Chapter 8
NATE AND I ARE the only ones left lingering at the table after dinner.
Pete and Tripp are on cleanup duty, and Linney is leading Mr. Lancolm down to the firepit, while Mom, Cooper, and Cara are down on the lawn, pacing around as they estimate how many wedding guests our backyard can reasonably hold.
I’m still frozen in my seat, trying to figure out what in the world just happened when my dad walks over.
“Your mother says I need to stay here to entertain Russ,” he tells me, nodding his head in Mr. Lancolm’s direction.
“I’ve got it all ready for you though. You okay to do the fireworks without me? ”
“Sure, no problem.” Escaping to the lake alone is exactly what I need right now. And honestly, blowing a few things up might be the perfect catharsis.
“I can help,” Nate offers, rising from his chair.
“It’s okay.” I stand, collecting my plate and Nate’s empty one.
“Good man.” Dad slaps a large hand on Nate’s back. “Just do whatever she tells you.” He pats Nate on the back and heads toward Pete and Tripp at the firepit.
“I don’t need any help.”
“You seem very capable,” he agrees, helping to clear off the table. “Can I not just want to play with explosives though?”
This gets a grin from me. “You’re welcome to come. It’s just that we set them off from the floating dock, so you’re going to have to get wet. But let me see if I can grab a suit from Coop.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, trailing me in the kitchen and placing dishes beside the sink.
“Don’t you want to put on a bathing suit?” I ask.
“Don’t need one.” He pats his butt like it’s a prize-winning horse. “Performance fabric.”
“Right. Well, this is not performance fabric.” I gesture to my gingham D?en set. “Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”
Nate is strapping the last bungee cord around the cooler when I return, and does a satisfying double take when he sees me in my bikini.
I smile.
Then he strips off his shirt, revealing toned pecs and a tight ripple of abs leading down into his shorts. My smile disappears into a flushed stutter.
Which is ridiculous. I live in LA, and I sell athleisure.
I see tons of perfectly sculpted and tanned torsos, so I’m not sure why this one has such an effect on me.
Maybe because Nate himself is so completely artless.
Not the type of guy to buff up at the gym, obsessed with grooming, self-tanned and practically hairless like most of the guys I’ve dated.
He’s built, but in a natural way, like he’s actually using his muscles to move heavy objects around for work.
His tan is uneven, a line along his bicep from where his T-shirts hit, and faint stripes along his feet from the Chacos he’s just kicked off.
Soft-looking hair trails down a broad chest to a toned stomach, dipping into—
I swallow. “Right. Well, let’s get to it!”
I double-check that the fireworks cooler is carefully strapped to the inner tube, and we launch it off the edge of the lake.
As I swim out, I’m careful not to get my hair wet.
I should have at least one more day with this blowout, maybe two, if the gods of humidity and dry shampoo feel fit to grant me favor.
The water feels cool and amazing against my skin. I always love its silky texture, its minerally smell.
Even manning the inner tube, Nate beats me to the dock.
He waits beside the ladder to let me climb up first. As I step up, I’m conscious of the fact that he has a perfect view of my bikini bottoms, and hope they are doing their job of hugging my butt just right.
In my pageant days, we literally used a special kind of adhesive spray to keep our bathing suits in place—no one wants a wedgie during the swimsuit competition.
Nate follows, pulling the entire inner tube onto the dock with us. “So, fireworks,” he says, squatting down and shaking the water from his hair like a golden retriever. “How do we get them matching, but not matchy?”
I smile—he’s quoting me back to myself from the farmstand earlier. “That’s not my philosophy with fireworks, actually.” I unhook the bungee cord and kneel down to start arranging them by type.
“Enlighten me.”
“More is more.” Why do those words sound so naughty as soon as they’re out of my mouth?
He breaks into a wide smile as he sits down beside me.
“I like it.” The lake laps softly on the dock as we work in companionable silence.
I’m carefully lining up red bottle rockets when Nate says, “Oh, before I forget.” He pulls out a thermos from the cooler.
“Your dad made me pack this. Is it lighter fluid or something?”
“Lighter fluid?” I pause, a bottle rocket in my hand. “You really know nothing about fireworks, do you?”
He just shrugs good-naturedly. “Almost as much as I know about car engines.” He unscrews the top and sniffs. “This is straight tequila.”
“Dad’s margaritas,” I explain. “A Bennet family tradition.”
Nate takes a tentative sip, then grimaces. “We can’t drink this.”
