Strings of the Heart (Runaway Train #3)(13)

When we got down to the cobblestoned pavement of River Street, Rhys and I stopped into a few shops. I especially enjoyed the ones with gag gifts and T-shirts. Once we’d laughed and dared each other to buy several obnoxious ones, Rhys steered me into the huge candy store. The moment I stepped inside, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. “That smell is pure heaven,” I murmured.

He laughed. “I would have to agree.”

After eyeballing the many delicious goodies under the glass, I decided on some chocolate covered pecan clusters along with a caramel apple dipped in nuts. I also added a famous praline. As I munched on one of the samples of chocolate bark, Rhys put in an order that caused my eyes to bulge. “What?” he asked.

“You’re getting all that for you?”

“I’ve been known to have them ship stuff to me when I’m out on tour,” he replied, getting out his wallet.

“Who knew you had such a sweet tooth?”

“It’s epic. Trust me.”

I couldn’t help protesting when Rhys had them ring up my sweets with his. “No, let me get mine,” I protested.

“It was my idea, so let me treat you.”

“But only this one time since I’m a poor, struggling college student, and you’re mister money bags.”

Rhys laughed. “Whatever.” Once he had paid, he gave them his address to ship the candy to. I had been wondering how he would possibly get it out of the store, least of all back to his house.

After that was sorted, we walked back out into sunshine. “Are you hungry?” Rhys asked.

“Maybe a little,” I replied, after polishing off my second pecan cluster.

“How about some good seafood?”

“I’d love some.”

“Follow me then.”

When he started into Huey’s, which looked like a higher-end restaurant, I grabbed his arm. “No, I’m not dressed for this place,” I hissed, motioning to my jeans and T-shirt.

“It’ll be fine.”

“No, Rhys, please.”

His brows shot up. “Does it really bother you that much? Because I could give two shits about the way you’re dressed, and I’m a VIP.”

A smile played on my lips at his words. “Are you sure?”

“I’d hardly call my Ralph Lauren shirt and shorts black tie. Besides, it’s a tourist trap. Lots of people stumble in not realizing.”

“Fine. If you say so.”

“Trust me,” he said, holding my gaze with his dark eyes.

“Okay,” I muttered lamely.

He grinned as we walked up to the hostess stand. When the hostess glanced up from a pile of menus, she did a double take at the sight of Rhys. I think it was safe to say she totally recognized him not from being a hometown boy, but from his Runaway Train fame. “Oh, um, hi, how many?”

“Just two. Can we get a table with a river view?”

“Sure, yeah, one second.” She wrote and rewrote some numbers on a whiteboard before grabbing two menus. “Right this way,” she replied, with a megawatt smile that belonged on a Miss America contestant.

As she started leading us through the maze of tables, I leaned in close to Rhys. “I’m pretty sure your VIP status just jacked someone else’s table for us.”

Rhys chuckled. “I’m surprised she even recognized me. The bass player is never the noticed one in a band.”

I fought the urge to tell him that not all bass players were as hot as he was. Instead, I replied, “Here I thought it was the drummer lost behind the kit.”

“Do you think AJ could ever be lost to fans?”

I laughed. “Not really.”

The hostess motioned to our table, which gave us a great view of the river past the crowds sauntering down the street. Once she sat the menus down, she swept a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled broadly at Rhys. “Have a great dinner.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we will.”

Once she was out of earshot, I couldn’t help laughing. “Frankly, I don’t think she even noticed I was alive. She had total Rhys tunnel vision.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he teased, as he picked up his menu.

“Now you’re starting to sound like Jake or AJ.”

“That’s an awfully cocky combination.”

I laughed. “Exactly.” Glancing at my menu, I asked, “So what’s good here?”

“Since I’ve eaten your nana’s cooking before, I know you like Southern food.”

“What kind of Southern girl would I be if I didn’t enjoy collard greens and fried green tomatoes?”

“Not a very good one,” Rhys replied. Waving his menu, he added, “This place is f**king fabulous when it comes to Southern food. The fried green tomatoes here are kick-ass. Plus there’s low country boil on the menu, so you should be able to get the greens I know you love.”

My stomach rumbled in appreciation at his words. “Sounds good to me. Of course, everything looks good.”

When our waiter, with the name-tag, Lance, arrived, he had a star-struck moment as well at Rhys’s presence. “I know you’re here to eat and I don’t want to bother you, but I’m a huge Runaway Train fan,” he said, after he got our drink and appetizer orders.