26. Isla
ISLA
PARIS, TENNESSEE
As a parade of classic cars rumbled down the road, Isla scooted closer to Kyle on the picnic table bench, grinning at Tomas, who watched the cars with excitement in his eyes. This he didn’t have to fake for the cameras. Ever since she’d known him, he’d loved classic cars, especially American ones.
“So, apparently, springtime is definitely the right time to come do a tour of Parises in the States, at least,” Isla said with a grin to Tomas. She licked the barbecue sauce from her fingers. “I have a feeling we’re going to the car show,” she told Kyle.
“We are definitely going to the classic car show,” Tomas said with an emphatic nod as he took a swig from his Pepsi.
“And cut, that’s perfect,” Boyd said from behind them. He approached with the camera crew. “How lucky was that shot?”
Isla elbowed Kyle. “Hand me a napkin, will you? I feel like I’m covered in barbecue sauce.”
Kyle laughed and handed her a stack. “I think it’s on your nose.”
She tossed him a mock glare. “Don’t make fun of me. It was your idea to eat barbecue for this part.”
Boyd dropped into the seat beside Tomas and reached for a French fry from the tray in the center of the table.
Whatever foul mood he’d been in last weekend had vanished.
It helped that the festival they were attending in Paris, Tennessee, was a bigger affair, though.
The World’s Biggest Fish Fry was a weeklong event, with daily happenings including a large carnival, rodeo, demolition derby, and bike and car show, among other things—not to mention lots and lots of fried catfish.
Isla wrinkled her nose at the thought. She hated catfish.
“So, what’s the plan?” Tomas asked, rolling his shoulders back.
“Lunch for the crew, then we move to the car show. Today probably won’t be too long of a day. Tomorrow, we’ll do a bit more on the square, then do the carnival and rodeo at night. Monday’s the country dance.”
“Holy crap,” Kyle breathed. He still wore athletic gear, having participated in the town’s Hushpuppy 5K in the morning. “This Paris doesn’t let up with the activities.”
“It’s because of the fish fry,” Davy said, setting her clipboard on the table as she sat beside Isla. “Which is also why we’re having to stay a few towns over.”
“Speaking of accommodations, will Aiden be joining you tonight?” Tomas asked Isla with a smirk.
Boyd’s gaze flicked between them intently.
A flutter of nerves crept up her belly. “Not tonight,” she said with a breezy smile. “But maybe tomorrow.”
At least, that was what Aiden had said. He’d promised, actually, to be here today when they’d last seen each other in Nashville—but he’d called her after she’d arrived at the hotel the night before and told her the negotiations for his deal had run long and would be continuing today.
Which meant he’d had to delay his flight out of New York, and he’d be here tomorrow.
She hoped.
This time had been different. They’d texted often and called each other a few times. Almost like a real relationship.
Her fingers curled around her phone in her lap. No new messages. He said he’d be here today. He promised.
She forced herself to set it aside before anyone noticed.
But it bothered her that he wasn’t here when he’d said he would be. Deeply. Maybe it wouldn’t if it hadn’t been the first time they’d planned to get together since making things more out in the open. But it was the first time, and he was already pushing plans off with her for work.
Any awkwardness she might have felt in discussing Aiden with Tomas, though, quickly vanished as he reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to him overreacting while watching our scenes again.”
Scoundrel. She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand back.
He was a shameless flirt, really. Maybe she’d never realized it before, but now, without the cloud of attraction hanging over her, or the easy forgiveness that came with dating, Tomas’s flaws were easier to spot.
“Oh stop,” she said. “You didn’t have to take the scene that far, either.
We might be adding some personal drama to the show, but it’s not suddenly the Real Housewives of Paris. ”
Boyd laughed. “Maybe we should reframe it that way in editing. I cut the first episode this week, and Antony really loved the personal segments. He wants more of those.”
“What he loves is Isla and Tomas.” Davy leaned over and looked at Kyle. “You too, Kyle. He thinks the dynamic between the three of you is fantastic. And he’s interested in having you shoot more travel shows for us like this.”
Isla tore her gaze from her friend. Davy knew she’d only done this as a one-time favor. That she couldn’t continue taking time away from La Hacienda to pursue this.
Is she really suggesting I keep doing this?
“I’d be game,” Tomas said with a broad smile.
