Chapter 10 #2
“You didn’t give your manager my manuscript. I saw you leave it behind.” My voice picked up strength as my heart thudded in my ears. Now he’d admit it. Say it wasn’t good. Say he’d been playing me—
He shook his head. “I went to the back to get Emily. But by the time I returned, you’d already abandoned your very bad stakeout point.”
“What?”
“I could see you the whole time. I hope you never have to hide for your life. You’re terrible at it.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.
I pressed my fingers against my eyes. “Wait… what?”
He shrugged. Our legs still touched. Neither of us moved. “I thought it’d be better if she met you in person. But I made her read it anyway.”
“You did give her the manuscript?”
“Of course I did.” He shook his head like I was ridiculous. “You thought I hadn’t?”
“I thought I got through on my own.” I looked away, toward the dark windowpanes. My head felt like it was wrapped in cotton.
“I’m sure you would’ve. If you could stick to a timeline, that is.” He paused, then grinned. “Is that why you’ve been throwing murdery eyes at me 24/7?”
“No, that’s just part of my natural charm,” I said, though the words lacked their usual bite.
“Emily wasn’t exactly thrilled, but I said I’d pay for dinner and… that was that.”
That was that.
I sank back onto the couch with a thud.
He brushed a hand across his mouth. “You really thought I wouldn’t even try?”
Yes. That’s exactly what I’d thought. Because it fit. It fit the story I’d written in my head. It fit who he was.
And now the narrative was shifting under my feet. I stared at him, unsettled. He looked… different. Still made of the same pieces, but somehow clearer. Sharper. Like someone had wiped the fog off a mirror. A different kind of John.
“I guess a little competition’s good for my work stamina.”
I scowled. Nope. I hadn’t been wrong. Still arrogant. Still full of himself.
My phone buzzed, its sudden glow slicing through the moment.
I picked it up and squinted. It was Otis.
omg omg omg. You will NOT believe—
I smiled.
“Is that your boyfriend, Nora Rose?” The voice across from me was low and amused.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said automatically—then instantly regretted it. Not his business. And he'd used my full name. He must’ve heard more of the conversation with Mom than he’d let on.
“Oh?” His smile faded to a smirk. “So you lied to your mom?”
Thanks for the guilt trip, Mr. Shitbag.
“That little collage—was that for her?”
I huffed. “I don’t have an explanation that isn’t completely mortifying, so I’m choosing not to answer you right now.”
He didn’t even blink. Just watched me.
“I can keep your little secret, Nora. I don’t have to tell the others how obsessed you are with me.”
I cracked. “My mom can’t know I’m here. In this competition. So I told her I was on a trip with my boyfriend. Your name came up. Don’t” —I held up a finger— “ask me why.”
Silence spread between us like a heavy fog. It filled all the corners of the room. My knee started bouncing. I thought I may burst.
“So what? You’re not going to tease me?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, John Kater did something terrifying.
He stood in one smooth motion and dropped onto the couch beside me, an arm wrapping around my shoulders.
I froze. “What… are you doing?” I asked, bewildered. Not daring to look at him. He was way too close.
“We’re taking a picture for your mom,” he said, giving me a squeeze in emphasis.
“We are?”
He nodded at my phone. “Don’t want to disappoint her now, do we?”
I had to look at him. Mistake. That close, I registered the heat radiating from him. The pressure of his thigh against mine. And his scent—clean, woodsy, a little spicy. It infiltrated my space in a good way,
NO, bad thoughts, Nora. Yes, he smelled lush and mouth-watering. But nothing about this was good.
He picked up my phone and handed it to me, his thigh brushing mine as he moved. Then he leaned back into the sofa, pulling me with him.
My finger hovered over the camera icon. If I sent a picture, Mom would be thrilled. But John would have leverage.
“What’s in it for you?”
“Maybe I want to make someone jealous.”
“Bond Girl? Hate to break it to you, but she’d hardly be threatened by me.”
“So you are stalking me,” he said, but I caught the stiffness in his shoulders. A sore spot. Maybe Buzzfeed wasn’t totally wrong about trouble in paradise.
“Yes, I’m entirely obsessed with you,” I said flatly, switching to selfie mode.
It was dark. We looked soft-edged, a little tired, but charged. His eyes sparkled. My cheeks glowed.
He rested his jaw lightly against my temple. His stubble tickled something low in my stomach.
I tensed.
His hand brushed down my arm, slow and casual, while I adjusted the camera.
“Relax. It’s just a picture.”
I forced a smile. One that said, Hey Mom, sorry I forgot to text, we were too busy making out.
The camera clicked.
The photo was a disaster. Blurry. We did not look in love. I looked like a hostage held at gunpoint.
“We can do better than that.” He took the phone out of my hand, brushing my fingers slightly. I knew what he was doing. Trying to throw me off my game, trying to play his charm card and confuse the poor young woman, make her unable to concentrate on the task at hand. Distract the competition.
I felt a flicker of pity for his poor, stunning fiancée.
Instead of focusing on the way he smelled, I imagined his outsides reflecting his insides. I imagined boils underneath his shirt. Red, seeping open wounds that would render any attractive person gross. I sighed. Yeah, that helped.
“Ready?” he asked, holding the phone in a flattering angle.
An idea struck. A stupid one. I decided to tip the scales.
“Sure.” And just as the shutter clicked, I grabbed his jaw, leaned in, and kissed his cheek.
I felt him start. His breath caught—sharp—and it lit something electric between my thighs.
But I’d already snatched the phone from his hand, flipping through the photos to hide the tremble in mine.
John shifted, pulling his arm away. My lips still tingled where they’d touched his skin, but his reaction gave me a flicker of triumph. I’d surprised him. Shaken him, maybe.
Two can play this game, mister.
I sent the picture to Mom, attaching on a heart emoji to seal the lie.
John stood abruptly. “I should get to bed. It’s late.”
I glanced at the sky outside the window where a thin line of gray split the darkness. “Barely enough time left for your much-needed beauty sleep.”
He left without another word.
I’d never imagined I could sit with John Kater for an entire evening—speak to him, even—without throttling him. Yet here I was.
And also… I’d kissed him.
I took a breath, curling deeper into the pillow that still smelled like him. Suddenly, I was too warm. I raked a hand through my hair.
A shadow moved beside me. I jumped.
John was back. He handed me a steaming cup of tea.
I blinked at him, perplexed. “Is it poisoned?”
He picked up my cold tea from the table and walked out of the room.
“Good night, Nora.”