Chapter 25
There’s just no way to make a Voyager Travel Events t-shirt look sexy. It is what it is. Boxy and oversized and the most horrific shade of bright yellow.
I sneak another glance at Isaac’s girlfriend, Lauren—easy to do while wearing tinted sunglasses. Her outfit is the epitome of tourist chic: halter neckline, dangerously deep V in the back, flowy pleated skirt, no bra for those looking, which is probably every man here. Her hair is slicked into a low ponytail, making her large sunglasses and dangly earrings stand out as the perfect statement accessories.
Whatever small amount of confidence I had looking in the mirror this morning shattered when I saw her step into the lobby. Lauren looks like a Thailand goddess next to my black biker shorts and Chacos sandals. When packing, I was going for comfort and humidity relief, not style. Don’t even get me started on my fanny pack. Not a cute cross-body shoulder bag. I’m talking about the literal 1985 fanny pack .
It’s fine.
I’ll just keep my head down and work, which is what I’ve been doing all morning.
Today, I love my job.
We started with an hour-long bus ride so we could board a train to the Maeklong Railway Market. I strategically sat at the back of the bus, away from Nate, which was easy to do since I’d struck up a conversation with one of the executive's wives as we got on the bus. I asked her about her five children, and the homesick woman was more than happy to tell me about every single one of her kids, complete with pictures. I had to follow her to the back of the bus just to keep the conversation going.
Nate stayed up front by the microphone and dazzled the crowd with his wit. And I’m not even saying that sarcastically. He dazzled. He asked our driver questions and then played off his answers with humor and charisma. Fine, he was charming. I’ll admit it. It’s annoying how quickly he can win people over when I have to work hard to convince people I’m the tiniest bit of fun.
He won me over—briefly.
Which can’t happen again.
I underestimated the power of Nate’s acting skills last night. And the worst part is that he knows it. He knows he affected me. That’s the result he wanted, the reason he did it. Getting under my skin is a game to him. But it won’t happen again. I spent the better part of my night, when I should’ve been sleeping, counting all the reasons I dislike Nate to avoid thinking about why I might like him. I’ve got a running list in my mind to help stave him off.
I’m impenetrable.
From now on, everything between us happens on my terms. Just like the elevator. What’s the point of being named a control freak if I can’t even control my fake boyfriend?
We do this fake relationship my way.
With that as my mantra, imagine my disappointment when Nate plops down beside me on the train to the market.
“Miss me?”
“Not in the slightest.” I turn my gaze to the window, watching as green fields and apartments whip by.
“Well, too bad.” He leans closer, tickling my ear with his hot breath. “People noticed we’ve been apart all morning.”
I lift my shoulder to my ear, blocking his whisper advances. “I doubt anyone has noticed.”
“They think we’re fighting.”
“We are fighting. It’s what we do best.” I turn my head with a tight smile. I’ve seen Nate all morning, but there’s something about his close proximity that brings his features to life and gets my heart pumping. It could be that his lips are inches from mine again, or it could be his strong jawline, the dark stubble, the backward hat, the sunglasses, the shorts, the Voyager Travel t-shirt (that somehow looks good on him), the tennis shoes, or his all-encompassing smile.
There are a lot of physical things about Nate to notice.
Things would be so much easier if he were terminally unattractive.
He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “Trouble in paradise is bad for optics.”
“Stop trying to sound intelligent by using that word all the time. It’s annoying.”
“No, annoying is my fake girlfriend refusing to put on a show.”
“I’m not refusing to put on a show. We just haven’t connected yet today.”
“Are we going to connect like we did last night?” His voice is laced with flirtation.
“No, I already met my quota.” My eyes lock onto his with defiance. “And you said if I kissed you, we wouldn’t have to do that again.”
“Yeah, but we still have to keep up appearances. Kissing may get thrown in there again. Who knows?”
“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I knew that. I only did it once so I didn’t have to do it again.”
