Page 33 of Falling Like Stars

Zach smiles when he sees me approach and extricates himself from the group to join me.

“That was a lot of ogling,” I say. “How are you holding up?”

“Okay. But I’m going to need a whole lot more attention before I can call the evening a success.”

I snort a laugh and cross my arms. I’m wearing a long-sleeve black top, but the night has grown cold. Immediately, Zach shakes out of his jacket—a lightweight black Tom Ford.

“You don’t have to—”

He lays it over my shoulders. “Too late.”

Our eyes meet and a thick silence falls where there’s just the green-and-gold of his eyes on mine. I tear my gaze away to see we have an audience.

“Everyone is staring,” I say. “It’s weird. Don’t you find it weird?”

“Yes,” he says. “When I don’t find it weird, it might be time to quit. Speaking of time to quit, my ride will be here in a few hours.”

“Gotcha. You should rest.”

“Yep. Rest up for my flight to Alaska. For a tiny little movie I happen to be producing. Could use all the help we can get.” He raises his brows meaningfully. “If only I knew someone…”

Ugh, that grin of his. Like a secret weapon. Somehow, he’s managed to pull off ungodly hot and adorable at the same time.

“Wow, that’s not unsubtle at all,” I say. “Quite the performance.”

He laughs. “I’m an ac-tor.”

I roll my eyes and give him a playful shove. “Go lie down.”

“Good idea.”

Zach makes his way to the back of the house, and a sudden panic hits me. Is that it? I wonder if that’s the last I’ll see of him. No goodbye. No more Covet. No more nothing.

I help J.J. return our guests’ phones once we know that they’re getting home safely. Most didn’t drive anyway and have Ubers coming, but three or four have taken a few too many trips to the liquor station and will have to stay the night.

Dana comes to say goodnight. “I’m catching a ride home with Amy and Brandon.”

Happy birthday to me. I flash a wan smile at those poor unfortunate souls who bid me a happy birthday and head out. Dana leans into me.

“See you a week from Sunday. CBS, eight p.m. eastern, five Pacific.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” J.J. asks as Dana heads out.

“Nothing. She’s telling a joke that won’t die,” I say.

“Nice jacket,” J.J. says, giving the sleeve of Zach’s jacket a tug and raising her brows. “Is it new?”

“Yes. Like it?”

“Do you?”

I let the pointed comment roll over me. I’m happy, I realize, because I have an excuse to talk to Zach one more time.

And it’s really just one more time.

The rest of the party guests meander out, and J.J. and Edison move to the door. Edison Washington was a point guard for UCLA and towers over J.J. by a good two feet. The gentle giant bends his huge form to kiss my cheek.

“Great party, Ro.”

---