Chapter 6
I glance up from my spot at the copy machine. I’ve lost count of how many times my gaze has collided with Nate’s across the office. A feeling of unbridled want accompanies every heated stare. I try not to feel it.
Oh, but I feel it.
I carry the weight of that tension everywhere I go.
My eyes drop, hoping for relief from his force, knowing none will come when he’s this close to me.
The copy machine beeps, causing me to jump.
It’s out of paper. How cliché.
Slowly, I head toward the supply closet, focusing straight ahead. I don’t think I can bear another heated glance. As I pass by Nate, his fingers brush against mine in the most subtle, inconspicuous way, but the effect his touch has on my body is monumental.
I hide in the darkness of the supply closet, resting my hands against a shelf. I need a moment to recover from the warmth of the hand brush and how it lit me on fire from the inside out.
The door opens and closes behind me.
I turn around, and Nate is already upon me.
“Did anyone see you?”
“Shh.” His finger brushes my lips seductively. “We’re finally alone.”
Alone. The idea is thrilling.
A flush of attraction dances on every heartbeat as our chests press together. His hand lifts, and I watch with anticipation as he smooths a stray piece of my hair away from my face. Seamlessly, his fingers move to my neck, tangling into my hair. I loll my head back, aligning my lips with his. I’m hoping for a kiss. Wanting a kiss.
“If anyone were to find out ? —”
“They won’t,” he stops me with his promise.
I grasp at his shoulder blades.
“I’ve been watching you all day, trying not to feel it,” he whispers between us.
“I’ve been watching you too. Dreaming of us…like this.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
His lips press over mine.
Short. Quick. Hot.
“You hate me.” There’s a seductiveness behind his voice that wrecks me.
“I hate you.” I press my lips to his again.
He pulls back. “You don’t want this.”
“Neither do you.” My words are breathy and tortured.
“I want it. I want you.”
My chin lifts, tilting my mouth toward his, and just like I hoped, he skids his lips across my mouth.
It’s slow at first—a testing of the chemistry between us. But each movement builds upon another. His fingers clutch my hair. His hand squeezes my waist. His mouth slants open. I respond as the passion builds.
Everything turns frenzied and hot as we cling to each other. Our bodies slam into the shelf, knocking a few supplies to the ground in a mayhem of heat.
“Shh,” he mumbles against my lips. “No one can know.”
That one sentence makes everything even more desirable.
There’s so much bubbling between us; my body hums with excitement.
Buzzing with intensity.
Vibrating with…
It’s my phone.
I’m aware enough to know the vibration is coming from my phone.
I peek an eye open, barely registering that it’s the middle of the night.
Befuddled, I squint at the clock as I reach for my device.
12:07 a.m.
“Hello?” I croak, holding the phone to my ear.
“Hey, sleepy head.”
A deep V forms between my closed eyes. That sounded a lot like Nate.
The more awake I become, the more pieces rapidly fit together in my mind.
“Dreaming about me?”
I fly up to a sitting position, more awake than ever. “What? No! Gross!”
My heart pounds so loudly I’m afraid he’ll hear it through the phone and know I’m lying.
I just had a dream about Nate Farnsworth.
And I liked it—if my menopause-level hot flash is any indicator.
“It’s okay if you dream about me.” I can picture the exact smirky smile that’s probably covering his mouth this second. “I have that effect on women.”
“Why are you calling me at midnight?” I snap, angrier at myself than him.
“That hotel you got me in Fiji the other night was a real dump. I know you did that on purpose.”
“Please tell me you didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night to complain about hotel accommodations you couldn’t make for yourself.”
“No, I just wanted to throw that out there before diving into the real issue.”
I gaze at the dark ceiling, summoning patience. “What now?”
“We have a problem. All the event swag for Sassy Scrapbooking is stuck in customs. The guests arrive tomorrow, expecting welcome bags full of t-shirts, lanyards, and water bottles, but none are here.”
“ We don’t have a problem. You have a problem.”
“No, I think it’s a we thing.”
“I’m not in New Zealand. You kicked me off the trip, remember?”
“I did not kick you off the trip.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t, but can we get back to customs?”
“There’s nothing I can do across the world. You’re on site. Call the customs department or drive over there and figure it out.”
“I can’t. The hotel messed up all the room assignments, so I’m figuring that out. Then, I need to put the rice bags in all the backpacks for the rucking trip tomorrow.”
A hint of satisfaction sweeps through me. “Gee, I wish I could help, but I’m so far away. Too bad you decided to run this trip with a skeleton staff.”
“I’ll let your gloating pass this one time because I need your help.”
“Nate, imagine being an adult and figuring things out for yourself.”
“Imagine wanting to be in charge of everything then not taking charge.”
“Goodbye, Nate!”
“Okay, okay! Carly, wait.” He flips into charming mode. “I’m sorry. I really do need your help, and you’re the best at helping people. And the smartest. And the most organized. And I love your checklists.”
“Your flattery doesn’t work on me. There’s nothing I can do from an ocean away. I suggest you hurry and call customs before they close for the night.”
“Brutal response.” When I don’t say anything back, he relents. “Fine. I’m on it.”
“Goodbye, Nate.”
“Sweet dreams, Carly,” he says just before ending the call.
I fall back onto my pillow, throwing my arms over my face.
My dreams were already a little too sweet.
I blame Taryn for this. She planted supply closet seeds into my head, and my imagination ran wild with it.
Wild, I tell you.
My heart ticks faster just thinking about his hands on my body and his lips tugging against mine.
Here comes the hot flash again.
I fly out of bed, deciding to cool off with a glass of water. I gulp down the liquid in a series of chugs.
Dreams aren’t real life , I tell myself as I look in the bathroom mirror.
In real life, I’d never let Nate touch me like that.
Let alone enjoy it.