“Because I date uncomplicated women, and you, Getaway Girl, do not strike me as one.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. I was complicated, but then what woman wasn’t?
“Huh. I didn’t realize uncomplicated women even existed. Good for you, finding them under those rocks.”
“They’re not that hard to find if you know where to look.”
“High school?”
Quinn puffed out a laugh. “Whoa, let me stop you right there, Buckaroo.”
Buckaroo? I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed with his 1940’s vocabulary or irritated. Any guy who used that type of language around a woman clearly wasn’t trying to woo.
“What I meant was, I don’t date women with a past,” he clarified. “I have what I like to refer to as a tragedy barometer. Any woman with a history more devastating than, say, flushing her pet fish down the toilet is a no go for me.”
My eyes widened at the news of his utter shallowness. “Wait—so what you’re saying is because I flushed Ms. Bubbles down the toilet eighteen years ago, I’m not a contender for your affections? Am I hearing you correctly, dickhead?”
“Damn, right to the insults,” he noted playfully. “No, you’re still a contender… I mean as long as Ms. Bubbles wasn’t followed down the shitter by your aunt May.”
I blinked, shocked. “Your policy is seriously flawed, Quinn.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“Because the perfect woman doesn’t exist,” I said, raising my voice to punctuate my point.
“I didn’t say perfect. I said uncomplicated.” He slid back up in his seat, taking in my irritated face. “Wait, are you offended?”
I expelled some weird whooshing gust of air to show just how ridiculous his question was. “Of course not.”
“Then why are your nostrils flaring?”
“I’m not offended for myself,” I explained. “I’m offended for womankind.”
“Ah.” He smirked. “Good for you. Taking one for the team. So commendable.”
Oh, my god. What a dick. I fought the urge to reach out and smack him for no other reason than his shitty policy excluded me from the running.
“Actually, you know what, Prince Gaston?” I raised a hand to stop him. “You’re right. You deserve a fun, bubbly, uncomplicated woman. In fact, let me be the first to congratulate you and Hannah Montana on a super happy life together.”
Quinn gave a hearty laugh at that one, eyeing me with interest before replying, “Thank you.”
I grumbled something incoherent—à la Vern—and silently chastised myself for being so rankled by this guy.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “So, where do you want to go?”
Without skipping a beat, Quinn sent his finger soaring through the skies. “To the stars and back.”
And just like that, he was back in charge.
“No,” I said, fighting off a smile. “I meant inthisuniverse.”
“Oh, sorry. I misunderstood. You’ll have to give me extra time to think.”
“You’ve had plenty of time. How about I give you thirty seconds to decide before dumping your ass on the side of the road?”
“Okay, well, first—I don’t do anything in thirty seconds,” he said, raising a brow and leaving me with no question as to what he meant by that suggestive statement. “And second—I can’t formulate a plan that fast, so I guess you’ll just have to drop me off on the side of the road.”
I cast him a sidelong glance. “Seriously?”
