Page 5 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

Max launches into a breathless account of their afternoon, from heroic escapades with Boomer to imagined pirate battles in the backyard. His eyes sparkle with each tale, and I nod. I'm thoroughly entertained by his vivid imagination.

Nate glances over, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Sounds like quite the adventure,” he remarks dryly, stirring a pot.

“It was epic!” Max assures, then turns to me,

“Liz, did you have adventures today too?”

“Nothing as exciting as yours,” I admit, smiling down at him. Turning to Nate, I ask,

“Need a hand?”

He shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“No, dinner’s almost ready. Have a seat.”

Max chatters on as Nate plates up a fun arrangement of grilled chicken and colorful vegetables. The plate, I realize has cartoon characters. I can't believe how much time it took to do that and what love Nate must put into everything he does for his son. I help myself to the food Nate sets out, impressed by his culinary skills.

“This is really good, Nate. You sure do cook well,” I comment after a few bites.

“Had to learn,” he replies, focusing on serving Max.

“It’s a necessary skill.”

As dinner progresses, the atmosphere shifts subtly. Max’s joyful demeanor fills the room, but it's Nate’s next question that catches me off guard.

“So, what brings you back to town, Liz?”

I pause, a forkful of food halfway to my mouth. His gaze is intense, probing, as if he’s looking for something beneath the surface of my answer.

“I needed a break,” I say, my voice even.

Nate’s gaze doesn’t waver, and I notice a curious heat crawl up my neck. His look is too intense, too focused, as if he can see through the half-truth.

“Does that mean you won’t be staying long?” he asks, a hint of something undefinable in his tone.

His words sting, and my defenses rise.

“If I’m in your way, I can find a motel—”

“That’s not what I meant,” he interjects, his expression tightening as he speaks.

"Well, it doesn't seem like it," I hold his gaze even those his eyes are making every inch of my body tingle I don't back down. Finally, he takes his eyes away and mumbled an almost inaudible sorry.

The rest of the meal passes in an uneasy silence. When dinner ends, I stand to clear the dishes, but Nate stops me.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

I meet his gaze, my response tinged with sass.

“I insist. You cooked; I can at least clean up. It’s no trouble.”

"And I insist that you're a guest in my house,"

He reaches for the dishes and our hands brush as I gather up a plate. I jump startled as a surprising jolt of electricity shoots through me. Nate withdraws his hand as if burned, his eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion.

Max’s voice breaks the moment.

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