Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
“ H ey, Nater Tot,” Stella said as she walked into the room.
Nathan looked up from where he sat on his bed, his finger hovering over the channel-changing button on the remote. He let his head fall back to the headboard as a slow smile split his face. The nicknames were back—something he’d taken for granted before. But she’d bolted out of the room so quickly, he thought maybe her playfulness walked right out that door with her. It warmed him to know it hadn’t.
“Did you get your perk?”
“I did. What did you do while I was gone? You got dressed, by the looks of it.”
“I did,” he said with a nod, waving a hand in front of his blue button-down shirt. “Do you think this is appropriate for tonight? I didn’t pack many options.”
“Absolutely. You look good. I mean, the shirt—it looks good.” She turned her back to him as she looked through the closet. “I still have to figure out what I’m wearing tonight.”
She rifled through the options on hangers, pausing to get a better look at some and quickly passing by the others. Nathan always assumed she had outfits planned days in advance, since she always looked so pulled together. But something had her rattled ever since she walked into the shared room this evening.
“What about that one?” he offered, trying to help. And also, she’d already flipped through her options twice.
Turning slowly, she held up the sleeve of the top he’d recommended. He’d only seen the color of the fabric, a burnt orange with navy stripes he thought looked rather festive. It was only then he noticed it was the shirt that had pieces of hay dangling from the cuff.
“This?” She smiled as she shook her head, her fingers toying with the straw. “You think I should wear this tonight?”
“Well, maybe without the—hay, is it?” He hopped off the bed, making his way to the closet. “Why do your clothes look like they’ve spent too much time at the farm?”
She playfully shoved his chest, and he didn’t hate it. He also didn’t hate the tiny smirk playing at her soft pink lips. “It’s my costume for Boo at the Zoo Thursday night.”
“Ah.” He took a step back. “I didn’t bring a costume.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal. This is just left over from last year.”
Nate tilted his head, remembering very vividly what she’d worn at the town’s Fright Night last Halloween. “You didn’t dress up last year.”
“You’re right.” She nodded once then turned to hang the garment back in the closet. “That was one half of a couple’s costume that didn’t see the light of day.”
“Why not?” He didn’t mean to pry, but it looked like a nice enough getup. He couldn’t imagine why she’d deemed it not good enough for the festivities.
“Bobby didn’t want to.” Her eyes fell to the floor as she shrugged. “He wasn’t the biggest fan of my wild adventures.”
“I wouldn’t really classify wearing a scarecrow costume a wild adventure.”
She busied herself as she looked through her wardrobe a third time. “Well, that wasn’t the only time.” Her hand stilled as soon as the words left her mouth, like she hadn’t meant to blurt them. “I mean, he just…” She grabbed the end of the flannel shirt, watching her fingers toy with the straw. “I think, at the end of the day, I just wanted someone who would…show up for me. I know it’s silly?—”
“It’s not,” he interrupted. “Not at all.” What a small thing to do for someone you supposedly cared about. Though, he got the feeling that show up for me was only a tiny piece of a larger picture. That there was something she wasn’t saying with her words but sure was trying to convey with her hunched posture and bitter smile. “Is that why Lucy is so set on matchmaking you?”
“Probably. She just wants me to be happy. But I am happy. For the most part. And I’ll be happy in my own time—when I’m ready. I wish she’d just give me a little room to breathe.”
Nate sighed, suddenly wondering if he was wrong to reject her idea to fake date. If pretending to be her boyfriend would get Lucy and company off her back, that might not be the worst thing. Although, the two of them would have to spend more time together—something he was trying to avoid as much as he could. He’d definitely be playing with fire. But to help Stella, wouldn’t it be worth it?
She peered over his shoulder toward the nightstand, and her eyes bulged. “Gosh, I’ve been yammering too long. I need to get ready.” She grabbed two or three things from the closet and walked to the bathroom.
“Stella,” he said before she closed the door.
“Yeah?”
“I hope you know…” He momentarily lost his words in the two deep pools of blue that pulled him in. “I’m here…if you ever need someone to…yammer to. Okay?”
Her blue eyes shone in the overhead lighting as she nodded. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to wait for you? We could walk down together.”
She paused before shutting the door. “I’d like that.”
He would too.
So, he waited, busying himself by flipping through the channels on the television before settling on one showing an episode of Friends he’d seen so many times he knew several lines by heart. Turned out, it wasn’t enough of a distraction, because every minute she spent in the bathroom getting ready made his hands sweatier and sweatier. Besides, she was wasting her time. There was no way she could make herself look more beautiful than she was when she had gone in there.
When she opened the door fifteen minutes later, he realized how wrong he’d been.