“Yeah, right.” He laughs. “Say it a little louder for the people in the back. Maybe they’ll believe you. But…” He discreetly points ahead a few rows, where Isaac sits in a chair facing us. His sunglasses are on, so it’s impossible to tell where his gaze is, but he has an easy view of us whenever he wants. “If you want that kiss to mean something, you better change that pretty little frown of yours into a smile.” Nate’s index finger trails across my jawline and then bops the tip of my chin. “Unless you want your boyfriend to know you made the whole thing up. Might be kind of embarrassing, though.”
Instead of smiling, my glare hardens. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Right. I am. So act like it.” There’s a challenge in his eyes, daring me to play the part I signed up for, which I will because I agreed to this lie.
I went as long as I could this morning without touching Nate. But my time has run out. From now on, I’ll control the physical touch. I twist my body, scooting back into him so that I’m facing the window.
“That’s better.” He lifts his arm, putting it around my shoulder so my back can rest easily against his chest.
I roll my shoulder, trying to get him off me. “Do you really have to put your arm around me all the time? I think we can get the point across without it.”
“If you’re this charming for all your boyfriends, I can’t imagine why you’re still single.”
My elbow jabs into his ribs, causing him to hunch over in pain.
From the corner of my eye, I see Isaac’s brows twitch under the rim of his sunglasses. Crap, he saw that. I’ll have to spend the next half hour making up for it.
I reluctantly nuzzle my body back into Nate’s— for optics —and look out the window.
“I think you punctured a rib.” Nate rubs his stomach.
“Let’s hope, if it means you’ll die a slow death.”
He chuckles into my ear, and although he’s not whispering directly into it, I still feel the shiver down my back. Now, I’m the one dying a slow death.
“Try to control your temper and act normal for a few minutes because my aunts are watching us right now.”
His aunts?
I discreetly glance around and spot the two women next to Connie Farnsworth. This fabricated relationship is a mutual bargain, a win-win for both of us, meaning we both need to benefit.
“I can behave,” I say.
“Thank you.” His tone is more exasperated than appreciative, but it’s a truce, nonetheless. “You’re going to love the market,” he says in what I guess is an effort to act like a normal couple. “The coolest part is seeing how close the train comes to the vendors’ stalls. They literally have to pull back their awnings and clear their goods off the tracks to make way for the train.”
“How many times a day does the train come through here?” My words are tenser than what’s natural, but I’m easing into my role.
“Something like eight to ten times. Once the train passes, they set their goods back up on the trackside and continue doing business as usual. It’s one of the coolest places I’ve been to in the world, a glimpse of how daily life and transportation come together in the Thai culture.”
There’s a reverent tone to Nate’s words that makes me pause. For all the time I’ve worked with him and all the trips and tours we’ve planned together, I’ve never considered that we share the same love of travel. I always viewed him as just being here for the money, not for the love of the experiences. I might have misjudged him on that. The thought takes the edge off my dislike. Just a little bit. And I hate it.
Beside me, Nate stands, stretching to see out the window. “Here comes the market. Up ahead.” He pulls me to my feet and places his hands on my shoulders, positioning me in front of the window. “That’s the perfect spot for you to see everything.”
I turn over my shoulder. “What about you? Don’t you want to see?”
“I’ve been here before. I just want you to enjoy it.”
Honestly, I just want to enjoy it too. I’ve been dreaming of traveling to Thailand for years. I’m pushing pause on the fake-relationship thing and living in the moment.
“Thanks.” I offer a small smile in appreciation.
“I’m not always the villain you make me out to be.”
“I don’t know about that.” I laugh as I turn back to the window.
The train slows, and suddenly, a crowd of people and shops are outside my window. Some hold cameras, filming as we pass by, while others wave at the train or even try to give high-fives to the passengers.
I love it.
It’s exactly how Nate described it—this perfect glimpse of daily market life and bustling transportation.
Joy bubbles out of me, and I turn to him with wide eyes, giggling. “This is incredible!”
“I told you.” His smile is just as big as mine. “Give me your phone, and I’ll take pictures of you.”
Grabbing the device out of my back pocket, I hand it to him and then look out the window again. “Hi! Hello!” I wave with a smile at all the people below.
