Page 46 of Don’t Fall For A Bodyguard

The rest of the ride down was quiet until Evert pointed to my left hand.

“I heard about your Vegas wedding. Should I offer congratulations or condolences?” he quipped.

We stepped out into the lobby.

“Congratulations would be welcome. Payton and I are—” I paused, lost for words. The whole thing was still surreal to me. I never thought we’d end up here.

Evert whistled. “Say no more. I can tell by the way you say his name that you’re a goner.”

“I am,” I replied as we headed for the door. “What about you? You dating anyone?”

I held the door open as we stepped out into the cool night.

“I don’t date. Not anymore.” He paused and offered a quick smile. “Hookups are my happy place.”

We hopped in my car and headed for the gallery. When we arrived, there was a line of security outside, checking guests’ credentials as people filed inside. Once we gave our names and IDs, we were guided inside. Evert got busy texting the gallery owner to advise that he’d arrived while I scoped out the room.

“Evening, guys.”

I turned, surprised to find Jesse standing behind us.

“Hey, Jesse.”

“What areyoudoing here?” Evert demanded.

Jesse crossed his arms. “I was invited.”

“Oh.”

“Your assistant, Bailey, sent me the invite. I’m sure everyone at Hardwick’s head office got one.”

“Of course. Sorry,” Evert replied, a dark flush staining his cheeks. “Um, so, what do you think of the show?”

Jesse ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “But from what I’ve seen so far, it’s everything I’ve come to expect from your work. Sexy and bold. I can’t wait to see what you capture on tour.”

“A lot of that will depend on the bands and how much access they give me. Most of that work involves taking candid shots and behind-the-scenes stuff.”

That was gonna be interesting.

Jesse cleared his throat and nodded. “Just don’t take any of me.”

Evert gave Jesse a slow once-over and despite being in bodyguard mode, I couldn’t help but notice the tension between them.

“I go where the muse takes me, cariño. Don’t be surprised if you end up on these walls someday,” Evert replied smoothly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a gallery manager to flag down. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Jesse nodded, and I followed Evert into the crowd, scanning the room.

Jesse was right. One picture after another was stunning and sexy. There were famous faces I recognized, but not all of them. And there was a grittiness to the scenes that Evert captured—mostly in clubs, or at parties. These weren’t carefully manipulated poses in a studio. I’d seen his work in both spaces. Evert did a lot of promo shots for various bands, including Wayward Lane.

Evert finally managed to locate the manager, a twenty-something guy who didn’t spare a glance at me. I guess since I wasn’t a rich dude ready to buy all the artwork, I wasn’t deserving of acknowledgment. Ignoring the guy’s rudeness, Evert did the intros, and I said hello, but I didn’t offer my hand. I could be rude as fuck, too, when warranted. Whatever. My job was to be seen and not heard. I stood nearby and picked up bits and pieces of the conversations going on around me.

The manager’s talking jag came to an end when he got called away by another patron. The who’s who of Nashville was here tonight and more people came up to talk to Evert about his work. There were lots of air kisses, tons of name-dropping, and invites to parties.

After an hour, Evert excused himself from the crowd and turned to me. “Where’s the fucking bar in this place? I need a drink. No, make it three.”

I bit back a laugh and looked around. “It’s set up at the back of the room.”

“Let’s go,” he replied as we took off into the crowd again. “Between you and me, Len, if I didn’t need to pay my bills, I’d avoid this whole fucking scene.”

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