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Tyler turned the charm on immediately, dazzling the owner and his two waitresses—his daughters, as it turned out. “My doctor told me I need Greek food for my heart.”

“Your heart. Your heart, yes.” The owner seemed hypnotized by the idea of Tyler, the glamor of an NFL player. “Yes. Greek is the healthiest. You know!”

The owner spread his arms, and Tyler did the same, smiling, accepting the bear hug enthusiastically. “Stavros, I need a favor. Can you help?”

“For you, sir, anything.” The owner’s black eyes were huge as saucers. “My family, we watch every game.”

“My friend and I are celebrating something special, but we don’t want any pictures. You know? No press.” Tyler winked, as though the international paparazzi often camped out in this tiny bistro hidden in the middle of the remote California suburbs.

“Of course.” The owner bowed and nodded. “Naturally. Our best booth for you, Mr. Fantana.” He ushered them back to the rear of the restaurant, to a high-back booth tucked in a small nook.

Following Stavros, Tyler escorted Josh to the table, his hand on the small of Josh’s back.

Before they took their seats, Tyler palmed something to the owner—folded cash, it looked like. “You take care of us, I’ll make sure you get a signed picture and tell all my buddies about this place.”

“Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. The best.” Stavros kept bowing as he backed away. “Here are my girls with water and wine. Menus to come. Thank you, Mr. Fantana.”

The two quiet daughters could have been twins, both thin and dark. One poured water and the other opened a carafe of red wine on the table with two delicate glasses. They nodded and left.

Josh squeezed his hand. “That was pretty cool. You made his month.”

“I wanted you all to myself. No cameras. No eavesdroppers. And now he’ll make sure it stays you and me just as long as we want.”

“Yes, please. How much did you give him?”

“Five hundred. This place is pretty quiet, and I want them to take care of you.”

Josh chuckled. “Well, for five hundred bucks, they’ll certainly make an effort.” He knew the money didn’t matter to Tyler, but he had wanted to take care of tonight. “I’ve never seen you do that before… be Tyler Fantana, NFL superstud. No wonder the whole world wants you.”

“Let me tell you, celebrity can be gross, but it has its uses. Wine, check.” Tyler raised his head to peer around, scanning the room to make sure they were unobserved. “Privacy, check.” He kissed Josh. “You, check.”

“Food, check.” Josh kissed him in retaliation. “And I get the check.”

Tyler didn’t like that, apparently. “Hey!”

“No arguments. This is a celebration and you’re my date. So can it, buster.”

“Deal.” As if making up for griping, Tyler was extra affectionate, his hand often finding its way to Josh’s thigh or resting on his shoulder.

Josh raised his glass of wine. “A toast.”

Dutifully, Tyler raised his glass, a smile playing on his lips.

“Strength,” Josh said, as a toast. “I’ve never met anyone stronger, and I never will.”

“Well… I had a little help.”

“Nice try. Drink.”

“Yes, Coach.” Tyler dropped his eyes to the table, mulling something over.

Just then Stavros came back with menus. Tyler told him it all looked too delicious to choose and asked him to surprise them.

The chance to really show off his food seemed to thrill the man even more. “I will. You will see. Your heart has never been stronger.” He scurried back to the kitchen.

“He’s right.” Tyler ran a finger around the lip of his wineglass. “And you aren’t going to like it, but I need to say this. You saved my life.” He raised his hazel eyes, damp with suppressed emotion. “I don’t think I would have made it back.”

“Bull.”