Chapter 40 Quentin #2
“The set address must have been leaked. Just ignore him.”
“Ignore him? His camera lens is so long it could find Amelia Earhart. He’s probably zoomed so far that he can see my DNA sequence.”
“You get used to it.”
“Used to it? This is what you deal with? This is nuts, absolutely—”
“You think too much,” he said, watching her.
Sadie didn’t even look away from the road. “And you don’t think at all.”
“I think plenty,” Quentin said easily. “Mostly about you, actually.”
“Don’t start.”
“I think about your laugh. A lot. Like, way too much for a normal person. It's so dumb how happy it makes me.”
Sadie shook her head, fighting the smile creeping up.
“And your freckles. You’ve got that one right on the bridge of your nose that shows up when you’re in the sun too long. Drives me crazy. It’s stupid, I know.”
“Quentin—”
“And when you smile,” he said, softer now, “it’s like you’re trying not to. Like you fight it. But then it just… slips out. Like your face remembers you like me before the rest of you does.”
Sadie rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “God, you’re such a sap.”
“Maybe,” he said, one shoulder lifting in an unapologetic shrug. “But you haven’t told me to shut up yet.”
“I’m driving,” she said, voice low but laced with warmth. “And trying to get us out of this flashbulb circus alive.”
Before Quentin could tell her to stay calm, Sadie being Sadie slammed her foot on the gas. The truck rocketed forward, gravel flying as they sped down the narrow dirt road. Quentin grabbed the handle just in time as she whipped around a bend like they were in the next Fast & Furious.
“SLOW DOWN, YOU MANIAC,” he barked, gripping the dashboard.
Sadie barely spared him a glance, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror with a worrying amount of glee. “You think we lost him?”
Quentin exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Considering he wasn’t in his vehicle? Yeah, Sadie, I think we lost him.”
Sadie grinned like she’d just executed the perfect heist getaway. “Damn, I knew I could drive a getaway car.”
Quentin rolled his eyes. “Fantastic. I feel so safe.”
“You should.”
He groaned, slumping back against the seat. “Can you at least stop somewhere so I can get some damn coffee, Bonnie? Clyde needs serious caffeine to deal with these shenanigans.”
“You just called yourself Clyde.” She wiggled her brows. “We’re in too deep now.”
Yeah, he definitely was.
Sadie peeled into the parking lot like she was stealing second base, skidding into the spot and slamming the truck into park with a smug little grin. Quentin exhaled sharply and rubbed his temples.
“You’re never driving me anywhere again,” he muttered, prying his white-knuckled grip off the door handle.
Sadie beamed. “I’m not that bad of a driver.”
Quentin looked at her, pale. “Sadie, I just saw my life flash before my eyes. Twice.”
“Eh, builds character.”
Quentin groaned and yanked his baseball cap lower as they stepped inside. The smell of coffee and pastries hit. He exhaled like it physically soothed his soul.
“One of the biggest, most aggressively caffeinated coffees you’ve got,” he told the barista. “And a shaken espresso for my unhinged companion.”
Sadie preened. “I feel seen.”
The barista blinked, then squinted. “Wait, aren’t you that guy from the movies?”
“I get that a lot,” Quentin said smoothly, sliding his card across the counter.
“I bet,” the barista replied and asked zero follow-up questions.
Quentin turned to Sadie, smug. “See? Not so bad. Fifty-fifty shot of being recognized. My life’s practically normal.”
“Sure. If we just pretend the paparazzi didn’t swarm us fifteen minutes ago.”
He waved a hand. “I called my team about something vaguely related before we left. Should be fine.”
“Vaguely related?”
He wasn’t about to tell her he’d preemptively started damage control for a future he wasn’t even sure she wanted with him.
“Details are for people without publicists.”
Quentin gave his name for the order while Sadie watched a couple by the window. The guy broke off a piece of scone and fed it to the woman, who smiled like she was living in the last five minutes of an indie rom-com.
She sighed dramatically. “God, that’s disgustingly sweet.” Then, with a pout: “Why don’t you ever hand feed me scones? Am I not scone-worthy?”
Quentin looked at her, slow and shameless. “Oh, you’re more than scone-worthy.” Then, to the barista without taking his eyes off her: “I’ll take all your scones.”
Sadie gasped and smacked his arm. “I only need one! Maybe two on a hungry day!”
“We’ll hand them out on set if you don’t finish them,” he said as the barista, with an expression that screamed please seek help, started stuffing a ridiculous number of scones into a massive paper bag.
As they waited for their drinks, he glanced down at her, then without a second thought wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Her warmth settled against him instantly, and instead of pushing him away with a sarcastic remark, she melted into it.
“You want some candied almonds too?” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. “I saw you eyeing them.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Quentin smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “Alright. Just say the word.”
Sadie tilted her head up, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’d really buy me overpriced fairground almonds?”
Quentin smirked, tightening his hold on her. “Sadie, I just bought you half the pastry case. I’d buy you anything.”
She grinned, rising on her toes to press a quick, warm kiss to his jaw. “God, I love being spoiled.”
Quentin hummed, his hand sliding down to rest on her lower back as he leaned in closer. “I’d give you the moon and the stars if you let me.”
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her smile slow. “Tempting,” she murmured.
“Anita Ramming!” the barista called as he set the drinks down. Sadie froze. Her head snapped toward Quentin, who was already wearing the world’s smuggest grin.
A strangled sound left her throat as she doubled over, laughing. “You—” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “You just publicly humiliated that poor barista!”
Unbothered, Quentin pulled out a crisp hundred and dropped it in the tip jar.
The barista stared. “Wow. Thanks, Anita.”
“Better?”
She gave the tip jar a nod of approval. “Much.”
They grabbed their drinks, his arm settling back around her waist.
“Sadie? Quentin?”
Quentin’s head whipped around like he’d been caught stealing. Behind them was Avery snuggled up in Reggie’s arms like they’d been welded together. Reggie? That’s who Avery was seeing?
Quentin’s arm stayed firmly around Sadie. Sadie didn’t pull away either. She leaned into him just enough to make it clear she was staying put, and his pulse kicked up like it had been holding out hope all along.
Avery’s brows shot up as she took them in. Her gaze ping-ponged from Quentin’s arm around Sadie to his face, then back to the arm. A sly smile curled on her lips.
“Well. Guess you figured out her deal.”
Quentin opened his mouth to respond, but what came out was something between a cough and a protest.
Reggie, blessedly oblivious, grinned. “Hey, looks like we both found someone! That’s awesome!”
“We did,” Sadie said, breezy and bright.
We did? Did she just soft-launch their relationship in front of Avery and Reggie? Was this an official thing now? Was he supposed to say something back?
Then, just to absolutely ruin him, she tipped her head up and looked at him with a soft, certain smile that said she meant it, that she was choosing him, right here, right now. His grip tightened instinctively, like his body was trying to save face for the mess his mind had become.
Avery raised a perfectly judgmental eyebrow, sipping her iced coffee like it was tea.
Quentin cleared his throat, scrambling for something casual, something normal to say, but all that came out was—
“So. Uh. You guys want a scone?”