Page 48 of Some Like It Hott

He scowls. “It’s what I need to do.”

To best my grandfather,he doesn’t say, but now I know that’s how the sentence ends.

The things Preston’s grandfather said to him, about how it would end badly with his ex-wife and about how he’d never succeed in New York—those things hadn’t been only gauntlets thrown down.

They’d hurt Preston deeply. His grandfather’s lack of support and faith.

He’s wrapped his whole life around that hurt and refused himself anything good until he proves his grandfather wrong, like that will undo the words and the hurt, too.

I hope he’s right. I hope it will. Because I don’t like the idea of Preston hurting, not at all. I hate it so much, it clenches my stomach.

I think of him laughing in the Jell-O pit, before he wasn’t laughing anymore. He’s wrong. Hecanhave fun. He just needs to let himself.

“I have an idea,” I say. “I’m calling it Operation Fun.”

He looks startled and slightly…terrified. Which is further proof that he needs help desperately.

“Basically, we’ll figure out how to make you have fun again.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Good luck with that,” he says dryly.

“Did you just make a self-deprecating joke?” I ask, feigning astonishment.

“I do make jokes. Just like I do sometimes apologize.”

But he doesn’t sound pissed. He sounds wry and, again, self-deprecating. And it’s…charming.

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking.” Ideas flood my brain as I look at him, immaculately dressed, buttoned up, a softball pitch to the part of me that lives to make other people have a good time. “We figure out whatwouldbe fun for you, with a little trial and error. We can throw out ideas?—”

“We’ve already established that when it comes to ideas about what’s fun, I’m stunted.”

“Notstunted. Just…out of practice.”

The corners of his mouth turn up, and there I go again, melting. For a guy who kissed me just for fun and then told me that was all it could be.

Come on, Natalie. Focus.“We try a bunch of things out, and in the process, maybe we get your mind opened up for brainstorming and help ourselves out with the planning process.”

“Okaaaay…” He still looks apprehensive, but he nods.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” he squawks, which makes me laugh.

“Yes,tomorrow,” I say. “AsWhen Harry Met Sallysays, ‘When you find something that might be fun for you, you want the fun to start right away.’”

“I don’t think that’s a real quote.”

“It applies, though, don’t you think? And also, aren’t you the one snapping your fingers to try to hurry up this whole operation?”

“True,” he concedes. “I was going to do some work tomorr?—”

“Uh-uh-uh,” I caution, waving a finger at him.

“I’m free,” he amends. Those unruly mouth corners are doing their thing again.

Then he frowns, his brows drawing together, and looks down at his watch. “I need to get going.”

He closes his laptop and stands.

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