Chapter 23
“So, how long have you two been dating?” Nate’s mom smiles back at me with such genuine interest that my heart pangs with guilt. Lying to Nate’s overbearing father is one thing, but Connie Farnsworth is a casualty of our fib that I did not see coming.
“Uh…” My eyes drop to my plate of food, feeling the disgrace.
“It’s new.” Nate comes to my rescue. “Just a few weeks.”
“So, nothing consistent,” Mack scoffs. “Just like always. One short relationship after another. There’s no real responsibility in that.” He takes a sip of his drink, looking around the boat.
Connie adjusts her expression, skipping over her husband’s words. “Have you worked at Voyager Travel long?”
The question is clearly for me, so I swallow my food and answer. “About nine months.”
“I’m surprised it took you both that long to realize you had a connection.”
“Carly didn’t like me at first.” There’s a gleam in Nate’s eyes when he looks at me.
“Why not?”
One look at Connie’s furrowed brows, and I feel like I just kicked her favorite puppy.
“I actually don’t know.” Nate flips his gaze to me. His stare challenges me, daring me to answer honestly. “Why didn’t you like me, Carly?”
I nudge his thigh with my leg, letting him know I don’t appreciate being put on the spot like this, but I instantly regret it. His fingers pinch just above my knee, squeezing hard and making me squirm. I grab his hand to try to stop the ticklish sensation, but he adjusts his grip, so now we’re holding hands again —this time under the table, which seems like the dumbest thing for our charade since nobody can see it. But it’s also the dumbest thing because it trips up my heart. I can either fight for my hand back or answer Nate’s mom. Answering seems easier since his death grip is no joke.
A thin smile pulls across my lips as I gaze back at him. “I thought Nate was arrogant and lazy.”
His nose scrunches, and he shakes his head at me, amused by my answer.
“That’s because he is,” his dad adds, pulling my gaze to him.
Under the table, Nate’s grip tenses again, and for some unknown reason, a protectiveness falls over me. It’s okay for me to call Nate that but not his dad.
“My first impressions about him were wrong. Nate isn’t lazy. He does a lot. I just didn’t value it the way I valued the things I do.”
Mack’s brows lift like I’ve piqued his interest.
“Nate focuses on people over projects or to-do lists. Because of that, he’s able to enjoy his job and play while he works—something I think we all could do more of. Everybody wants to travel with him because he’s so much fun. I mean, look how much your employees already love him after fifteen seconds at the microphone.”
“He does have a way with people,” his mom gushes. “He used to charm the socks off all his teachers in school.”
“You can’t make a living or take care of a family just by being charming,” Mack says.
“You actually can.” My chin lifts. “Nate’s charm attracts all our biggest clients. He’s a great salesman and brings in the majority of our big accounts and trips.”
I don’t know where all of this is coming from or why I feel the need to say it.
“That’s still not a way to provide enough for a family. Take Nate’s younger brother, Dawson. Now, there’s a kid with a good head on his shoulders. He's in a committed relationship, went to Princeton, studied economics, and is well on his way to taking over Pureskin.”
“Sounds like a great guy. I can’t wait to meet him.” I smile. “But Dawson’s path isn’t the only path out there. Not everyone is built to work behind a desk, especially when there are jobs where the world can be your office.”
His dad’s disapproving stare slides to him. “Looks like you found one person who buys into the bullcrap you’re selling.”
Nate lets go of my hand and slides his arm around my shoulder, curling his fingers around me possessively. Tingles shoot from my back, down my body, creating a swirl of havoc in my stomach.
“Carly’s opinions are the only ones that matter to me.” There’s a hard edge to Nate’s words that brings tension with them.
An uncomfortable smile stretches across Connie’s face. “Let’s not talk about all of that.” She gives Mack a stern warning with her eyes. “We’re here to relax, and have fun, and get to know Nate’s girlfriend better.” She turns to her son with a warm gaze. “What was your first impression of Carly?”
I fidget nervously under his arm as he eyes me. He’ll probably say he thought I was an ice queen or didn’t know how to have fun. I brace myself, preparing for the usual critiques of my personality, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what he actually says.
