, and they sink to the bottom. He wedges another strawberry on the rim of each glass, picks one up, and hands it to me. His grin widens and he shrugs as he says, “I’m not sure which way you like it, in or out?”
Giggling, I take the glass and place my hand over his for a few seconds. “Usually I only put the berry on the rim, but I kind of like it your way.”
I look at the glass I’m holding and smile. “The way you did it is perfect, and now I have a new way to order champagne; not with one, but two strawberries.”
Shaking his head, I have a feeling he wants to say something else, but instead he lifts his glass and clinks it to mine. “To chance meetings.”