Page 81 of One Time in Paris
“I love them, but I’m not a fucking family secret,” she muttered. “They don’t get to decide what I do with my life.”
Aiden traced a thumb along her cheekbone. “No, they don’t.”
“Good,” she said, standing straighter. “Yet somehow, here we are. With everyone weighing in about what we’re doing like it’s their business.”
“You’re right. They shouldn’t have a say.”
She lifted her chin. “Then stop letting them.”
He stared at her for one long, hard moment.
How had he reached this point? He’d relished his independence as a youth. In being the one who was different from the rest.
Until it had bitten him in the arse, and he’d found himself alone and the outcast of his family.
But what had trying to work his way back into their good graces gotten him? A miserable existence and an eighty-hour workweek.
And it had almost cost him Isla.
He exhaled slowly. “Done.”
Something shifted in her eyes. Like he’d passed a test he hadn’t even known he’d been taking. Maybe she didn’t even know it’d been one. But the look in her eyes was a mixture of relief. . .andwant.Happiness.
“I don’t care what any of them think,” Aiden said, then dropped a kiss to her lips. Although he wasn’t sure exactly how or when it happened, Isla Scott had become everything he wanted. He couldn’t imagine going another moment without claiming her.
I can’t frame my answers around what Callum thinks either.“Even Callum. Fuck it. I want you, Isla. And I don’t care who or what it costs me.”
She slid her arms around his neck, then kissed him, eyes closing tightly. He returned her kiss, which was warm and sweet, filled with unfulfilled longing. Then he pulled away and traced his fingertips gently against her jaw. “I’m going to New York for a few days as I have a business deal I have to work on. I’d invite you, but I won’t really be around to spend time with you. But the show goes to Paris, Tennessee this weekend, right?”
Isla nodded, giving him a curious look.
“Then I’ll be there. Wherever you are, Isla. I’ll be there.”
26
ISLA
PARIS, TENNESSEE
As a paradeof 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 wasyouridea 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.