“First impression, I thought Carly was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Big blue eyes and a gorgeous smile. She intimidated the heck out of me.”
‘ The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen ’ is a cliché line that means nothing. There’s nothing believable about that statement when Gal Gadot in Wonder Woman exists, but I can’t help how his words affect me.
I swallow, feeling the hot sear of a blush color my cheeks. I’m suddenly aware of how our bodies touch: his arm draped across my back, his fingers skimming my shoulder, his thigh pressing on my bare leg, his hip jammed against mine. Thousands of points on the surface of my body send glorious sensations to my brain, putting me on edge and building an army of butterflies in my stomach.
And I don’t even like the guy.
I draw in a soft breath, looking for some relief as he turns to his parents with a crooked grin. “Then Carly spoke, and I realized what a pain in the butt she is.”
Nate winks at me, expelling all the air from my chest.
He was playing his part.
Acting. Again.
I’m so glad— so glad —I tell you.
“So what changed?” Connie leans in, too invested in our fake love story.
“Nate became desperate,” I snap, getting him back for the unnerving way he toyed with my emotions.
Connie’s brows lower like she’s not sure where we’re going with this.
“No more desperate than you.” His brown eyes squint at me, and his smile ticks higher on one side.
It’s cute.
I’ll tell you what’s not cute: being attracted to the devil.
So I reinforce my heart with fences, bricks, and a moat—everyone knows any good stronghold has a moat around it. Then, I remind myself that Nate Farnsworth is not an ally. He’s a means to an end.
“We were both just in the right place at the right time.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table in an effort to get my shoulders out from under his arm. But I severely miscalculated the situation.
His fingers slide to my back, rubbing. MASSAGING.
It’s a level of intimate touch I’m not okay with—specifically, that my treacherous heart is not okay with.
I scoot my chair out in a panic and stand abruptly. “I’m going to go check on the…” I scratch the back of my neck, trying to come up with something to do. I feel Nate’s laughing eyes beaming up at me, but I avoid them. With no excuse coming to mind, I begin walking away. “I’ll be right back.”
But it’s a lie.
I’m not coming back to his side.
That’s enough acting for one night.
* * *
Staying away from Nate is hard once the live band and dancing begin. Everyone partners off, swaying to the music with their significant other. It’s no surprise when he saunters to my side at the bow of the boat like he wants to be by me.
With ease, he slips his hand behind my back and jerks my body to his. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No.” I glower back at him, pressing my palms against his body, but Nate’s a brick wall, unmoving and unfazed by my resistance. “I’ve been avoiding this.”
“Careful.” He smiles, looking down at my hands pushing him away. “Or people will think you don’t like me.”
My jaw hardens. “I don’t like you.”
“Ah, I think you like me a little bit.” The lazy way the corner of his mouth curls is distracting, to say the least. His arm loosens, releasing me from his grasp. I immediately step back to create space between us.
“I think it’s you who likes this arrangement a little too much. Your public display of affection at dinner crossed a line.”
“How so?” His stance widens, and he faces me with folded arms.
“You were all over me.”
“I did what I needed to in order to convince my parents.”
“I think you were taking liberties. This charade isn’t a hall pass for you to get handsy whenever you feel like it.”
“That?” He snorts out a laugh. “That wasn’t handsy.”
“Yes, it was. Your hands were on my leg, on my shoulder, tickling my arm, massaging my back. That’s handsy.”
“The rules were whatever we deemed necessary to make this believable.”
“Not all of that was necessary nor appreciated.”
“If you were really my girlfriend, you’d enjoy having my hands all over you.”
“Well, I'm not your girlfriend, and I definitely didn’t enjoy it.”
Instantly, his smile fills with swagger, and I know I’m in trouble. “You enjoyed it a little bit.”
“Why do you keep saying that? Does your ego prevent you from believing not every woman is in love with you?”
His eyes flick to something behind me. When they meet mine again, he drops his arms, slowly stepping toward me.
“What are you doing?” I panic with each footstep.
“We have an audience.” I turn to see who he’s talking about, but Nate’s hand goes to my cheek, stopping me. “You have absolutely no chill.”
“Yes, I do.” My back straightens, uncomfortable with the warmth of his fingers against my skin.
