“Thanks for coming to get me.”
“I was glad when you asked,” he admits.
Jax came and got me and brought me to the studio, and I asked Levi to pick me up since we had plans to go out for dinner anyway.
“Have you had any other contact from the psycho?” he asks.
“No, thank goodness. Everything has been blissfully drama-free. Have you had dancing lessons?” I ask.
“Not unless you count watching Dancing with the Stars.” He smiles down at me, pure joy radiating from him, and I’m completely intoxicated. This is a new side to Levi, one I’ve never seen before.
He tugs me closer and grinds against me, making me laugh.
“Hey, none of that,” Jax calls from the edge of the room. “Get a room, Crawford.”
“That’s the plan,” Levi mutters as he leans in to kiss my cheek. “Let’s get out of here, sweetheart.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”“I can honestly say I’ve never had sex in a police car before.”
We’re sitting in the restaurant in a circular booth, next to each other. Levi’s hand is on my still-tingling thigh.
“That makes two of us,” he says with a smile and leans in to whisper in my ear. “But it won’t be the last time.”
We’re not young adults. Keeping our hands to ourselves shouldn’t be difficult. And yet, as soon as we made it from the studio to his car, I was straddling his lap, and his hand was down my yoga pants. It was fast and dirty, and so damn satisfying.
“Focus on the menu,” Levi says beside me, not looking my way.
“I am.” It’s totally a lie.
“Squeezing your legs together like that gives you away.”
I glance up at him and then break out into a laugh. “Who knew I had this side to me?”
“It seems we’re bringing out new sides of each other.”
“Hi, I’m Candy.”
I look up to find a bored waitress in her early twenties holding a notepad and a pen. “What can I get you?”
She hasn’t even looked at us, which is fine with me because I’m not disguised today.
“I’ll have the salmon Caesar salad,” I begin. “With an extra side of bread. Carbs are my soul mate.”
She smirks, but she still doesn’t look our way. “And for you, sir?”
“New York strip, medium rare, with the wild rice and a side green salad. I’d also like some bread.”
“Okay,” she says, jotting it all down. She glances up when she reaches for the menus and then stops cold when she sees me. “Oh, God. You’re Starla.”
“No, I—”
“Holy shit! I’m your biggest fan, like . . . ever. I know all the songs. And when you had that cameo in the movie with Adam Levine? Holy shit, so good.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Can we get some photos? And your autograph?”
“Later,” Levi interrupts, glaring at Candy. “After we’ve had a chance to enjoy our meal, please.”
“Oh. Right.” She nods but then frowns. “Wait. Are you one of those stars who gets pissed when people just want to talk about how much your work means to them? Because I have to be honest, I think that’s bullshit. As your fan, I’ve bought everything you’ve ever recorded, and concert tickets, too. Like, you’re rich because of me.”
“Right,” I reply, completely pissed off and ready to just go. At this point, she’ll probably spit in our food anyway. I’ve learned from experience, there is no bouncing back from this. She’s already pissed off, and neither Levi nor I have done anything wrong. “It’s awesome that you’re such a big fan. I really appreciate it. Levi, we can just go.”
“Oh, now you don’t want to eat here?” Candy demands, propping her hands on her hips. “If you don’t want to be recognized, you shouldn’t leave your damn house.”
“Wow,” Levi says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why do you think you can speak to her like that?”
“Well, because I’m her biggest fan,” she says, and I can feel my cheeks blazing with embarrassment and anger. “Also, you should reply to your email.”
I stop cold. No way. There’s no way we just happened to come in and eat where my stalker works. What are the odds of that?
Zero.
I’m being ridiculous. She probably just sent some fan mail that I didn’t see. I shouldn’t automatically jump to the worst-possible conclusion.
I want out of here.
“I’d like to go,” I say to Levi as I glance around the restaurant. Other customers have stopped eating and are watching us with rapt interest. Some have even taken out their phones to record the incident. “Please, they’re recording us.”
“No problem,” Levi says, scooting out of the booth and reaching for my hand.
“You had drinks,” Candy says. “You can’t just leave without paying for them.”
“Yes, they can.” A man walks up behind Candy, surprising her. “I’m so sorry for the harassment from my employee. This is not how we run our business. You’re fired.”