“I own the penthouse.”
Rae’s attention doesn’t budge from me, but Beck chuckles behind his napkin. “There’s an easy way to settle this.” Now we both look at him. “Join us for dessert.”
The waitress is at my side in an instant, eyes widening in recognition. “Mr. King. I’ll bring you a whisky.”
“And a chocolate mousse. Three spoons,” Beck drawls.
She disappears.
“Rae and I were just discussing her next move,” our smug host says.
She shoots him a warning look.
“She’s opening my new club,” I say.
“This is bigger. Wild Fest.”
“Red Rocks amphitheater in Colorado,” Rae says, shifting in her seat. “Massive outdoor event, record-breaking despite being in its third season.”
“Fourth season,” I correct.
“You’ve heard of it?”
“Of course I’ve heard of it.”
“We’re still figuring out her audition tape,” Beck says.
My brows lift. “They want an actual tape?”
“Beck’s talking metaphorically. It’s competitive.”
It’s rational she would focus on a prize like that, but I’m still irritated she’s spending her evening brainstorming with Beck while I was off my game because I couldn’t clear my head of her.
The waitress returns with my whisky, plus dessert. Beck reaches for a spoon and dives in with an appreciative wink for the waitress, which has her flushing as she leaves.
Is this what Rae is into? Some Hollywood wannabe who’s my brother’s age?
She’s not the woman I thought she was.
“How was your day, Harry?” Beck asks.
I ignore the nickname and swirl my drink before taking a sip. “I was preoccupied by a problem I need to resolve.”
The problem being the woman in front of me.
I shift in my chair, and my knee brushes Rae’s.
She jerks in her seat and her spoon clatters off her plate, falling to the carpet.
“Beck, would you excuse us?” Rae says tightly when she straightens from picking up her utensil.
Beck looks between us in amusement.
“You know, this has been fun.” He rises and rounds to hug Raegan, who tries to glare at him.
“Let me get you another spoon,” I say when he’s gone.
I shift out of my seat to seek out new cutlery, heading toward the kitchen. I overhear our waitress talking with another whose voice I recognize. She’s served me before, and I try to recall her name.