like his photograph, which Ethan regarded as a positive. It was difficult these days to truly know what someone looked like when so many airbrushing and filter programs were available to anyone with a delicate enough ego.
Smith shared a similar height and build with Ethan, and had longish brown hair that curled against the collar of his white button-down shirt which was rolled up at the sleeves to reveal nicely muscled forearms. His skinny jeans were tight and he wore slip-ons without socks. His tan held a slight orange tinge, suggesting it was artificial. His smile appeared even brighter in the sunlight.
He seemed to be popular with the crowd. As soon as one person finished taking their photo with him and scampered off, others were quick to take their places beside Smith, grins wide with excitement. Nearly everyone here appeared to know who he was, which made Ethan the outlier. He felt like a spoilsport when he eased through the crowd and made his way to the other man, holding his hand up apologetically to those who began complaining that Ethan was getting in the way.
“Mr. Smith, I’m Ethan Winter,” he said, holding out his hand while two young women huddled against Smith’s other side glared at him for the interruption. “From The Elite Poole.”
“Oh, yes, fantastic!” Smith’s enthusiasm caused the negative attention aimed at Ethan to shift into curiosity. “I’m just—” he motioned at the women beside him, “—going to take a few photos with these awesome fans.”
“That’s fine,” Ethan assured him. “I’ll be over here. I just wanted to make you aware of my presence.”
“Great. I’m looking forward to talking with you. It’ll be just one sec, I promise.”
It wouldn’t be a promise Smith could keep, but Ethan didn’t expect him to considering the interest level of the crowd. Ethan stood at the edge of the semicircle facing Smith, keeping an eye on the gathering of hopefuls. After twenty minutes passed and those who had taken photos with Smith were replaced by newly arriving tourists, Ethan realized he’d need to be the one to play the bad guy because Smith didn’t seem to be capable of declining a fan’s request. The man’s cheeks had to be aching from the nonstop smiling.
Once a woman and her husband thanked Smith and began to move away from him, Ethan stepped forward quickly to the man’s side.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” he asked in a low voice.
Smith sagged, though his smile remained in place. “Please. I’m more than done.”
“Sorry, everyone,” Ethan called out, injecting authority into his voice, “Mr. Smith has an appointment elsewhere. Thanks so much for your time.”
Groans met his announcement, but no one complained or tried to press the issue. Smith and Ethan were able to squeeze through to the parking lot, though Ethan realized the wait for the limo on the small island on which the sign was planted would invite more fans to approach them.
“Let’s go across the street,” he said, and led Smith through the crosswalk to the other side. They began walking up the Strip in the direction of Mandalay Bay.
Smith slipped the sunglasses he’d been wearing on his head over his eyes. “It’s part of my so-called job,” he said, sounding unexpectedly solemn, “but, Christ, it drains the lifeforce out of a person.” He abruptly thrust his hand out to Ethan. “We didn’t get a proper intro. Theo Smith. Thanks for taking me on, Mr. Winter.”
“You can call me Ethan. You’ll be stuck with me for the next five days and Mr. Winter will get old for both of us.”
“Fair enough.” The friendly, outgoing vibe Theo had been projecting seemed to have been shed back at the sign. “I hate crowds, believe it or not. I’m not a people person. At all. They annoy the hell out of me, actually. Give me a deserted island any day.”
Ethan blinked in surprise at the admission. “That’s not something I’d expect to hear from a reality television star.”
“Oh, god, is that what people are calling me? My agent told me he was going to push ‘television personality’ out there. I think they both sound godawful, but there’s not really a good name for who I am, is there?”
Who are you? Ethan yearned to ask, but it was too personal. His job was only to keep Theo safe, not become his friend or therapist. It sounded as though possibly, he needed both.
Theo rolled his head on his neck and groaned. “I should have known it