“Why not?” I ask innocently.
He gestures wildly at the fireworks surrounding us. “Someone will lose an arm!”
“Oh.” I draw out the word like I’m having a revelation. “So, you’re saying we shouldn’t get blind drunk before shooting off explosives?”
“No?”
I smile at him, momentarily struck again by his blue eyes, darker now that the sun’s setting. “Good tip. Maybe you know more about fireworks than you think.”
There’s a whoop from the shore, the sound carrying across the lake.
Nate and I look up to see Cooper and Cara on the lawn, chicken fighting with the kids.
They tumble into a heap, laughing, as William and Anna Carol pig-pile on top of them.
If they were any other couple, the sight would make me smile.
I turn back to the bottle rockets, laying each one in a row.
“Hey, Nikki.”
“Hmm?”
“Since we’re alone… Can you climb into the trust tree with me?”
Despite the weirdness of this whole night, I grin again. I never know what’s going to come out of this guy’s mouth. After all the predictable guys I’ve dated before, it’s fun to be surprised. Not that Nate and I are dating. Obviously.
“Sure.” I start to position the Roman candles. “Take me to the trust tree.”
He dangles his legs over the dock, then pats the wood beside him.
For a minute, I take in the sculpted shape of his shoulders as he leans back on his arms, before I come over and sink down next to him, letting my feet skim the surface of the water.
With the sun going down, shades of pink and lavender and gold dance across the waves.
He leans toward my shoulder and I shiver, thinking he’s about to brush against me.
Instead, he lowers his voice, as if we’re at risk of being heard.
“It’s insane that they’re getting married, right? ”
I whip around to face him, not sure I’ve heard him right. “Yes!” He ducks away from the firework still in my hand. I place it behind us, beside the others. “Insane. Thank you. Why can’t anyone else see that?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to try to talk a little sense into Cara. No offense to Cooper.”
“No, full offense to Cooper. I love him, but he is an absolute ding-dong.”
“Cara has been through a lot. I know you have too.”
“Sure.” I don’t see a need to debate the point that everything I went through was because of Cara. I’m just glad one other person agrees with me.
“I just don’t think she should be rushing into something,” Nate says. “I don’t think anyone should. You should have to date someone…
I don’t know… a decade before you decide to marry them.”
“A decade?” I start attaching the fuses to the remote control lighter.
“At least.” Nate nods. I’m not sure why he’s so vehement about this, but he clearly has commitment issues.
He’s also the only other person in either family who sees this ridiculous situation for what it is.
And I need allies. (He might not have the ferociousness I was counting on from Anna Carol, but he has a much firmer grip on the alphabet.)
“Well, I’m glad you agree.” I lean over to the cooler and pull out the thermos.
“It’s like the world has fully turned upside down, and I need it to get back to normal.
” I take a long swig—and wince. It’s one of Dad’s strongest batches yet.
Maybe Nate wasn’t far off in thinking it was lighter fluid.
“I mean, if I had it my way, I’d fully sabotage this whole wedding plan. ”
Nate laughs.
“I’m serious!” I laugh a little, too, though, the strong liquor loosening me up.
“What, like you wanna go all The Parent Trap on them?” he says, nudging me with his shoulder.
“Technically, in The Parent Trap, they’re trying to get their parents to fall back in love, not call it off.”
“Right, right,” he says, nodding. “The reference was a bit rusty. Been at least two or three months since I’ve seen that movie.”
I laugh again, accidentally spitting out tequila I’d just sipped. Mortified, I quickly wipe my mouth and pass him the thermos.
“I’m kidding. I don’t watch children’s movies. That would be weird,” he says, accepting it and taking a swig.
“I do,” I say. “Granted, I have a six-year-old niece and an eight-
year-old nephew, so I have an excuse. But I’m trying to get them into the classics.”
“Citizen Kane?” he says, completely serious—except for his eyes, which are dancing.
I snort. “More like Lady and the Tramp. That was always my favorite.”
Nate gives a slow nod, handing me back the thermos. “I can see it. You do give off Lady vibes.”
“Are you saying I look like a cocker spaniel?” I tease.
“No! Just like… put together. Classy.” Nate looks out at the water, as if lost in thought. “I have always wanted to try that spaghetti thing…”
I roll my eyes and elbow him until he looks back at me.
I can see the rim of dark blue surrounding his iris even in the growing darkness. The shadows bring out his wide cheekbones.