Chris grinned. “You’re welcome. Me on the other hand—”
“Can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” Rowan cut him off with a smirk.
“In Chris’s defense,” Aslin said, giving them both a serious gaze, “wet paper is actually harder to puncture and tear through than dry paper.”
Chris frowned at him. “Really?”
Aslin shook his head. “No. Sorry.”
Chris let out a snort. “Geez, where’s my entourage when I need it?”
“Not draining your bank account,” Rowan shot back. “Now eat your salad.”
Aslin laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He’d never felt so relaxed. So…so…content. It was a genuinely unexpected feeling. One he could get used to.
And how is that going to happen? Are you telling Nick you’re quitting? Or will you become Chris’s guard purely so you can be with Rowan? What exactly do you think is going to happen, boyo?
He didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to think about it now. He was going to enjoy his lunch, enjoy Chris’s easy company, and enjoy every second spent with Rowan. After, when the day was finished and he had Rowan all to himself, then he’d explore the new emotion boiling through him. Then, when he was buried balls deep in her tight wetness, he would think about where exactly he wanted this unexpected direction of his life to take him. Then he would—
“…the film so far?”
He blinked, once again caught out by Chris.
The actor laughed. “Oh, dude, please don’t tell me you were thinking about my sister again. My hand hasn’t recovered yet.”
“Seriously, Chris.” Rowan’s tone took on a warning note. “Shut up.”
“No, really.” Chris lifted his right hand and flexed his fingers, studying them with a melodramatic pout. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold a pen for days.”
“When the freaking hell do you ever need to hold a pen?”
“When I sign contracts. Sign autographs. C’mon, you’ve seen how bad I was at signing the ones I did in here. Some sympathy would be nice.”
“Chris,” Rowan dragged out his name. “Enough.”
Chris laughed. “Okay. Okay. But honestly, give me a week or two before you pair go making out in public again, please? My hand won’t be able to survive if you keep doing it too often.”
“Another word,” Rowan snapped, poking her fork—tines first—at him, “and I’ll stab you with this. Does your face insurance cover eating-utensil injury?”
The rest of the meal was spent in casual conversation, the film the main topic of discussion. Chris was very happy with the way it was going. He talked often about the opportunity to show the world he was more than a fast joke and a tight butt. Rowan pointed out she’d been telling him that for years, and then commented his butt wasn’t as good as he thought it was. By the time their empty plates were taken away and the head chef came out to accept Chris’s compliments, Aslin knew so much more about the two people beside him than they realised.
Chris hid his insecurities behind his jokes and humour, Rowan hid hers behind a shield of maternal strength and mother-bear protectiveness.
But what was there to be insecure about? Aslin pondered the question as he watched Chris rise from the table to meet the owner of the restaurant. He knew little about the actor’s background and had never watched an episode of his sitcom. And as for Rowan…
“He’s not as silly as he pretends to be.”
Aslin turned to Rowan, finding her studying her brother as he chatted with the owner.
“I gathered that.”
She turned her gaze to Aslin. “He’s just…lost. I don’t think he’s really let himself be who he is yet. After what happened to Mom and Dad…” She shrugged. “Well, that kind of thing messes you up, of course.”
“What happened to your mum and dad?”
Rowan stiffened. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head.
Returning her attention to her brother, who was now laughing with the chef, their waiter and the restaurant owner, Rowan let out a long sigh. She folded her arms across her body, tucking her hands under her armpits. It was the most guarded position Aslin had seen her take, the action of someone vulnerable and worried. “I thought everyone in the industry knew. Hell, since the day Chris first appeared on TV everyone in the world knew. Or maybe it just felt that way to me?”
“What happened?”
She let out another sigh, this one shaky. “When we were younger our parents were killed in a burglary in progress. Chris and I watched it happen. He was only sixteen.” She stopped. Her jaw bunched and she looked away.