4

“OKAY, SO RIGHT after this appearance at the Venetian, I’ll meet y’all and we can walk the Strip or whatever until our dinner reservation,” I say as we hustle through a back entryway of the luxury Vegas hotel.

“This Emeril guy better be a good cook,” Dylan grumbles. He tugs at his collar, still pouting about wearing a sport coat and button-down on his day off.

“Um, he’s on Good Morning America all the time,” Stella says. “And besides, you look really nice tonight.”

He smiles down at her and, again, I feel a niggling thought at the back of my mind that maybe they’re into each other… which would be so weird.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you, Bird?” Stella asks.

“No, seriously,” I say. “It’s stupid promo stuff for this weekend’s shows.” I lower my voice. “And the Hicks from Thirty-Six are going to be there. Do you really want to hear those guys play on your day off?”

Stella and Dylan exchange a look, all of us having agreed that my opening act is not our cup of tea, onstage or off. “We’ll just walk around, then,” Dylan says. “Text when you’re done, and we’ll meet back up and kill some time before dinner.”

“Sounds good.”

One of the Venetian resort staff members leads them to a hidden exit, and they duck out into the throng of tourists. They blend in easily, in a way I no longer can. The door closes, and I follow my bodyguard and my hotel security team down the passageway, but then I remember that I wanted to give Stella my VIP pass. I hustle back over to the door to try to catch them, but when I peek out, I am stunned to see my brother buying Stella a rose from an “Italian street vendor.” The moment is so picturesque. Dylan really does look dapper tonight, and Stella is a vision in ruffles and ribbons that only she could pull off. The look on her face is so blissful that I figure she already feels like a Very Important Person, and it hits me like a ton of bricks that they do like each other. It’s so obvious. Stella and Dylan are more than friends, even if they don’t realize it yet.

I close the door and catch up to my team, back to the grind, trying with all my might to ignore the terrible ache of envy that is settling in my chest. To be looked at like that, and outside of a spotlight, is something I’d kill for.

“Have you been to Vegas before, Ms. Barrett?” a private concierge asks me now.

“Oh, um, yeah, but somehow I keep missing all the sights,” I say.

“Well, if there’s anything I can arrange to make your stay more enjoyable—a spa visit, a VIP booth at Tao, dinner reservations—please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you,” I say on autopilot. But when she mentions the nightclub, I remember my run-in with Colton Holley and how he mentioned his new club on the Strip. “You know, I have been wanting to check out COLT,” I say. “Do you think it’s too short notice to get in tonight? It’s my birthday.”

She pulls out her cell phone with a big smile and opens the door to a very posh greenroom. “You get to work, Ms. Barrett, and I will, too. How many?”

“Three,” I say, walking into the suite with a satisfied smile. “Thanks so much.”

“Okay, that’s it,” the producer calls from off set. “Thanks, Bird. You were great.”

“No problem,” I say as an assistant takes my mic pack.

I make a little small talk with the Hicks from Thirty-Six, then allow my handler to lead me back to the greenroom, where I can grab my two most important accessories: my purse and my bodyguard. Once I’ve checked my hair and reapplied lip gloss, I grab my phone to text Dylan and Stella. But before I can send a message, I hear a knock at the door and am frozen in place when I look up to see none other than Colton Holley standing in the doorway.

“Ms. Barrett, I hope I’m not intruding,” he says with a confident smile.

“Colton, hi,” I manage.

He strides into the room, full of poise—and full of himself—and grabs my shoulders. He leans in for what I now think of as the Hollywood Hello: an air kiss beside both cheeks. Then he steps back and puts his hands in the pockets of his slacks, smiling at me as if he’s won the lottery. “I heard you’re stopping by COLT tonight?”

“The concierge arranged it for me, but I didn’t expect you to track me down.”

He grins devilishly. “Ah, you underestimate me.”

That accent.

“Are you in town long?” he asks.

“Nope, just a show here tomorrow and we’re moving on,” I say, flashing him a smile that I hope will exude even half the self-assuredness of his own. “But I remembered your invitation at our Conan run-in and thought I’d check it out.”

He cringes. “Yes, the Conan run-in. That was uncomfortable to say the very least.”

“‘Uncomfortable,’” I repeat as I head toward the door. “That’s one way to put it.”