“Carly, look here.”
I turn over my shoulder, smiling at the camera. Nate snaps a few pictures and then holds the phone out, taking a video of us as the market passes by our window.
Slowly, we pull into Maeklong station, and the doors open, emptying the train. Nate holds a Pureskin sign high in the air, waiting for our group to gather so he can give instructions on how long we’re staying and where to meet the bus. Usually, on these trips, I’m the one who handles that sort of thing. I actively seek out those responsibilities; it's part of Carly Catterson’s need to be in charge all the time. However, I appreciate how Nate steps up, relieving some of the stress and pressure I typically feel when running an event. For a moment, I feel like a tourist enjoying Bangkok like everyone else, and it’s kind of nice for a change.
“Have you ever seen anything like that before?” Nate’s mom asks as the group disperses.
“I haven’t. But I loved it!”
“Me too!” Connie’s eyes light with an excitement that reminds me of her son.
“I thought the train would run over people’s toes,” a slender woman with gray bangs and a low ponytail says. Her hand shoots out in front of me. “I’m Nate’s Aunt Vicky.”
“Nice to meet you.” I’m barely done shaking hers when another hand reaches out.
“And I’m Aunt Gina.” She’s shorter and rounder than Vicky but has dark-blue eyes and black hair. The contrast between them should be easy enough to tell them apart the rest of the week. “We’re thrilled about you and Nate. We would’ve introduced ourselves on the dinner cruise, but Connie said not to bombard you on night one.”
“You’ve got a good one with Nate.” Vicky leans in like she’s telling me classified information. “Don’t let his carefree lifestyle fool you. That boy will make the sweetest and most loving husband.”
“He’s always been a softy,” Gina agrees. “Just a gooey heart of gold.”
“Really? I’ve yet to see that side of him.” They all laugh, thinking I’m joking.
“Oh, you just wait,” Connie inserts herself into the conversation. “Both of my boys are sweet, but Nate has always had such a tender heart. You couldn’t punish him—even as a teenager—or his big brown eyes would tear up.”
I watch as his mom pats his cheek lovingly. Nate’s dad may suck, but he definitely won in the mom department, even if she has her mom goggles on when it comes to her son’s character.
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” One by one, Nate kisses the top of each of their hands. “As fun as it is to hear all about me, Carly and I are going to explore the market.” He grabs my hand. “Come on. Now, we get to experience it from the ground. The train leaves from the station in fifteen minutes.”
I wave back at his watching family members as he drags me away. Touring all day with Nate, especially hand in hand, isn’t my idea of fun, so when we’re a little ways away, I pull out of his grasp.
“Well done. You’ve fooled your aunts into thinking you’re a good person.”
His lips tilt into a crooked grin. “Or is it you I have fooled into thinking I’m not?”
I roll my eyes, biting back a smile.
We walk down the tracks, exploring the market, stopping to pick up handmade trinkets, and bartering with locals.
“Are you thirsty?”
“I can get it.” But Nate is already reaching into his wallet for some money.
He buys two water bottles and hands one to me.
“Thanks.” I twist open the cap and take a sip as he talks to a local about their goods.
“They’re insects,” he says to me, pointing down at the baskets in front of us.
“No, they’re not.” I glance at the shop owner. He nods like Nate is telling the truth.
“It’s considered a delicacy here and a good source of protein,” Nate says. “There are crickets, grasshoppers, silkworms, and scorpions.”
“Gross.” I step closer to get a better look. Sure enough, each basket holds a different type of seasoned and fried insect.
His gaze fills with mischief. “I’ll try one if you do.”
Let me be clear: these delicacies do not look appetizing, but there’s something exciting about Nate’s challenge that makes me want to participate… with him.
“Okay,” I answer with confidence.
His eyes pop. “Okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it.”
“I did not see that coming.” He reaches for his wallet again, handing the seller some coins. “We’ll take one cricket and one grasshopper.” Once the purchase is made, he holds an open palm out to me. “Which one will it be, Catterson?”
The teasing way he says my last name draws out my smile. I grab the cricket. “This one looks a little more manageable.”
