Page 17 of Playboy For Hire

Quinn’s eyebrows drew down. “So being gay is the same thing as being a murderer?”

“What? No, no, that’s not what I meant at all.”

I waved my hands frantically, then realized I looked like a buffoon and stopped. Only now my hands felt awkward and heavy as they hung at my sides, and I’d never realized before just how weird it was that we have these appendages that just flop down from our bodies like piñatas full of meat and bones. But that thought just got me thinking about other meaty appendagesthat hung from the human body and oh, God, I was only making this worse.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” I said quickly. “I swear. I just meant—God, I don’t even know what I meant. Just forget I said anything. I was just stream-of-consciousness talking. Usually I’m much smoother than this. I promise I’ll be normal on Friday. I must just feel comfortable around you.”

“Does being comfortable around people usually lead you to be homophobic?”

“Oh, God, I hope not. Can you imagine if it did? What an awful curse that would be. I mean, I can think of worse curses, in the great scheme of things, like causing war or pestilence, but—”

“Are you trying to make things better or worse right now?” Quinn asked.

I looked at him helplessly, and after a minute, his serious face broke into laughter. It wasn’t quite as warm as his earlier laughs had been, but at least he didn’t look like he was considering telling me to go fuck myself anymore.

“I don’t even know.” I held my floppy meat hands out in surrender. “I think maybe I should be disbarred from talking for the rest of the day, or possibly my life.”

He snorted. “Well, I’ve been there before. Maybe not your whole life. Maybe just a couple of decades.”

“Thank you for your leniency, your honor.”

“Okay, I’m going to go before you can say anything else ridiculous.”

“That’s probably for the best.” I gave him an earnest, hopeful smile, and was surprised to realize I meant it. “I’ll see you Friday?”

He laughed again, and it was warmer this time. “See you Friday. For better or for worse.”

4

QUINN

Ismoothed my tie over and over as I waited for Ryder at the top of the metro escalator. It was chilly tonight—February had remembered what season it was a part of—and I was glad I’d chosen to wear a wool blazer over my dress shirt and trousers.

Auntie Thea had told me I looked too much like a lawyer in my full suit. I’d reminded her that Iwasa lawyer, but she’d tartly informed me that I was going to a party, not a job interview, and that I needed to ‘jazz it up a little.’

I wasn’t sure if my green wool blazer counted as jazzy, but at least I had some color on me. I’d forgotten a tie clip, though, and the wind kept trying to strangle me with my own neckwear.

I told myself for the millionth time not to be nervous, that everything would be fine. No one would even be paying attention to me today. The focus would be on Grandad and Nana. And I trusted Ryder…or at least, I thought I did. But for the million-and-first time, I braced for something to go wrong.

I still shuddered when I remembered the humiliation of our meeting on Tuesday. I’d seen Ryder sitting in the corner there and actually gotten excited for a moment. The guy was hot. Younger than I was, but he didn’t have a baby face.

No, his face was classic ‘J.Crew catalog white guy.’ Light brown hair fell into his gray eyes with careless grace. His cheekbones said, ‘See you at the yacht club.’ His jaw was covered in a seven-day stubble. And his lips were way too pink and plump to belong to a straight guy, if there were any justice in the world.

He’d looked up at me and smiled, his face warm and inviting, and I’d thought, ‘Oh, maybe this wasn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had.” Right up until he’d opened his mouth, that was.

He’d managed to convince me that tonight would be okay. That he’d be a great fake boyfriend, or at least a passable one. That he could handle pretending to be queer for one night.

But maybe I’d just let myself believe that because he was so damn hot. Way too hot to be interested in me in real life. Maybe I’d just wanted to pretend for one night that someone like that could want someone like me.

“Quinn?”

I looked up to see Ryder come off the top of the escalator, and my mouth actually went dry. Ryder on Tuesday had been hot in a businessy way. Tonight, he looked absolutely mouth-watering. And yeah, I know I just said he made my mouth go dry but listen, he was so stunning he was short-circuiting my brain. I was allowed to mix metaphors under the circumstances.

He was wearing a navy wool suit, with the subtlest hints of black watch plaid showing in the light of the street lamps. He had no tie at all, and his crisp white shirt was unbuttoned just enoughfor a touch of insouciance. He’d clearly made an attempt to part his hair, but the wind had sculpted it into something wilder and it was unfairly attractive.

“Hey,” I said when my voice started working again. “You look goo—I mean, good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

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