He touches my bare upper arm and I shiver. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” I say as we walk through the dim hallway and across the set, where a few crew members are still cleaning up. “You were charming and sweet. Kayelee just knows how to push my buttons.”

He grins. “Join the club.”

I stop at the back door. “She’s not in town, is she? I do not want to spend my birthday with your girlfriend, no offense.”

“No worries,” he says. “She’s not in town and she’s not my girlfriend. No matter what you’ve read in the rags, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised by the delight I feel at this news.

“So it’s your birthday, is it?”

“It is. I’m celebrating tonight with my brother and my best friend.”

“A Vegas birthday celebration,” he says with a roguish grin. I feel myself weaken a little at the knees when he looks at me as if I were a present for his birthday. “It would be an honor to play tour guide for you. We can walk around, have dinner, hit up the casinos. Anything you want.”

I just stare at him, at his amber-flecked Robert Pattinson eyes and his Tom Brady jawline, and feel utterly flattered. I swore off dating after Kai, but it’s been nearly eight months and I’m tired of protecting my heart. Plus, I’ve been working like a dog all summer to get this tour ready. Everybody else gets a break every now and then. Why not me?

I bite my bottom lip and consider my options: (a) Find Dylan and Stella and be the third wheel on a possibly romantic gondola ride through the Venetian resort before having dinner with them, or (b) Ask super-sexy male celebutante Colton Holley to join us and spend the rest of the day as his arm candy.

“You know what, Colton?” I say with a grin. “I think I’ll take you up on that.” He offers his elbow, and I loop my arm through his. “But only if you let me get you backstage passes to tomorrow’s show.”

“Confession,” he says, leaning his head close to mine once more. “I already have tickets. Front row.”

I look at him in shock. “Really?”

“It’s the hottest show in town,” he says. “And that’s high praise in a city with as much going on as Vegas.”

“Then I’ll make sure not to disappoint,” I say, flirting.

“Oh, Miss Barrett,” he says, his voice low, his eyes twinkling. “I doubt you could ever do that.”

“That was delicious,” Stella says, staring down at the rest of her banana cream pie mournfully. “I wish I had room for every last bite.”

“Yeah, for the first time in my life, I can’t even do cleanup,” Dylan says, pushing away from the table.

Dinner was everything we had hoped. Colton, our Vegas pro, ordered for the table. To start, a seafood tower with everything from oysters to lobster tail. That was followed by the juiciest filet mignon I have ever eaten and buttered asparagus that would make my momma cry. We assured Colton that we were all too full for dessert, but he insisted that we try Emeril’s famous banana cream pie and strawberry shortcake. And now, I could die and go to heaven.

“Should we go?” Colton asks, looking at his Rolex. “I should probably get to the club.”

“I can’t believe we’re VIP at Club COLT,” Stella gushes. “Didn’t Zooey Deschanel just throw a party there?”

“Indeed,” Colton says as he stands and buttons his jacket. “Has anyone ever told you that you favor her?”

Stella beams at him. “Thank you, Colton. I adore her style.”

Colton pulls out my chair as we all stand to go. “If Zooey saw you tonight, I’m sure she’d say the same of you.”

“Give me a break,” Dylan mutters, but luckily Colton gets a call and turns his attention to a situation at his club. I glare at my brother, who glares back until Stella cuts the tension by asking him if she’s got anything in her teeth.

I knew Dylan wouldn’t be happy about going on a double date with his little sister, but I didn’t realize he’d be this obnoxious. Ever since I introduced them, Dylan has been the most caveman version of himself, grunting his responses to anything Colton asks and snorting in disgust at Colton’s jokes. My brother has always been overprotective, but Colton’s playboy image has put him on high alert. I guess I worried about that a little, too, at first. The tabloids paint Colton as a party boy, but he’s been a total gentleman so far. As someone who has been on the ugly end of tabloid rumors, I’m going to give Colton the benefit of the doubt.

“Thank you,” he says into his phone now. “We’ll be there within the hour.”

I look around for our server.

“If you’re waiting for the bill, it’s been taken care of,” he tells me softly.

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Oh no, you shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I was looking at a very boring evening until I ran into you.”

Dylan rolls his eyes yet again, but Stella and I exchange an excited look. As Colton offers me his arm, I almost can’t believe the way my birthday is turning out. While celebrity has made it hard to have a private life, perks like these make it all worthwhile.