“Ha-ha. Except you and Bob can’t tell anyone I’m in town.”
The people Nash might or would come in contact with had signed nondisclosure agreements. If those were broken, his latest lawyer wouldn’t hesitate to sue.
“Oh, yeah.” Travis rubbed the back of his neck. “Forgot that part.”
“I doubt that.” Travis was too sharp to let anything slip by him. Nash gulped half of the water. The liquid refreshed him. “Seriously. Is there anything to do on a Friday night besides sit in my room and chill?”
“If you want to go out, my cousins Maggie and Ryder own Quinn’s Pub. It’s a family-style restaurant with a bar area. There’s live music on weekends.”
Nash hadn’t heard live music since his own tour. “A family place?”
Travis nodded. “The pub doesn’t get rowdy if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Nash was more concerned with fans recognizing him, but his stupid disguise should work. Yeah, a night out would be good for him. Even though his muscles ached, energy flowed through him.
He downed the rest of the water. “I’ll check it out.”
“No dancing,” Travis warned.
Nash rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun at all.”
“I have my moments. Just not in this office.” Travis checked his schedule. “I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning. Be sure to soak in the hot springs tomorrow and Sunday. And use the resistance bands each day until I see you again.”
Nash gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
“Have a good time tonight, but please, don’t do anything bad-boy crazy.”
No way would Nash risk lengthening his sentence in Quinn Valley. He pointed to himself with feigned innocence. “Who, me? No one will know I’m there.”
