Page 17 of The Wrong Side Of Us

The woman smiled, and she stepped forward, stretching out her hand towards Deborah, who hesitantly took it.

“I’m Jesse Mitchell. You must be Nathan’s mother, Deborah, right?”

“Right.” Deborah smiled, though it seemed like a grimace.

Carter and Frank went on to introduce themselves while Nathan approached me, his arm traveling around my waist.

“This is Evelyn,” Nathan said proudly.

“Ah,” Jesse said with a smile, one that was as fake as her breasts. “So you are the world-famous Evelyn Carson.” She stretched out her hand, and I took it just out of politeness. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I tried, I really did try, to suppress the level of pettiness that was about to leave my lips. “I can’t say the same about you,” I stated.

Deborah snorted next to me while Carter and Frank stepped back, as if dreading whatever fight was about to ensue. Nathan gripped my waist tighter, but there was an amused glint in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Jesse short for something?”

Unfazed, Jesse replied, “Jessica.”

“Of course,” I said. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Is it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Her response surprised me.

“Oh…kay…” Nathan said, dragging out the word. He squeezed my hand gently, glancing back towards the office. “Let me check out the painting Jessica needs to show me, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Nathan leaned down, cupped my cheek in his hand, and kissed me to reassure me. “I’ll be back,” he whispered before pressing a final kiss on my cheek.

Ironically, that bit of PDA was enough to do away with the uncertain feeling that had settled in my chest.

Nathan turned around and followed behind an apprehensive Jessica. Part of me felt I’d been too harsh without knowing the woman; he could befriend women and I wouldn’t mind. I never did.

But the way Jesse looked at him spoke volumes.

“I don’t like her,” I heard Deborah say next to me. I turned to face her, and once again she repeated the words from earlier to me. “A mom always knows.”

Not even five minutes later, Nathan walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lowering his lips to my ear. “We have a little conversation pending, now don’t we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Feigning innocence, I looked at the painting in front of us.

“You’re jealous,” he whispered.

“So what if I am?”

I felt him grin against my skin. “We do need to talk, though.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “Tell me about this painting.”

As much as I wanted to hear, I was also enjoying the feel of his lips tenderly kissing my skin.

“Do you see the colors?” he asked, running a hand down my arm.

“Mm, yeah.”

“Shades of red,” he teased, his voice low in my ear. I swallowed, forcing the thoughts that flooded my mind away. “Passion…anger…lust. Kind of what you’re feeling right now.”

Thankful that everyone was at the other side of the gallery, I let out a soft gasp when he bit down gently on my neck. “I like a jealous woman,” he whispered.

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