Of course you would be. His entire personality seemed to exist to annoy her right now. But she was also being hard on him. If she was still acting, a steady work opportunity like this would have been thrilling.
“Wouldn’t that be fun?” she said noncommittally.
“I have loads of ideas for other places we could do a series out of, like Paris,” Davy gushed, either oblivious or ignoring the lack of enthusiasm in Isla’s tone. “Do you think you would be interested, Kyle?”
He laughed, then flicked a cautious look at Isla. “I don’t really know if I’m much of an actor. Or influencer, reality TV guy—whatever this is. But, sure, why not? Could be dope.”
Isla’s lips pursed, and she wished she had the telepathic ability to tell Kyle no, not you, too.
“One step at a time. We have to see how this one is received. We premier in three weeks, and Antony upped the spending on advertising,” Boyd said, then stretched back in his seat and stood.
“But I think it’s going to be brilliant.
I have a good feeling about it.” He winked at Isla, then moved away toward the rest of the crew.
“So, Aiden really is coming this weekend?” Davy asked with obvious interest. She leaned closer to Isla. “I thought you said it was nothing.”
Because it was nothing. When Davy and she had talked before Isla and Aiden had left for Nashville, it had been nothing.
But now he’d promised to be here. For her. For them.
“We’re just talking at this point,” Isla said with a shrug even though a wave of guilt went through her. If Tomas weren’t here, maybe she could be more open about it.
Then again, hadn’t she told Aiden that she was tired of being treated like a secret? That they had nothing to hide or be ashamed of?
“Just hooking up with a billionaire?” Tomas said with a gleam in his eyes. “Sounds like you’re moving up in the world, Isla.”
The way he said it made her whole relationship with Aiden feel cheap. Dirty.
She shot him a sharp look. “What’s it to you, Tomas?”
“Nothing at all.” He lowered his sunglasses and shrugged. “I think it’s great. What does Callum think of it? They’re best friends, aren’t they? I remember you dragged me to the Camdens’ enormous estate for Boxing Day a few years ago.”
Dragged. She shook her head, irritated with his comment for more than one reason.
“It’s none of his business. Or yours.” She stood and lifted the tray of food.
With as much gracefulness as she could muster climbing over the bench, she moved away and found a nearby trash can.
The contents of the tray slid into the trash with a thunk, then she banged the tray on the pile on top of the trash can with more force than she’d intended.
Dammit.
She shouldn’t let Tomas get under her skin. He set her teeth on edge, though, and it didn’t help that she was already feeling insecure about this whole thing with Aiden. But then mentioning Callum was even worse because she still hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell him anything.
Instead, she’d been ignoring his phone calls. Barely responding to his texts.
Dreading that Quinn might tell him first—or someone else would—all while trying to figure out the best way to tell him that wouldn’t make him feel like he’d been the last person to find out.
Which, considering the number of people who knew now, he might end up being.
She’d asked Aiden to allow her to be the one to tell him, both because it would probably come better from her but also because she owed him the conversation.
He was her brother. And she hated the fact that Aiden was already having issues with Quinn and Mason because of her.
Of course, she was angrier with Quinn for punching Aiden and kicking him out, but that didn’t keep her from feeling like all of this was her fault.
Even Aiden hadn’t been sure if being with her was worth this trouble.
But she had pushed.
Isla fanned her burning face with her hand, then started away, heading down the sidewalk that framed the main square of Paris, Tennessee.
The whole town screamed small town but not in the way the other ones had.
This one was bigger, with more boutiques and a larger population.
Ironically, the Eiffel Tower here also seemed to reflect that.
At seventy feet, it was larger than the other two had been and a true-to-scale replica.
Kinda funny how the various Eiffel Towers all seemed to match the towns like that.
She was grateful for the larger square right now, though, because she needed some space.
Tomas, however, didn’t seem to get the hint. “Isla.” His voice rang out behind her.
She sighed, considering just walking faster—but they still had to work together. Act like a couple. Thanks, Callum.
Tomas jogged to catch up with her, and for a split second, she caught sight of the guy she’d had a thing for. His smile. His energy. And, of course, he was easy on the eyes.
Yet. .. nothing. She’d moved on so completely that the image was gone in a flash.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Tomas said as he slowed and stopped in front of her.
She raised a brow. “About what?”