19. Aiden
AIDEN
PARIS, ARKANSAS
“This can’t be right,” Aiden muttered to himself.
He checked the address Boyd had texted him, then slowed and turned his car around on the two-lane road. He went back to the spot the GPS had announced as the pub and frowned.
A large, empty field stood on one side of the road.
On the other side stood a nondescript building that looked like it should be a garage for a mechanic—tin roof and all.
Windowless. The car park was made of gravel, barely visible due to the dearth of light, and tufts of grass grew between the stone.
The lack of windows was particularly intriguing. Was it a strip club?
Still, an unlit sign in front of it announced some sort of establishment, and nothing else was in sight. And there were several trucks and motorcycles parked in front of the building.
Maybe he should have rented a truck at Clinton National Airport.
He pulled into the car park and killed the engine, then stepped out and checked his watch.
Just after ten. Surely, the show wasn’t still filming?
Scanning the front of the building, he looked for the entrance, which appeared to be one door, near to which stood a couple of gruff-looking bikers, smoking.
Hesitation pulsed through him.
Maybe this was a sign he should just go back.
He shouldn’t be here.
Except when he’d been at a business brunch Saturday morning with Lola, Mason, and the president of Ipolymer, he’d made the mistake of leaving his mobile on the table when another acquaintance had come into the restaurant, drawing the three men away for a few minutes.
“Oh, by the way,” Lola said as they were leaving the restaurant, “your girlfriend called.”
Aiden gave her a baffled look. “Girlfriend?”
“Isla. When you, Mason, and Gerard were over speaking to Lawton Pierce. I promised I’d deliver the message, and I have.” Something glittered in Lola’s expression, the corners of her eyes narrowing slightly.
Fuck.
Why in the hell had she answered his phone? The audacity of it was unnerving.
But she also had likely seen the caller and couldn’t resist the urge to bare her teeth. Just what in the hell had she told Isla?
Mason—close enough to overhear—stared at Aiden with a dark look.
“Isla’s a family friend, Lola. She’s currently working on a travel show for the Travelog Channel that I’m sponsoring and likely had a business-related question. The information about it is on their website if you don’t believe me. In the future, I can take my own calls. Thank you.”
And that had been that. He’d finally played the winning card. Perhaps now he could finally and truly put any worry about any leverage that Lola thought she’d had since Vegas to rest.
On the other hand, Lola had created another problem for him to fix.
Isla hadn’t answered his calls during his attempts to reach her since Saturday. And now it was Monday.
Though she was probably busy filming.
Or maybe he should have texted her back when she’d texted on Friday night.
But as each second slipped further away, as he’d stared down at his mobile, thumb hovering over the keypad, wondering what to respond, it just seemed easier not to. He needed to tell her about the marriage and be done with it.
They’d get an annulment and put their egregious mistake behind them once and for all.
Yet he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it over the phone. And since he’d called several times without a response, he’d flown here instead.
He’d almost missed his flight from New York City—the meeting with Ipolymer had gone late, and he’d been forced to take the last flight out to Little Rock.
Mason had been at Ipolymer’s headquarters, handling the negotiations directly with Lola, but Aiden had been at Camden Enterprise’s New York offices, just to be on standby.
The grueling negotiations had been just as difficult as Aiden had expected. Just as harried as the last week had been. This was the first break he’d taken.
But the stress of it all was nothing compared to the idea of walking into this pub and facing Isla.
He didn’t need this headache, an attachment that would only make his life more difficult.
But lately, every time he thought about Isla, the thought of her brought a thrill.
And deep down, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d put off telling her about the marriage just to give himself another excuse to see her in person.
Yes, it was mad and irrational, but ever since Vegas, she’d been in his orbit in a way that felt like the only thing he was genuinely interested or excited about.
Dammit.
He was a bloody fool.
Even if she were interested in him—which she wasn’t—Callum was an obstacle. He wouldn’t be happy with the idea of Aiden dating his sister. And he would be even angrier about how things had started and everything Aiden had concealed since.
He sighed, checking his mobile once again as he considered hopping back in the car and leaving.
Mason hadn’t texted since concluding the meeting, and unfortunately, the negotiations were far from over.
They wouldn’t resume for another few days, but Mason had seemed encouraged.
Like progress was finally being made without Aiden at the helm.
In fact, the only time he’d even seen Lola was during that business brunch when the blessed phone call from Isla had come in.
