Page 56 of Some Like It Hott

“Now what?” he asks, and for a split second I think he’s asking what we’re supposed to do with all our pent-up chemistry. But then he clarifies, “I found my fun—now what?”

I swallow, my mouth dry. “You use that knowledge to fuel your fifty-things brainstorming list.”

He nods at that.

I’m not disappointed. I’m not.

Kissing Preston won’t work out for you.

I know it’s true. But I’m starting to hate that it is.

When we get backto Hott Springs Eternal and the lodge, Preston follows me into the elevator. I’ve never thought of these elevators as particularly small—but this one feels tiny now. He’s just such a big guy, and I can smell all the clean parts of his scent—shampoo and soap and deodorant—and the darker, muskier parts, too, from a day of effort. Equally, if not more, delicious. It makes me breathless, how close he feels. I struggle not to let him see it, the hard pull of air into my lungs, the rise and fall of my chest.

“So what were your favorite parts of Bouncy Town?” I ask to distract myself from the way he shrinks the elevator.

He gives it serious thought. I’m expecting him to say it was bouncy basketball or the trampoline or the foam pit because those were the moments when he came to life, but he says, “When you got us the cake.”

“Why that?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He hesitates, and the pause feels heavy. Freighted. Like whatever he’s about to say next will change…everything.

Instead, the elevator door opens, and I see my mom standing outside my hotel room door, leaning against the wall. I can tell she’s come straight from work, gold hoops through her ear lobes, long graying hair in a bun, a stiffness in her posture left over from saving lives and making split-second decisions.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter, under my breath.

“What?” he asks.

“That’s my mom.”

“And that’s…a bad thing?”

“Long story,” I say. “It’s a complicated thing.”

We step out of the elevator together, and my mom’s eyes take in both of us, sweaty and disheveled from our day of bouncing—no sex joke there. My mother wouldn’t laugh, even if there were. “Hello, Natalie,” she says, her voice cool, the way it almost always is.

“Hi, Mom. Mom, this is Preston Hott, my colleague. Preston, this is my mom, Anthea Archer.”

He holds out his hand to shake, and she takes it. I imagine their clasp is the world gold-medal winner for firm, confident handshakes because neither Preston nor my mom would accept anything less.

“So you’re one of the brothers with the…unusual will.”

For my mom, that’s pretty mild, and I’m sure she considered and discarded quite a few other words before she chose that one, likeabsurdandlegally indefensibleandoutrageous.

“That’s me,” Preston says. “Natalie and I are working together on meeting the terms of the will, and also on building a great program for Hott Springs Eternal.”

My mother’s expensively groomed eyebrows arch. “So I hear. Natalie’s lucky to have your help. Not many activities planners get to benefit from the insight and expertise of a New York investment banker.”

Preston’s face doesn’t change. His voice doesn’t, either. When he speaks again, it’s polite—friendly, even—and level. He says, “Oh, but it’s exactly the opposite of that, Mrs. Archer. I’m lucky to have hers. There’s no way I’d be able to make any of this happen without her. What Natalie does is way harder than she makes it look and far more valuable than rearranging the wealth of the top one percent. Bringing lots of people joy isn’t something everyone can do. And there aren’t many people who would do it with as much grace and good humor, not to mention imagination, as she does. I’m very much the lowly assistant in this scenario.” And then he turns to me. “Thank you so much for all your help today, Natalie. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re so open to helping my family with our situation.”

He turns back to my mom. “I don’t want to intrude on your time with your daughter,” he says. “I’ll leave you two to your chat. But it was lovely to meet you.”

And then, without giving my mom a moment to respond, he unlocks his room and disappears into it.

28

Preston

“Hey,” someone says behind me.

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