“Of course, you take the easy one.”
“I don’t think either one of these will be easy.” I eye the bug with trepidation. “Should we count it down?”
“I think we should.” Nate begins to count as we hold them in front of our mouths. “Three. Two. One.”
I pop the cricket in my mouth and try to work fast. The texture is the worst part. With each crunch, I can imagine what body part I’m eating. My expression scrunches together with repulsion, but I power through, finishing before he does.
“It’s not my favorite.” His mouth contorts with disgust.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I lie before taking a sip of water to wash the horrific taste away.
“You’re full of it. That was awful.” He coughs as we continue down the tracks. “I never would’ve suggested it if I actually thought you were going to do it.”
“Why wouldn’t I do it?”
His shoulders lift. “You just don’t seem like the type of person who would spontaneously eat something like that. Actually, you don’t seem like someone who would eat it even if it were on your checklist and you got the satisfaction of crossing it off.”
“You really have to get over the whole checklist thing.” I pick up a wooden bowl with the word Bangkok carved into it and examine the simple craftsmanship before setting it down again. “You act like it’s my entire personality.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Is being annoying yours?” My teasing smile takes the sting out of my words.
“Fair enough.” He laughs as he follows me to the next booth. “So maybe we both have some preconceived notions about each other that aren’t true.”
I stop walking and face him. “Maybe.”
“So then, tell me what is true. Who’s the real Carly Catterson?”
This is where I usually get hung up. I have this mental block where I can’t let my guard down and be myself, especially in settings where I’m supposed to appear competent. That’s why dating a coworker will never work for me. I never showed Isaac the fun and carefree side of me, who likes rock climbing and river rafting. I thought if I did, it would taint how he viewed me as a professional woman in the workplace. Instead, I ended up coming off as unbearable and a killer of fun.
But what would be the point in showing Nate that side of me? There isn’t one. Not if I want to keep my heart safe from falling for a coworker again.
“We don’t have to do this,” I say as I walk to the next shop.
“Do what?”
“Try to get to know each other better. It’s cool if we just fake our way through this whole week, and then when it’s over, we can go back to work, ignore each other, and pretend like nothing ever happened.”
“Or we could come to a truce.”
“A truce?”
“Yeah, we could put down our weapons of war and get to know each other better. Maybe even become friends.”
I pick up a magnet to check the price. “I already have friends.”
“Yes, I met them. They’re a lot of fun, but I’m talking about work friends.”
“That’s what Taryn and Shelly are for.”
Amusement plays across his expression. “And you don’t need any more?”
“Not really.” Hearing it out loud sounds horrible, but I can’t risk my heart again. I’m still recovering from the last time I became friends with my incredibly beguiling coworker.
“Hmm.” Nate’s brows fold together like he’s trying to puzzle me out. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to convince you, Carly Catterson.”
My steps pause. “Convince me of what?”
A sweet smile breaks across his lips, or maybe it only looks sweet because his aunts are in my head. His shoulders move up and down in a boyish way that’s endearing. “Convince you to like me.”
I blink back at him, stunned by his words.
Since when has Nate Farnsworth cared if I like him?
The train whistle blows, and everyone begins to move, ending our conversation. Vendors take down awnings and pull back tables of goods while tourists scramble to find a place to watch the show.
Nate’s hands go to my waist, pulling me to a spot behind the designated line. I stumble back until my body hits his chest. He doesn’t immediately let go, keeping his grip on my hips, making sure I’m safely out of the way. There’s a flurry of commotion, but not so much that I don’t feel the whirl of butterflies accompanying his touch. It would be easy to lean into him and let him fully wrap me up in his arms—not that that’s what I want to do. I’m just saying it would be easy.
Way too easy.
There’s another whistle, and the train jerks forward, slowly moving toward the market.
“Here we go,” he says into my ear, causing my stomach to flip over.
Train. Focus on the giant train coming toward you.
But no matter how much I tell myself to live in this moment, my mind is stuck on Nate’s stupid hands on my waist and his admission that he wants me to like him.