Of all the rotten luck.
The deal was what he needed to be worried about and focusing his attention on.
Not Isla.
He set his hand on the handle of the car.
You owe her the truth.
He swallowed the acrid taste from his mouth, stomach roiling with disgust for himself.
Jumping out of airplanes in the military had been less intimidating than this.
He inhaled, dragging a hand down his face, willing his feet to move. Just open the damn door. Tell her. Walk away.
You’re a grown man, Camden. Stop acting like a coward.
Then—a sudden scuffle. Raised voices. His head snapped up.
Several people stalked out of the pub onto the gravel. The camera crew from the production he recognized...and also Isla.
She rushed out toward a car, Tomas in tow.
“Come on, Isla, you know you’re blowing this completely out of proportion,” Tomas said, reaching for her hand.
Isla yanked her hand from his and turned, face filled with fury. “Am I? Look, maybe this whole thing was a mistake, Tomas. After two years apart, people change. We changed.”
“Isla, you know how much I care about you, baby.” Tomas grabbed her by the shoulders, then kissed her on the mouth. Hard.
A flash of heat shot through Aiden—sharp, unbidden, impossible to control. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
But something inside him coiled tight, a surge of anger that had no place here. No logic. No reason. Because it didn’t matter.
Except it did.
Because Tomas kissed her, and she hadn’t kissed him back. Because Isla had stiffened. Because she’d pulled away.
But why did it feel like Tomas was getting away with something? Like Aiden had just stood back and let someone else take what should have been his?
They’re just acting, right?
The camera was still rolling. It had to be.
A slap rang out, and Aiden jerked his chin up.
Isla was struggling to get away from Tomas, but he held on to her by the shoulders. “Let me go,” she hissed. “I saw you flirting with her?—”
“That meant nothing?—”
“Seriously, Tomas, you’re hurting me. Back off.”
Aiden’s heart lurched. Enough.
Maybe they were acting. Maybe they weren’t.
Aiden was moving before he even registered it.
His hands fisted in Tomas’s shirt, yanking him backward hard enough that his boots scraped across the gravel. Aiden shoved him away, his body coiled, ready for a fight. “Stay the hell away from her.”
“What the—” Tomas landed on the gravel sending a few rocks flying, then lifted his head up, brows raised.
“Aiden.” Isla’s voice was rough with shock. She grabbed him by the elbow as his hands clenched into fists. “It’s fine?—”
“It’s not fine. She said stop,” he said, glowering down at Tomas. “Which means you stop.”
Tomas stood with narrowed eyes and dusted himself off. “Why is he here, Isla?”
“And cut.” Boyd’s voice came through the chilly night air, and he crossed toward them. He offered Aiden a smile. “Sorry, mate, you walked into our shot.”
Aiden’s jaw dropped, his face flushing as he looked from Tomas to Isla. Tomas had his arms crossed, a smirk on his lips.
But Isla? The look of confusion in her eyes was palpable. And she doesn’t look pleased to see me, either.
“What is going on?” She scowled, then flicked her gaze at Boyd, a tired expression on her face. “Do we need to do that take again?”
“No, I think we’ve got enough material to work with.” Boyd smiled broadly. “I think we can call it the martini shot and wrap.”
Tomas laughed and clapped Aiden on the back as though they were more than acquaintances. “You didn’t think that was real, did you?”
No, of course not.
Moron.
“I—” Aiden offered a terse smile. “Sorry about the shove. Are you all right?”
“Fine, fine. Just some dust. Nothing to worry about. Coming in for a drink?” Tomas asked, nodding back toward the pub.
“Maybe,” Aiden offered. He gave a hesitant glance back at Isla, but she’d already started off across the car park, heading for the large van that the crew had been using to transport everyone. Excusing himself, Aiden hurried toward her. “Isla, wait.”
She didn’t slow.
“Isla—”
She turned, her face shadowed by the darkness. “Does Lola know you’re here?”
Lola? He slowed. Just what had she told her?
At his hesitation, she shook her head. “You know what? Forget it. It’s none of my business.
You obviously had plans with your girlfriend this weekend, and I should have understood when you didn’t answer my text on Friday.
I’m not really sure why you’ve bothered coming here at all, Aiden.
We just wrapped, and I’m leaving in the morning.
But swooping in and attacking Tomas while we’re filming? What the hell even was that?”