Chapter 11
The Pureskin farewell dinner is supposed to be a whiteout beach party on the shores of Phuket. The theme makes my job so much easier.
White linens.
White flowers.
White centerpieces.
White couches and pillows.
White sheer canopy teepees and lights strung overhead.
Done.
Another item I can easily cross off—thank goodness, because the trip is in two weeks. I glance at my checklist to see what else needs my attention, but a notification on my phone distracts me, and I pounce on my device. Disappointment falls over me when I see it’s just a random push notification, not something from Mr. International.
I keep replaying last night’s correspondence in my mind.
I’m using the word correspondence as if I can somehow trick my heart into thinking these messages mean nothing.
Just two pen pals exchanging words. Or a movie night.
Nothing more.
Who am I kidding? I’ve got it bad for Mr. International. Just thinking about him makes me giddy. I push my feet against the ground, sending my desk chair whirling around, the walls of my cubicle spinning as I go.
“And you call me a child? I’m not the one twirling at work.”
I stop the motion as soon as I see Nate. “I was spinning.”
Straightening, I glare up at him, trying not to notice how good he looks with his hands in his pockets, rolled sleeves, and the top button of his shirt undone. Instead, I’m choosing to focus on how he interrupted my daydream.
His dark brows lift. “Hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“Because I took a two-second break to spin my chair around? I’ve seen you play a soccer game on the conference table, using a wad of paper for the ball and pencil holders for the goal.”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs easily. “It was the office World Cup.”
My eyes roll as I wheel myself back to my desk. “Thanks for stopping by. You can leave now.”
I set my phone face down next to my computer. The last thing I need is for Nate to see a notification pop up from my pen pal.
“The embroidery place called. The swag is ready to be picked up. They also have the samples ready for us.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, so let’s go.”
I blink back at him. “Why would I go?”
“To look at the samples.”
“Nope. You told me last week that you wanted to oversee swag.”
“So?”
“So you’re the one that needs to look at the samples.”
“I want you to come help pick them out.”
“Let me get this straight.” I lean back into my chair, folding my arms across my chest. “You want to be in charge of swag, but you also want me to drop everything I’m doing to help you be in charge of swag?”
“That’s not quite how I would put it.” He tilts his head, pausing. “But sure.”
“Sorry, but I can’t take on any extra work right now just to help ease your workload. Thanks for thinking of me, though.” I face my computer again and start typing like I’ve moved on.
“Extra work? What are you talking about? This is part of your job.”
“No, it’s part of your job.”
“It’s Friday afternoon after a long week. Who doesn’t want to leave the office for a little bit?”
I shoot him a quick, thin-lined smile. “People who actually need to get work done.”
“Carly?” He grabs the side of my chair, forcing a half-turn so I’m facing him.
His hands go to the armrests, and his body hunches over so his face is close, his eyes in line with mine.
Holy Hannah!
He’s never been this close.
Visions of Nate and me in the supply closet, knocking things over, jump to the front of my mind. I’m suddenly very much annoyed by my ability to recall things easily.
“What?” I bark, keenly aware of my overzealous heartbeats.
“Please come with me to help pick out the stuff for the room drops.” For the first time in probably ever, Nate seems genuine. Man, he can be cute when he’s serious. “This event is really important to me, and I’d love a second opinion, especially a female one.”
The truth is, I’d love to get out of the office a little early. I’ve pulled a lot of extra hours this week trying to get the Thailand trip ready on such short notice. It’s a sunny day. I can drive with the windows down, hang my arm out the side as the wind blows my hair back, and listen to my favorite songs.
“Fine, I’ll go. But only to make sure you don’t choose something stupid, like a fidget toy, for the executives of a multimillion-dollar company.”
“I’d never choose a fidget.” The corner of his mouth lifts as he backs away from my chair, causing me to breathe easier. “But a slap bracelet, I make no guarantees.”
I grab my purse just to hide my smile. The last thing I want is for Nate’s ego to get a boost from me. It’s already big enough.
We walk to the elevator together and step inside. I push the button to the parking garage and step back. Nate pushes the same button, provoking my annoyance, but I suck in a deep breath and let it slide.
He uses the elevator ride to check his phone, so I do the same.
No new messages from Mr. International. He’s probably busy at work. If only I knew what he did for a living.
The doors slide open, and I walk toward my car. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Why don’t we just go together?”
Lines slowly form across my forehead. “You want to go together?”
“Yeah, to save gas.”
“I’m not worried about the gas. I’ll just meet you there.”
“Come on.” Nate walks to his truck as if the decision has been made. “We need the truck for the boxes of t-shirts, hats, and beach towels already done.”
I glance around the parking garage while I debate if I want to be trapped in a twenty-minute car ride to Mesa with him for no reason when I can easily drive myself.
“Carly?” His voice startles me. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not sure why we need to go together,” I mumble as I trudge toward his truck.
I half expect his car to be a mess, just like his desk at work, but it’s shockingly pristine. I guess Goldfish crumbs and old boxes of Happy Meals don’t fit with a single man in his late twenties.
Once out of the dark parking garage, Nate reaches for his glasses in the console.
Ugh.
Of course he looks incredible in black-rimmed sunglasses. They somehow accentuate his strong jawline and perfectly angular nose. Casually, he rests his elbow against the door while the other hand steers. My eyes travel up his arm, tracking his masculine veins until they slip under his rolled sleeve. I can only imagine all the other manly things under that shirt. Biceps, triceps, and shoulders. Oh my!
“So this is what it feels like to get undressed by someone’s eyes.” His sideways smirk is entirely obnoxious and warranted.
My head turns, shielding my blush from his gaze just in case he can see it through his tinted lenses. “I’ll take things that never happened , Alex, for $600.”
Nate’s laugh is textured with conceit, making everything worse.
“Please tell me you didn’t force me to come with you so that you could pretend I’m checking you out.”
“Who says I’m pretending?” Smugness ripples off him. “I knew you’d become one of my grade-A stalkers.”
“Ha!” I don’t bother toning down my sneer. “ One of your stalkers?”
He turns, showcasing a blinding smile. “One of many. ”
“I doubt it.” I look straight ahead to avoid his handsome face. “Women aren’t attracted to men who never grow up.”
“Sure they are,” he says with a charismatic smile that could ruin me.
I lean forward to turn the radio up. A heavy bass thumps through the car. “I hate rap.” I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. “If I have to suffer through a car ride with you, we’re at least going to listen to my music.”
“How unlike you to want to control everything.” His sarcasm is apparent. “What’s on the lineup? Mozart? Beethoven? Something that matches your old maid personality?”
“You’re hilarious.” I connect my phone to his Bluetooth and select my Something for Everyone playlist that never misses—an eclectic range from The Beatles to Bob Marley to Queen and everything in between.
A Counting Crows song starts playing, and since Nate doesn’t comment, I assume he’s fine with my choice.
Neither of us speaks.
What’s there to talk about besides work?
I can’t think of anything I would have in common with Nate Farnsworth.