Chapter 8
KATE
Thursday evening came right on time after what had been a pretty brutal workweek. It’d been worth the hours I’d put in, though.
By some miracle, the Hinds bid had come together much faster than anyone had expected. I hated to admit it more than words could possibly express, but Nate and I had ended up working exceptionally well together.
With the occasional input from Will, we had put together a plan that Alex seemed satisfied with. If everything held, my parents would finalize discussions after tomorrow night’s dinner and I could be back in New York by next week.
It was the absolute best-case scenario I’d hoped for coming over here, and it was actually happening. I was even smiling as I grabbed my coat and shut my apartment door behind me.
My nail appointment was across town, and if I was going to endure a formal dinner with the Westwoods, my armor needed to be flawless. I headed down the hall, pulling up my Uber app to book a ride, but the elevator dinged just as I turned the final corner.
When I looked up, Nate was stepping out of the car that had just arrived, and weirdly, he was soaked. Not slightly damp but completely drenched. He was still in his suit, so he hadn’t just been for a swim in the building’s pool or something equally sensible.
His dark jacket clung to his shoulders, water dripping from his hair onto the carpeted floor. The expression on his face looked carved from stone again, much sharper than usual, but there was something else underneath it.
Fatigue. Or distraction. Maybe both.
For a second, we just stared at each other. Normally, this would’ve been the part where one of us delivered a cutting remark. A jab. A territorial glare, but neither of us seemed to be in the mood.
“Rough night?” I asked finally, tilting my head as I took in the state of him.
His gaze slid over me but without his customary hostility. “Something like that.”
Oddly, his voice was different, still controlled and deep enough to carry authority, but it lacked the usual edge, sounding almost like he was either just too tired or too drained to sharpen it.
“You do know a thing called an umbrella has been invented, right? Nifty little tool. Keeps a person from getting wet when it’s raining out.”
His mouth twitched, not quite into a smile. In fact, even the twitch itself was barely there, but I’d still noticed it. “I’m aware.”
I nodded, saying nothing.
“Are you heading out?” he asked after a few beats of strangely peaceful silence between us.
“Yeah. I’m having my nails done before the big dinner.”
“When are your parents flying in?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” I said. “That’s why I figured I’d get this out of the way tonight.”
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor before lifting again. “Okay, then. I’ll see you at dinner.”
His tone was completely neutral. Polite, even. There was no challenge or underlying tension, and that unsettled me more than our usual sparring ever had.
Without another word, he brushed past me down the hallway and I stepped into the elevator before I could overanalyze the exchange. In the end, I did it for the whole ride over to the nail salon anyway.
I’d hoped that the familiar scent of acetone and lavender, the hum of dryers, and the quiet chatter around me would snap me out of it once I arrived.
Normally, this was my reset button, forty-five minutes of forced stillness while someone sculpted my nails to perfection, but tonight, my mind refused to cooperate.
I kept replaying that moment in the hallway, wondering why it had felt so wrong that we hadn’t glared at each other. There hadn’t even been one tiny little barb exchanged, which was so odd it was almost disturbing.
“Square or almond?” the technician asked.
“Almond,” I said automatically, staring down at my hands while she worked.
My phone buzzed beside me and I ignored it at first, assuming it was work. When it buzzed again, I glanced at the screen to see a notification for a new email, just the name of the sender instantly calming my racing mind.
My pulse sped up before I even opened it, the familiar anticipation, ridiculous and electric, instantly flaring. The message was short today, the signoff direct and unlike anything he’d ever sent me before.
We need to meet. We just need to do it.
My stomach dipped. Messages from him always made me feel weightless and excited, safe even, but this felt different. Almost… final.
A pinch of anxiety lodged behind my ribs as I stared at the words. The technician glanced up at me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, locking my phone and forcing a smile. “Just work.”
But the unease lingered, threading through the rest of the appointment, dull and persistent like an approaching storm you could feel in your bones long before the first drop of rain.
By the time I got back to my apartment, twilight had bled into evening, the city lights flickering alive outside my windows.
I dropped my purse onto the entry table and kicked off my heels, rolling my shoulders to release tension that refused to fully loosen. Everything had been going right. The deal was solid. My parents were arriving soon. My timeline for getting back to New York had been fast-tracked.
So why does it feel like something is shifting under my feet?
I moved through my routine on autopilot, changing into soft lounge clothes and pulling my hair into a loose knot. My laptop, however, sat on the coffee table unopened, work emails waiting like obedient soldiers.
Instead of getting back to it like I should have, I sank onto the couch, staring at my darkened phone screen. We need to meet.