“How do I look?”
Where to begin? She always looked beautiful. But tonight, the word didn’t do her justice. Not by a long shot. Her hair hung in long, golden waves down her back while her face glowed. If she’d applied any makeup, it was minimal, letting the natural soft pink of her cheeks and lips steal the show. But what she wore—well, that stole his breath. She’d paired dark, curve-hugging jeans with an ivory sweater that hung off one shoulder—a milky white shoulder he wanted to touch with his lips as they worked their way up the gentle curve of her neck, finding their home on her glossy lips.
Oh, boy. He was in trouble tonight.
“I’m still waiting…” She popped her hip, posing with raised brows, waiting for him to answer the question she’d asked an indeterminate amount of time ago.
“You look stunning.”
Her eyes popped to his, large and rounded, like that wasn’t what she’d expected to fall out of his mouth. Shoot, was that not the right thing to say? There were so many things he could have complimented. Heck, he could have written a poem about her hair alone. Though, that would have been super weird and inappropriate. But half the things running through his head were inappropriate for this situation. She was his boss, and he was her employee. She was a human, and he was a werewolf. She seemed hurt by whatever Bobby had done to her, and…well, okay…that was one thing they had in common. The only thing.
“Thank you.” She walked toward him, and he hadn’t even noticed her black stiletto boots until he heard their soft click on the floor. Their pointy toes stopped an inch from his boots. “You hungry?”
Starving.
Stella was talking about dinner, of course. Not whether or not he wanted to devour her. Which he did. But not that way. Or…maybe that way? When he shifted into a werewolf, there was no telling what or who he would devour. Though, he’d never attacked a human before. But that didn’t take away from the fact that he was a monster. He needed to remember that.
When she’d told him about her ex, he’d wanted to protect her. To shield her from that kind of pain and from anything that could cause it in the future. He was a fool not to put his name at the top of that list. And reversely, there was a very real chance she’d hurt him. He’d long believed that no one could ever love a monster. But after watching Lucy and his brother, he began to wonder if his mantra needed a tweaking.
Maybe no one could ever love him .
“Stella and Nathan! Over here,” Lucy chirped, waving to them from across the restaurant. The hostess had mentioned they were the last in the party to arrive, and that meant they got last pick of the seats, which were two empty chairs smooshed closer together than the others. Stella wasn’t at all surprised.
They walked through the restaurant under the orange lights strung overhead and past patrons enjoying their meals at the rustic wooden tables scattered about the large room.
She knew she shouldn’t have taken so much time getting ready. Except, she wasn’t so much getting ready as she was just standing in the bathroom trying to regain a modicum of composure. Why had she brought up Bobby? She’d tried to forget about him, and until recently, she’d been doing a wonderful job. But packing that costume, thinking about the ways he’d diminished her confidence, dulled her flame—the memory of him came rushing back and flew right out her mouth.
“Good to see you all,” Nate said with a half wave and a tone that said he wasn’t all that happy to see any of them. He probably didn’t like the table set-up either. The firm set of his jaw remained as he pulled out her chair, and she swore she heard a tiny growl as his came out with it. What was the deal? No one else looked like they were sharing the same seat.
“We ordered some drinks, and the music should be starting soon,” Lucy said. “Everyone ready to get their dance on?”
“I know I am,” Angie, the ballroom dancer responded, surprising no one—except for Stella because…
“I thought we were eating dinner first.” She sure hoped so, anyway. She hadn’t eaten since she finished off the snack pack of Goldfish crackers she’d shared with Nate.
“Oh, I texted you earlier. I made a reservation at the Trace Chophouse. They couldn’t seat us until later, so I thought we’d enjoy some music and dancing beforehand.” Lucy looked around the table. “Did you not get the message?”
Truth was, she hadn’t looked at her phone since she’d gotten here because she’d been a little distracted. Wonder why that was. Her eyes tracked to the man beside her.
She was just about to say they could wait when her stomach rumbled. If she was this hungry, she couldn’t imagine how her roommate felt. “We’ll order an appetizer and then join you all on the dance floor when we’re finished. Is that okay with you?” She turned to Nate, who sat so close to her their shoulders bumped when she turned to him. Heat radiated from his body as though she sat next to a roaring fire. But there was something roaring in his eyes, made more apparent to her by their close proximity. Poor guy was probably starving. She pulled out the half-eaten pouch of Goldfish crackers from her purse and sat them on his lap.
“That sounds…” he began before his eyes dropped under the table. The corner of his mouth tipped up the slightest amount as his looked back at her. Another chocolate morsel for her. “Perfect. That sounds perfect. Thank you.”
