Page 51 of One Time in Paris
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.