The words echoed through my mind, excitement tangling with dread and twisting together until I couldn’t separate them. I just didn’t understand why. This should be a good thing. Not an ending but a beginning.
A sharp knock sounded at my door and I jolted upright, my heart kicking hard against my ribs. Another knock followed only a few seconds later.
Slowly, I stood up, my pulse thudding louder with every step toward the door. When I pulled it open, Nate stood on the other side. His hair was still slightly damp, his shoulders tense beneath a dark sweater that looked like it had seen better days.
He held a bottle of wine out toward me like it was evidence in a crime scene.
The bottle I’d left at his apartment a few days ago.
Neither of us spoke as I slowly reached out and took it from him, my fingers brushing the cool glass while his hand released it immediately, like he didn’t want to risk having my skin come into contact with his.
His jaw flexed once before he gave a short nod and turned toward his apartment across the hall, but he still looked off. Gone was the usual irritation. Instead, he just seemed drained of all emotion.
“Why do you look like your dog just died?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His gaze slid over my face, his expression unreadable. “No offense, but you look the same.”
I cocked my head at him, my eyebrows hiking up a little. “Excuse me?”
He faced me fully now, leaning one shoulder against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “What? I said no offense, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed take any. It just means you wanted plausible deniability in the event that what you said really did hurt my feelings.”
“Did it?”
“No, but only because I said it first.” I gripped the wine bottle against my hip. “I was simply willing to take responsibility if I caused offense.”
His mouth twitched again. “It still takes one to know one and you don’t even just look like your dog died. You look like you’re scared someone will accuse you of doing it.”
I frowned and started closing my door, my head shaking as I wondered why I’d spent so much time obsessing over his civility earlier at the nail salon. Clearly, he—
“I was told to play nice with you until tomorrow.”
I stopped with the door halfway closed, internally debating whether ignoring him would feel more satisfying than whatever nonsense had just come out of his mouth, but curiosity won and I pulled the door open again.
“Who told you to do that? Your emotional growth coach?”
“Alex,” he said, deadpan. “Our rivalry needs to end now. Or at least take a break until this dinner is over. Preferably until you return to New York.”
“You say that like you’re counting down the days.”
“I am.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Charming.”
“Honesty is charming, and I brought you your wine, didn’t I?” He kept staring me like it’d been a genuine question.
I sighed. “Well, if you really want to play nice, you can start by not glaring at me every chance you get. It would also be nice if you didn’t accuse me of flirting with your brother so his theoretical arranged wife doesn’t get mad about it several years from now.”
His scowl appeared, but it lacked its usual bite, once again making him look like he was too exhausted to fully commit. “That wasn’t what I—”
“It absolutely was,” I cut in. “For the record, Will is the only person in your family who smiles like he actually enjoys existing, so forgive me for responding to basic human friendliness.”
I fully expected him to fire back, but instead, he just shrugged, proving he really was out of sorts tonight. “If you think it’s just Will, you clearly haven’t met my sister yet. She genuinely does enjoy existing. Have a good night, Kate.”
As he pushed away from the wall, he looked worn so thin that I exhaled slowly and decided to just give it a rest. “Look, I don’t want tomorrow night to be awkward for my parents or your family. I also don’t want anything we do to affect this deal.”
“That’s surprisingly reasonable of you.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
His mouth almost curved again before he caught it, smoothing his expression back into neutral. “Truce?”
“Temporary ceasefire,” I said, shifting on my feet as I felt the remaining fight drain out of me. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one was that?”
“Why you look like life is out to get you today.”
The guards behind his eyes slid back into place immediately. “It’s just work. Good night, Kate.”
That was a complete lie, but I didn’t want to tell him what was going on with me either, so I couldn’t exactly push when I had zero intention of being honest with him myself. Instead, I just called out to him when he reached his door.
“I’ll be nice tomorrow.”
He glanced back then, something almost resembling amusement surfacing beneath his fatigue. “That probably took a lot for you to even consider.”
I straightened and reached for my own door again. “I believe that concludes today’s niceness quota. Good night, Nate.”
One of his dark blond eyebrows lifted, but I shut the door firmly between us before he could respond.
Nate looked like he was quietly losing a war he hadn’t agreed to fight, but it was none of my business, and as much as my natural curiosity was a default setting I couldn’t turn off, I wouldn’t ask again.
The Westwoods had stuff going on that was way beyond my comprehension, and frankly, the less I knew about it, the better. I was just biding my time until I could go back to my regular life in New York.
The last thing I needed was to do something foolish like get tangled up with Nate.