She shrugged and returned his tiny smile with one of her own. “Whatever it takes to keep you from becoming insufferable.”
“Aren’t I always insufferable?”
“So just imagine when you haven’t eaten.” Her voice came out deeper, huskier, an edge to it that might have been flirting-adjacent. She blamed the acoustics of the room.
He popped a cracker in his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers, and…since when had eating a childhood snack ever looked so good? Forget marketing these to kids with cartoons and little fishy mascots. If the Goldfish people really wanted these things to sell, here was their ad. Women across America would go nuts. Not Stella, of course. Just…other women.
“Great,” Lucy said as she smiled at the two of them like they were characters in a romantic-comedy movie she couldn’t get enough of. How long, exactly, had she been staring at him eating cheese-flavored fish? “We were just talking before you got down here about some of the other activities for the week…like a couples massage? Oh, and there’s couples yoga. The couples aerial course…”
Stella stiffened, something Nate no doubt felt as they sat shoulder to shoulder. He reacted the same. She’d seen the brochures about the yoga and massages, though she was pretty sure Lucy was just adding the word couples to everything she mentioned because what the heck was a couples aerial course?
She wiped her hands on her jeans under the table, hoping no one would notice. Did she really have to do all this? And worse, with a man who had no interest in her whatsoever? This was last Halloween all over again, but instead of someone not showing up for her, the man was here, just probably wishing he was anywhere else.
And instead of handing out candy to children, this year, she was going to dangle from a rope hundreds of feet above the ground—that was what happened on these aerial courses, right? Not that she knew, seeing as how heights caused her breath to cease as much as the pressure of having to do this all alone did. But she wouldn’t have to do it alone. She’d have to do it with a man who didn’t want to do it with her…while her friends and cousin watched.
“I…” she started before taking a big swallow—or attempting to with the little saliva left in her mouth. “I…”
“It’s okay, honey,” a deep voice said from behind her. Who was this honey ? And why was everyone staring at her ? Unless…
Her head turned to her right, everything around her moving in slow motion, until her eyes settled on the man who’d scootched so close she felt the firmness of his chest against her back. The memory of their popcorn ball session flashed in her mind, and at the time, she thought nothing could have felt better than that moment, but she’d been so wrong. His eyes rounded, like he was telepathically trying to tell her something, but the message was lost in translation—mostly because her brain was still working overtime to find out who this honey was and why it’d sounded like Nathan was the one who’d said it.
“You might as well tell them the truth.”
There was that deep voice again, and it moved in sync with Nathan’s mouth. Stella knew because she couldn’t stop staring at it. And then his lips started moving again when more words tickled her cheek.
“Stella and I are dating.”
Wait…Nathan is dating someone? Gosh, no wonder he didn’t want to do a whole fake-dating charade with me. How humiliating. How…wait—did he say Stella ?!
“What?!” Lucy squealed like she’d just won the Super-Mega-Epic Lotto. “Since when?”
Was Stella supposed to answer that? The six pairs of eyes trained on her certainly thought so. But before she could blurt out something that would have blown the ruse or embarrassed her—or let’s be honest, both—a warm hand cupped her bare shoulder, its thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin and sending her to a place of bliss she’d send everyone a postcard from that said she was never coming back.
“Since this one here knocked a little sense into me.” The words rumbled in his chest, which she felt with him still pressed against her. And suddenly, she was back in her office, her face so close to his, and his eyes diving deep into her. She’d gotten a funny feeling in her gut that night, like something between them had shifted—or maybe that feeling was nerves stemming from a looming lawsuit. But clearly, she’d knocked the sense out of him because what was he doing agreeing to this harebrained idea she’d thrown out and he’d swatted away only an hour ago?
“This is…not what I was expecting,” Eric said, shaking his head as he displayed a wide grin. “And here I thought we told each other everything.”
His hand paused, his touch warm and firm on her shoulder. “What I’ve felt for her was too precious to share with anyone other than the woman who’s stolen my heart.”
Stella stilled, which was quickly becoming her frequent reaction to every single thing this man said this evening. Dang, was he good at this. In fact, if she’d known just how good he was at this, she would have asked him to be her fake boyfriend months ago, when Lucy first started putting her nose where it didn’t belong.
“Wow, you two are just…” Hannah began, drawing a hand to her chest. “This is just wonderful.”
Yes…wonderfully false. Part of her felt bad for the deceit, until she saw the broad smiles of her cousin and soon-to-be cousin-in-law. They’d put this into motion. They’d pushed and pushed until there was no other option. Well, except to tell them to back off, which she’d done—many times.
