“I do.” He chuckled. “One of my many party tricks.”
“I thought you didn’t party.”
“I don’t; hence the reason my party tricks involve math.”
He was just so perfectly witty. I could barely wait for more.
“Okay, well, let me know if I can do anything to speed this along because I have a very low patience threshold.”
“I can see that. If you want, I can come out now—naked.”
I perked right up. “Like completely?”
“Damn near.”
“Hell, yeah. Bring it on. Naked guys don’t scare me.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never showered in a guy’s locker room.”
Quinn took a quick surveillance of the area, no doubt to confirm we were alone, before the passenger side door swung open and he unexpectedly backed out of the vehicle shirtless and with his naked bum visible just above the waistband of the jeans. Obviously, he’d been trying to pull them up over his hips when I’d interrupted.
My eyes. I couldn’t control them if I tried. This was sensory overload at its finest.
“Oh, shit,” my muscled Adonis cursed as gravity took hold, slipping those jeans of his further down his muscular legs and revealing ever more of that noteworthy ass. Quinn grappled with the waistband before yanking them back up.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said.
“No worries, I enjoyed it.”
Quinn again scanned the perimeter, confirming he wasn’t about to be collared for indecent exposure. It occurred to me then that he wasn’t a risk taker, which made what he’d done on stage today all the more significant. “Yeah, you weren’t who I was worried about.”
Once he was all tucked back in, Quinn turned to face me, shirtless and in a pair of faded jeans that looked to have been conceived on his body. I full-on dry gulped, that was how thirsty he made me. But the reverse strip tease wasn’t over yet, and as Quinn pulled a jersey-knit t-shirt over his head, I watched in hushed anticipation as the material fell into place, expertly clinging to every muscle in his broad, sculpted chest as if it were just happy to be of service.
As was I.
“Better?” he asked.
Most would be hard-pressed to improve on perfection, but not Quinn. He’d done it effortlessly. Of course, he did havea lotto work with. See, Quinn was the type of handsome that carried over from childhood. There had been no awkward stage for him. No embarrassing middle school photos. This guy had come out of the womb a fully formed flower.
Thank you. Thank you, Old Jess. You made the right decision.
“The best.”
* * *
Two things became abundantly clear the moment Quinn was released onto the public. First, he attracted a lot of attention. As soon as we arrived at the clubhouse to buy a round of mini-golf, people were staring… and whispering and giggling. I wasn’t the only one to see star quality in this guy.
The second thing I realized was that despite knowing everything there was to know about established Hollywood celebrities on my route, I was woefully behind the times when it came to new talent and pop culture. Had I been more up to date, I would’ve recognized Quinn as a contestant on a popular reality show, like apparently everyone else did.
“Are you”—the clubhouse girl jumped in place—“onNext in Line?”
Quinn didn’t hesitate to engage, answering the questions coming his way with endearing responses. He was enjoying this. For a guy still making his way up the ladder of success, he sure seemed comfortable dealing with fans. I had to say, it was fun to watch someone on the cusp of stardom actually appreciating the windfall rather than the jaded celebrities I typically covered on my tours.
“How come you’re here and not on the show?”
Quinn looked my way, the two of us exchanging a knowing nod. It was clear by the reaction of the crowd that the news hadn’t yet hit the social media wires, and probably wouldn’t until it first aired on the East Coast a couple of hours from now.
“It was filmed earlier,” Quinn answered before switching the focus. “Are you going to watch tonight?”