“Then act like it. Put your arms around me.”
“No.”
My eyes glance around, latching onto Isaac dancing with Lauren. They’re slowly moving with the music like lovers do, but for one beat, our gazes meet. He’s keeping tabs on me. That’s motivation enough.
“Fine.” I take a step toward Nate, sliding my hands across his shoulders until they link around his neck.
“Good.” His fingers move from my cheek to my waist, sending a trickle of chills up my spine. “But you could lose the scowl. It ruins all the work we’re doing.”
I do my best to soften my expression and relax in his arms as Nate leads our bodies to the slow rhythm of the music. We’re dancing. I’m dancing with Nate Farnsworth. It’s a tragic turn of events.
“So if you didn’t enjoy how I touched you at dinner. What would you enjoy?” A teasing smile plays on his mouth. “For research purposes only.”
“You not in my space.” A glare accompanies my words, but I drop it when I see Isaac peeking over at us.
“You know, if we're going to be believable, you’ll have to touch me a little more. Get handsy, as you say.”
I lift my chin defiantly. “I’d rather die.”
“What are you so afraid of, Carly?” His dark brows lift in amusement. “Actually liking me?”
I’m afraid of that and so much more.
I look away, diffusing some of the tension building in my chest. “I don’t think actually liking you is possible.”
He laughs, the hot puffs tickling my neck and ear.
“Everyone has a breaking point.”
“Not me.”
His fingers tighten around the curve of my hips. Even without looking at him, I know the air between us has thickened with a new charge. Slowly, my eyes shift back to his. Somehow, he’s closer, crowding into my space, causing my pulse to jump.
One hand moves to Nate’s chest to push him back, but he closes his fingers over mine, keeping it against his body. His touch is warm, masculine, and more comforting than it should be. Heavy heartbeats pound against my ribs, intensifying with every passing second.
Nate’s eyes drop to my mouth, bringing memories of my dream and the kiss in the supply closet to the front of my mind. That memory alone has my heart skipping erratically.
Subtly, Nate moves closer, causing my body to stiffen.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” The quirk of his lips tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Nate,” I warn.
“Carly.” His thumb grazes the corner of my mouth, burning my lip with his touch.
“What are you doing?” My breath is frazzled.
“If we kiss now, it solidifies everything. Then we won’t have to do it again.”
Kiss now?
There’s logic in his argument, or maybe my heightened desire just wants to believe that we need this kiss. Because needing it and wanting it are two very different things. The incessant pounding of my heart distracts me from figuring out the answer. I feel the weight of a thousand gazes on us but can’t name a single person watching.
His fingers move from my mouth, threading into my hair, angling me exactly where he wants me. Intense brown eyes stare down at me, watching, waiting for the moment I give approval. I clench his shirt, ready to shove him away, but my thrumming heart won’t allow it.
I swallow then lift my head, parting my lips as an invitation. His hold around me tightens as he brings my body closer and his mouth to mine. The kiss isn’t careful or hesitant. There’s a purpose behind his slow, deep movements.
Dang him.
He’s good at this.
Too good.
Nate tilts his head, deepening our tension. My fingers curl, gripping his shirt even tighter. His other hand slides from my hip to the small of my back, pressing me against his warm, solid body.
The way his lips move—firm, teasing, like he has all the time in the world to break me down—has my head spinning enough to make me dizzy.
No. Absolutely not. I don’t want this .
Except… my body isn’t exactly getting the message.
It’s reacting and giving and taking at every push and pull of his lips.
A quiet, involuntary sigh escapes me, and that’s it.
That’s his victory.
I feel Nate smile against my mouth, smug and insufferable.
The realization hits me like a slap, and I tear myself away, breathing hard.
Nate doesn’t step back. He stays close, his gaze flicking down to my lips, his smirk downright unbearable.
“Tell me you didn’t like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough with pride.
I force myself to look unaffected, to ignore the way my lips tingle, but my body betrays me. The evidence is in my uneven breath and my fingers still curled in his stupid shirt.
His smirk deepens. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
I blink back at him as he snickers and walks off.
Nate Farnsworth bothers me.
He bothers me so much.