Couple by couple, the group walked to the dance floor, seemingly content with the outcome of their meddling. And Stella felt a contentedness herself, if she was honest. The knowledge that Lucy and Eric wouldn’t hound her about her love life or meddle the rest of the week was as comforting as the arm draped comfortably on her shoulder and as soothing as the circles Nate traced on her bare skin with his thumb. So, she decided to lean into this—all of it—as she shifted her weight in his direction.
For the act, of course. No other reason.
It was a moment of weakness.
That was what Nate told himself, anyway. Except, it had been quite the opposite. When the table of people staring at the two of them started spouting the events of the week, when Lucy mentioned activity after activity dealing with couples, when he felt Stella’s muscles stiffen like a board, his desire to protect her and do anything to help her kicked in. And between that and the hunger those few Goldfish couldn’t satiate, he was about ninety seconds from giving the whole restaurant something to really stare at.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said between bites of pierogi. She obviously couldn’t hear the thoughts in his head because they hadn’t shut up since he’d blurted that they were together. A verse of I thought you were going to put some distance between the two of you , followed by a chorus of Are you a complete moron? . It was a musical interlude he’d rather not hear on a loop. But the voices in his head made an excellent point. Less than an hour ago, he’d rejected her idea for the very reason swirling in his brain right now. The second verse was practically writing itself because he really was a moron.
“I just… I’m sorry I told everyone we’re together. Are you mad at me?”
She quirked a brow as she looked at him. “Why would I be mad at you? This was my idea.”
“Yeah, but I told you we shouldn’t do it. And then I went and did it without discussing it with you first. Maybe you’d changed your mind…”
He paused as her hand covered his, lightly squeezing it as her eyes met his. They sparkled in the glow of the tiny jack-o-lantern centerpiece, and he counted every fleck of gold he’d never noticed before. Gosh, he hoped she hadn’t changed her mind.
“I didn’t,” she answered, and his muscles unclenched a little. But why? He shouldn’t have wanted her to go along with this. It would have been so much easier if she hadn’t. But as her smile sparkled as brightly as her eyes, he thought that maybe easy was overrated. “I didn’t change my mind…unless you have?”
He shook his head the moment the words left her mouth, giving his brain no chance to step in and call a timeout, to tell him to get his head in the game—or whatever other clichéd phrases coaches told their players when they’d disappointed them with some poor in-game decisions. Because this…this decision was a Hail Mary pass into the end zone with nobody but the defense within twenty yards.
“I haven’t.”
“Okay, then.” She punctuated it with a nod and then turned to dunk another mini pierogi in the barbecue sauce, but not before he caught a glimpse of her small smile before she did.
Dabbing her mouth with the cloth napkin, she sat back from the table with a content sigh. “That was delicious. I can’t believe we made such short work of that platter.”
He chuckled when her eyes zeroed in on the plate, which once overflowed with fried pockets stuffed with potato and cheese. “What? You said yourself I was starting to get hangry.”
He grinned as he looked at her. To the outside world, they probably did look like a real couple. Running his finger along the edge of his napkin gave his hands something to do instead of reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. A real boyfriend would have done that. But he couldn’t. He’d already touched her way too much tonight, what with the way their chairs were practically on top of one another.
If circumstances were different, Stella would have been someone he definitely would have pursued. Someone whose hair he’d push back so he could see more of her face, gain greater access to her kissable neck. Someone he’d worship with his lips—and not because they were putting on a show. Someone he could have really seen himself with.
But he could settle for this, as long as he remembered his well-established boundaries, even though they’d boinked right out of his head moments ago. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
The music, which he hadn’t paid any mind for the entirety of their meal, slowed as the people on the floor paired off.
“They’re actually pretty good.” She nodded toward the end of the room, where a string quartet sat atop a slightly raised stage.
Nate looked at the sign hung behind them. “The Dashing Pumpkins?”
She nodded. “They’re playing at Lucy and Eric’s wedding ceremony.”
The two of them sat back in their chairs, listening to the middle-aged men in orange bowties play popular rock ballads on their stringed instruments. He was surprised how much he enjoyed it.
“Do you think we should dance?” Her voice was soft, slightly trembling as her rounded eyes peered through long lashes.
That pep talk he’d just had with himself? It flittered off like autumn leaves in the wind, especially when The Dashing Pumpkins played the opening chords to “The Only Exception” by Paramore. And when she looked at him like that, her doe eyes as big and round as he’d ever seen them, there was no way he could say no to her. She had to know that, right? And yet, when she ducked her chin to her chest and held her elbows tight to her side, he knew he would have given her the world if she’d asked.
