“What in the actual shit is going on?”
“My thoughts exactly,” I mutter, as Quinn and Ryan drop hands when the revolving door that is the Sandbar Cottages rental office lets yet another person enter my nightmare.
“Tyler, this is… a whole bunch of people. Everyone, this is my agent, Tyler.”
My friends all give the man who looks like he just stepped off the pages of GQ a wave, while he pulls a pocket square out of his suit coat and dabs at his forehead.
“Yeah, hi, lovely to meet you. Again, what in the actual shit is going on?” Tyler asks.
“Oh, Emily and Ryan are breaking up, but not really, because they agreed to date other people ages ago, but this just makes it official, since they’re both seeing other people now,” Wren decides to completely not clear the air for him.
“And I thought actresses were insane,” Tyler mutters, shoving his pocket square back and turning to address Quinn. “This entire shitty island is full of idiots, and they don’t even have a Starbucks.”
“All right, that’s enough,” Quinn orders him in a low voice that sends shivers down my spine. “If you’re going to keep insulting this place, go outside. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.”
Did you hear that? It was the sound of my uterus spontaneously impregnating.
“Well, I’ll just leave you guys to it,” Ryan says, stepping forward to shake Quinn’s hand again. “Seriously, it’s great to have you on the island. But if you hurt her, I will fuck you up.”
Quinn nods seriously, like this is even a serious threat he needs to worry about.
“Anyway, I’m sure I’ll see you guys at the steak fry. Thanks for being the guest speaker, by the way.” Ryan smiles at Quinn before he starts walking toward the front door, promising me we’ll catch up for real very soon.
While Quinn just smiles and nods right back at him, playing along and saving my dignity in front of Ryan, making me feel all warm and fuzzy and really want to know what his lips would feel like on mine.
“Don’t worry. I’ll deny everything if anyone asks me!” Ryan shouts back to us with a wave as he walks out the door.
“You should deny it, because none of it is true!” Tyler shouts after him, finally deciding he doesn’t want to shut the fuck up anymore. “Is everyone here on drugs?”
“I know I am!” Bodhi announces with a raise of his hand from the couch in the corner.
With a curse under his breath, Tyler reaches into his inside jacket pocket for something, while I chance a look at Quinn to find him staring right at me. My skin instantly heats like he just wrapped his arms around me and yanked me against his body, and I can’t pull my eyes away from him no matter how hard I try.
“You’re slacking, Quinn; I thought you’d have her all ready to sign the NDA. Did you even ask her how much money it will take to shut her up?” Tyler asks, finally giving me the strength to look away from Quinn.
“Excuse me?”
“Tyler—”
“No, really,” I cut Quinn off, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach that for a few seconds while Quinn was playing along with all this insanity that maybe he actually came here for different, better reasons. “Please, let him continue to tell me how you only came here to pay me off.”
Quinn opens and closes his mouth a few times, but obviously there’s nothing he can say to make this any better.
It was bad enough when he thought I was fake and did this just to be a dick. But he actually thought I was an opportunistic gold-digger?
“Your five minutes of fame are over, sweetheart.”
“Jesus Christ, Tyler, stop being an asshole!” Quinn yells at his agent, but it doesn’t even matter.
Snatching the folded-up piece of paper out of Tyler’s hand, along with the pen he holds out to me, I use the top of my thigh to scribble my signature at the bottom of the page.
“Emily, you don’t have to do that,” Quinn says softly while I wish the sound of his pleading voice didn’t make my heart skip a beat.
Standing back up, I walk right up to Quinn, smacking the NDA and pen against his chest.
“Don’t worry. I will never, ever utter your name again. But you can take your money and shove it right up your ass. I didn’t do this to you on purpose, and I definitely didn’t do it for fame. In fact, I didn’t even do this to you at all. They did!” I inform Quinn as I point my thumb over my shoulder.
“Yep, it was 100 percent our fault. Please don’t be mad at us!”
“Do you want us to do your laundry too? Because we totally will.”
“Get the hell off my island, and never come back,” I tell Quinn when the idiots behind me stop trying to suck up to him.