“The Gladiator?” Melody asked, still searching in her purse that really needed to be cleaned out.
“Wellings,” Clay supplied.
“Oh, right, ’cause he’s Italian. I get it.” Melody passed the pad to Clay and then looked in a side pocket, finding the pen. She handed it to Clay triumphantly. “I was starting to think my purse had eaten it.”
“I can’t believe you brought a pad and pen with you,” Clay said as he pulled the cap off the pen.
Melody grinned. “I knew you’d run into someone who’d need it.”
“Right.” Clay turned to the young men, giving them a painful look that seemed to be his attempt at a publicity smile. “And what’re y’all’s names?”
The men gave him their names; they asked questions; Clay shook their hands. Melody found it all very exciting. Clay seemed so huge next to the other men, larger than life, with his black UFC hat pulled low over his eyes. He stood almost a head above both of them. His arms were massive, stretching the sleeves of his T-shirt; his chest was broad and powerful. She took for granted just how tall and fit he was. Garnet bred them broad and tall. At home he wasn’t quite so unique, but here he stood out.
When the men got all their questions answered and Clay complained about dinner reservations, they parted ways. Melody waved to them as they left. “Bye, it was nice meeting y’all.”
They waved back. The short one named Charlie called out, “Nice meeting you too!”
Melody turned back to Clay once they were out of earshot. “They were nice.”
“You think everyone’s nice,” Clay said with a laugh.
“That’s the reason I let you buy me this dress,” Melody announced as they came up on the restaurant. “I didn’t want you to look bad having some dumpy waitress on your arm with all these fans everywhere.”
Clay turned around, giving her a horrified look. “You’re not dumpy.”
“I see all those women wanting your attention,” Melody told him, feeling her cheeks heat. “I saw ’em last night. I saw ’em at that promotional thing y’all did this morning before Jules and I went shopping, and I see them all over this hotel. Watching you, waiting for the right moment to get you alone.”
“I don’t like those women. I like you,” Clay told her, his eyes studying Melody with trepidation. “I never met anyone like you, Mel. First time I saw you I thought you were an angel, and I’m still not all that sure you’re not.”
“That’s sweet.” Melody smiled. “I think you’re sorta blind, ’cause some of those girls are pretty eye-catching, but still sweet.”
Clay shook his head, still looking horrified. “I would never—”
She reached up, squeezing his big hand in hers. “I know.”
Melody’s smile grew broader because she did know. She trusted Clay completely, which most people would think was naive, but she didn’t care what others thought. No one could understand the companionship they shared, and she sort of liked it that way.
Clay took a deep breath, his gaze still running over her face before he nodded, obviously believing her trust in him. “Okay.”
“Are you gonna buy me dinner or not?” she asked him teasingly. “I’m starving.”
“Absolutely,” Clay said, giving her a genuine grin rather than the pained grimace moonlighting as a smile he reserved for fans. “I’d love to buy you dinner.”
He didn’t know how hard it was for her to surrender and let him pay for things. Instinct would have her fighting tooth and nail against any man controlling her financially, but it was just dinner and a dress and he wasn’t Justin. Both her heart and her soul knew that even if her mind was screaming to beware. This was Clay, and like he said, everything was okay…at least in Vegas.
* * * *
Dinner was at one of those fancy steak houses most people wore suits and ties to. Unless you were the UFC heavyweight champion of the world. Then apparently a black T-shirt, worn-out jeans, and sneakers were acceptable.
Melody had never been so glad for the new dress. If for no other reason than she and Jules being done up balanced out their dinner companions. Clay and Wyatt didn’t appear to realize or care that by dressing down, they attracted even more attention than they would in suits. The dinner jackets the restaurant had loaned them and insisted they wear were now tossed over the backs of their chairs. Both of them seemed perfectly content to eat their eighty-dollar steaks and have everyone pointing and staring at them as they did so.