“Stella,” he whispered just loud enough to be heard over the soft ballad filling the restaurant. His shaking hand came up to her chin, bringing her face to meet his. He was just about to speak when her lips parted, her tongue wetting the pillowy softness he was suddenly hungry for. “I’d love that—to dance with you.”
They sat there for a beat, then two more, neither moving, save for the rise and fall of their chests. What was happening? Well, nothing…nothing at all. But it felt like everything to Nathan, and that meant he had to put an end to…whatever this was.
Rising from his chair, he extended a hand, and a bolt of something shot up his arm at her touch. When her breath hitched at the same time, he wondered if she’d felt it too. It was probably just static electricity or something. She was wearing a sweater, after all. And the air was dry. Probably.
This feeling wasn’t some great feat of romance. It was science. Nothing more. Also, the reason his heart pounded in his chest at her nearness—biology. He remembered his grade school chemistry teacher saying how science was all around them. Boy, was she right about that.
“This good?” Stella asked as she stopped on the dance floor, dropping his hand and turning to him. Was what good, exactly? The soft, romantic stylings of The Dashing Pumpkins? This setting, with artfully strung lights stretching from each end of the room? The way she looked tonight, wearing clothes that subtly called out every curve of her body? It was all good. Very good.
And once his mind stopped rattling off all the things about this night that he’d want to commit to his memory so he could relive them once this was all over, he finally caught on that she was asking if this spot was good for them to dance. He quickly realized he’d dance with her anywhere she’d ask him to.
“Yep,” he answered as his eyes roamed the dance floor. He wasn’t a junior-high boy asking the prettiest girl in the gymnasium to dance for the first time, but his hands hadn’t gotten the memo. They trembled slightly as he stood with them at his front, clutching them like he was posing for a photograph.
This was ridiculous—she’d already agreed to dance with him. In fact, she’d asked him . That reassurance did little to stop his palms from sweating. And not just his hands. As he moved closer, he said a silent prayer that the “extra-strength” part of his extra-strength deodorant held up its end of the deal.
The sleek black leather of her boot now touched the rounded toe of his as she reached up and put both arms around his neck. There was something he was supposed to do next, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what.
“You don’t have to be afraid to touch me,” she said with a chuckle, and he’d remembered what his part was in all this. Though, afraid wasn’t the right word. More like terrified. He was terrified to touch her, but probably not for the reason she thought.
“I was just…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he proceeded to robotically move his arms to her waist. But as soon as his palms met her soft knit sweater, his arms took over, wrapping themselves around her waist and pulling her a little closer. “To sell the act,” he said as she peered up at him. “We’re supposed to look like a couple, right?”
“Well, in that case…” she trailed off as she closed the gap between them, resting her head on his chest. As they swayed to the song, wafts of her vanilla scent flooded his senses, and he breathed in the comforting scent.
They stayed like that for a moment—not long enough, if you asked him. When she leaned back to look at him, he noticed a drip of barbecue sauce at the corner of her mouth.
“You’ve got a little…”
He once again broke his no-touching rule and cupped her chin with a featherlight touch, still unsure he should be doing this. Even less sure that looking this deeply into her eyes was a good idea. But here he was.
His thumb was just about to brush the fleck of sauce from her porcelain skin when he got the feeling someone was watching him.
But it wasn’t someone. It was several someones.
“Everyone is staring at us,” he stage-whispered to Stella, his hand still touching her face for reasons he couldn’t articulate at the moment.
She looked around. “Well, not everyone. Just our friends. The people we just told that we were in a relationship.” She shook her head, and her eyes glanced down at his hand still cupping her face. “You kind of look like you were about to kiss me.”
He took in her parted lips, her round eyes peering up at him through thick lashes. He realized that was exactly what he wanted to do. So, the only way to right this was to stand as stiff as humanly possible, unmoving, like one of those guards with the tall hats that never even cracked a smile. That was the new plan.
Until Stella looked at his lips…and then shrugged.
Was she about to kiss him? Was she moving closer? Did his breath smell like Goldfish?
He didn’t have time to think about much else, because before he knew it, she was pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. A kiss so chaste, so innocent, and so…fast.
On a sigh, he felt her melt into him, her shoulders dropping as her head nestled deeper into his chest. Like her world hadn’t been rocked by that peck. Maybe it hadn’t. But for half a chorus, he thought maybe she was enjoying this as much as he was…until he saw Lucy and his brother out of the corner of his eye, flashing him a thumbs-up with matching cheesy grins. He’d forgotten why they’d kissed in the first place. Stella moving closer and pressing her lips to his was all part of an act. Of course it was.
But as they slowly turned on the dance floor, he ignored the logical side of his brain, and for the rest of the song, he let himself imagine that it wasn’t.