Page 36 of Playboy For Hire

“No, the literal edge of the world. I want to find it. And if I had my own yacht and crew, I really could.”

I stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

“I know, I know, you’ve probably got alarm bells going off in your head right now, don’t you?” Joe said.

I laughed weakly. “I mean, I can’t say that’s something I hear every day.”

“I get it. I used to be the same way. I thought people who believed in conspiracy theories were completely nuts. But then I saw this video on YouTube one day—completely by accident, it was almost like divine intervention—and it changed my life. Everyone thinks flat-earthers are crazy, but we’re just asking questions, you know? The government wants us to believe certain lies because the foundation of our country was built on them, and they want to keep us complacent. And who knows, maybe I’m wrong, I’m willing to be wrong—but I’m not the type to just believe what someone else tells me. And there are so many reasons to be suspicious of the round-earth theory. Imean, for starters, why would they call it ‘sealevel’ if the earth is round?”

“I’m not sure—” I began, but he barreled onwards.

“Think about it. You can test this stuff at home. If the earth is curved, why is the water in your bathtub flat when you fill it? Why is the water in a pot on the stove level?”

“I think that’s because they’re not really big enough to—”

But it was no use. He wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. I just sat and listened, stunned. Not only was this guy arrogant and materialist, but he was a flat-earther too? God, this would be the kind of thing that happened to me. I was almost surprised it hadn’t before.

I wondered if he brought up his theories on all his dates. Did he get a lot of second ones, after mentioning it on the first? Oh, God. I didn’t get a lot of second dates either. Was I as annoying and weird as Joe?

Shit. Maybe that was why he was coming on so strong. Maybe he was trying to get me to like him, because he didn’t think he’d have a shot otherwise. Or maybe he thought I was too desperatenotto go home with him.

Which I’d already agreed to do.

Fuck. I needed a way out. And suddenly, an idea occurred to me.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted. Joe was in the middle of a rant about how we couldn’t trust the government, so we needed to abolish the Department of Education. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“No worries. Take your time. I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

I hadn’t been worried until he’d said that, but now I felt like he was going to do something strange to my coat. But that was fine. I had my phone in my pocket, which was all I really needed.

I hurried through the tangle of rooms and heaved a huge sigh of relief once I was safely ensconced in the bathroom. This wasn’t an ideal situation. And it was definitely going to require me to grovel. But I was more than happy to do that, if it got me out of this date from hell.

I just had to hope Ryder was free.

7

RYDER

“What’s up with you tonight?”

I looked up from my beer—an ESB, since I didn’t want to get too tipsy—and frowned at Tessa.

“What?”

She poked my arm with her index finger. “You’ve been quiet all night. It’s not like you.”

She was right, but I didn’t want to talk about it.

Tessa was a regular client of mine, and every Thursday night, we met up with her coworkers at trivia night at Bart’s Basement. Most of them were guys, all of them were Hill staffers, and Tessa joined in to keep up with gossip and networking. For the past seven months, I’d been posing as her boyfriend—ever since she realized that ‘having a boyfriend’ meant her male coworkers would stop trying to sleep with her and treat her as a friend instead.

I was wearing an untucked button-up shirt over khakis tonight, sleeves rolled up. Business casual with easy-going-boyfriendmixed in. I actually liked her coworkers—some of them had even become sort-of friends of mine as well. The story was that I worked for an agricultural lobbying firm, but I was mostly recycling knowledge I’d picked up from helping my parents on their farm growing up.

To be honest, I hardly thought of Tessa as a client anymore. We’d gotten to know each other well enough at this point that she’d become a regular friend. And usually, I liked trivia night. I was great at pop culture, sports, and all kinds of random facts that were useless in any other context. But tonight, I couldn’t get Quinn out of my head.

“Sorry,” I told Tessa apologetically. “Just thinking about a work thing.”

---