Absolutely Famous(15)

He groans against me and squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes, but don’t change, baby. You look gorgeous.” He opens his eyes and steps back, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he tries to calm his temper down. “Let’s go before I tear the damn dress off of you and take you against the wall.”

Hmmm, maybe it’s not just his temper that needs calming down. Drew takes my hand in his and tugs me out the door.

Dinner at BlueSky Steakhouse is relaxing and fun, even with the scary former Navy SEALS that are surrounding our corner table, buffering us from any intrusion.

We caused somewhat of a commotion when we arrived, which was pretty embarrassing. I’ll admit that it’s difficult to sneak in anywhere with Drew’s famous face and to some degree, mine. But showing up with three giant, tattooed men in suits in tow? Not a chance in hell that you’re going unnoticed.

Despite the initial fuss caused by our arrival, we’re able to eat our meal in peace and the waiter assigned to us is nothing but professional. No gushing or odd looks from him all night. The wall of muscle manages to keep fans away and if anyone wanted to take a picture, they’d probably only get half a shot, with Steve’s big head blocking out the other half since he planted himself right in front of our table so he can stare menacingly out on the restaurant. Steve even tried to prevent the chef from stopping by earlier to say hello, but Drew waved him off. He loves talking food with professionals.

When I move to excuse myself to use the ladies’ room, Drew reacts by jumping to my side. “Steve, take Sydney to the restroom,” he barks, making me flinch back.

No way am I going to argue with him about this, considering the last time I used a public bathroom I was attacked by a crazy stalker. Plus, he looks stressed enough to snap at any moment.

Drew helps me out of my chair and then has me follow Steve to the facilities.

“I’ll just check first, Miss Tannen,” Steve says when we reach the ladies’ room door. What? This is a ridiculous.

“You can’t be serious, Steve?” Is he really going into the women’s bathroom to look for threats?

Yes, yes he is.

He barges right on in and I hear a woman yelp. Steve comes back out less than three seconds later. “You can go in Miss Tannen, it’s all clear.” As he speaks a shaken middle aged woman emerges, red-faced and embarrassed by the intrusion. I smile apologetically at her as she rushes by.

How embarrassing.

When I finish and get back to the table to sit down, Drew looks more than just stressed out, he looks livid. His jaw is tight and his teeth are grinding furiously. His lovely green eyes are hooded by a deep ‘v’ that mars his brow. He stands stiffly to pull out my chair and I sit, unsure what has him so irate.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” Taking in the anger on Drew’s face, I start nervously looking around for the potential danger.

Drew sighs and unclenches some as he sits down, realizing that he’s scaring me. “Everything’s fine, Syd. I told you that scrap of a dress would be the death of me,” he growls in a low voice.

I must look as confused as I feel, because he exhales and explains. “At least half of the men in the restaurant were eye-fucking you as you left, and the other half were eye-fucking you as you came back.”

I should be mad that he scared the shit out of me simply because he’s jealous, but instead I just grin and reach across the table for his hand. “You’re so sweet, babe. I love you,” I whisper so only he can hear me.

I see his face soften and his mouth quirks up a little in the corner, trying not to smile back at me. Then his adorable grin breaks through and that delicious dimple appears on his cheek.

“One day, Sydney. I’m going to go to jail for beating the shit out of someone who looks at you funny,” he kids, shaking his head as he speaks.

At least, I hope he’s kidding.

After finishing our almost perfect meal, we exit the restaurant into an unexpected tsunami of paparazzi and fans gathered on the street outside. What the hell? Don’t any of these people have anything better to do than watch us walk?

“Where did they come from?” I ask.

Drew stiffens next to me, gripping my hand tight. “Syd, stay close and don’t let go of my hand.” His tone lets me know not to argue. “Someone must have posted our location. God I fucking hate the internet sometimes,” he complains under his breath.

Steve goes out first, elbowing anyone and everyone out of our way, trying to keep them from touching us. Sal is behind us, preventing people from pushing into us from the back. Evan is positioned next to me, so no one can approach me from the side.