Page 1 of The Story of Us
1
“We have a problem.”
Nate’s deep voice washed over Eloise, but instead of the deep timbre that always gave her goosebumps, his tone was laced with panic.
“I need you …” he whispered.
Ooof.There went her heart. How many times had she imagined those words falling from his pillowy, way-too-kissable-looking lips? She shook herself free, shivering when his palm slipped to the small of her back. Score a point for Alice, Eloise’s best friend, for insisting on the backless pale pink dress with billowy sleeves and a thigh-high split that had forced Eloise to think about her underwear choicesverycarefully.
“… to stop your grandmother from signing me up for Tinder.”
Okay. It wasn’tthisexact moment she’d imagined happening.
She flashed a placating smile at her grandmother Joanie who winked at them from across the living room of Eloise’s parents’ house. “The worst thing you can do is show fear. She can smell it.” Eloise inspected her fingernails for any traces of paint left underneath them. She’d switched her afternoon client sessions for extra art classes at Kathleen’s Place—where she was the in-house social worker and wannabe art therapist—in an attempt to calm her own nerves about tonight’s festivities.
Eloise tilted her head towards Nate and swallowed the sigh that wanted to burst out of her mouth. Christ, he looked good enough to eat. RIP to the Tinder servers if Joanie ever succeeded in setting up his account. On anyone else, a dark grey suit and Converse sneakers would look fine, but on Nate? She regretted not bringing a fan with her to this ridiculous dinner celebrating her brother Charlie’s upcoming wedding. She allowed herself exactly three seconds to savour the hint of stubble along Nate’s jawline, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. His chin-length hair curled at the ends, a few strands dipping over one eye as he leant towards her.
It was official.
Seeing him in a tuxedo at the wedding was going to cause a tropical weather event in her panties. Her brown eyes tangled with his whisky-coloured ones for a second before his gaze dropped to her feet.
His Adam’s apple bobbed again when he saw the skyscraper heels Alice had also insisted she wear. She made a mental note to pick up several bottles of Alice’s favourite rosé as a thank you.
“She wrote in my profile that I’m a retired tight hooker looking to score.” Nate ran his hand through his hair. Would she ever be able to look at him and not wonder if those chocolatey strands would make excellent reins?
“There’s no such thing as a tight hooker. Not in the NFL, which she conveniently didn’t mention I played in, so it looks like … well, it looks bad.”
Nate groaned softly, but Eloise was close enough to hear it, to feel his breath on her skin.
This was such typical Joanie behaviour. A chuckle caught in the back of Eloise’s throat, but she stopped it from escaping, schooling her face so it was blank.
Nate glowered at her, but there was a whisper of his usual affable personality when his lips twitched. “It’s not funny.”
“Please. A big, strong, ex-tight end—which sounds dirty no matter how you dress it up because most Australians don’t know anything about American football—who’s scared of someone with a Metamucil subscription? It’s a little funny and exactly what I needed to hear before this ridiculousness kicks off.” Eloise gestured out the window where her parents, Mary and Michael, were putting the finishing touches on the tables.
Tonight was the first in a whole swag of events for Charlie and his fiancée Sera’s upcoming wedding, and Eloise was already over it. Wattle Junction might be a cosy little town west of Melbourne, but it was also the biggest gossip mill in the southern hemisphere. At least, that’s how it had felt these last few months in the lead-up to the wedding. The sooner all of this was over, the better.
“The Old Girls are just looking for their next victims. I’ll sort Joanie out later, I promise,” Eloise said. It wasn’t much consolation, though. Everyone knew the group of local women dubbed the Old Girls Gossip Brigade were impossible to control. “Come on, you can help me in the kitchen. I want to make another batch of the arrival cocktails so there’s plenty and make sure the centrepieces are perfect.”
Nate exhaled, muttering about the matriarchs who filled their days trying to make sure all the singles in Wattle Junction were on the path to true love. But really, he couldn’t complain too much. His mother, Lulu, was one of the ringleaders.
In a parallel universe, Eloise would’ve pushed up onto her toes and pressed her cheek against his. Filled her lungs with the fresh, woody scent she’d forever associate with him. She’d slide her fingers under the lapels of his perfectly fitted suit and whisper that he was hers and no one else’s. Throw in a flirty wink for good measure. Maybe even suggest they sneak off and have a little party of their own with a significantly less formal dress code.
But Nate’s eyes darkened, and his frown returned, chasing away her fantasy.
Because they didn’t do that.
Friendsdidn’t do that.
* * *
Nate suckedin his breath as Eloise pushed past him, her long skirt billowing. He trailed her into the Hamilton family home’s kitchen, fixating on the back of her dress. Which didn’t exist. At all.
All that covered Eloise’s back was a small pink string tied in a dainty bow in the centre of her spine. And there was nothing dainty about Eloise Hamilton. It was one of the things he liked best about her.
Nate swallowed. This dress and the heels he’d spied earlier? Her outfit was officially a declaration of war against his ability to be a good guy and a good friend. To Charlie, his best mate since he was thirteen. And to her. Because even if most of the time Nate and Eloise spent together was at Kathleen’s Place, the local community home he was always finding an excuse to visit, theywerefriends now too. Had been ever since Eloise had been one of the few people who made a genuine effort to welcome him home without any expectations. Maybe they weren’t as close as Nate was with his brothers and Charlie, but that was because of his issues. Not hers. It wasn’t lost on him that any day he saw her became the best day.
He pulled at his collar. Why was it so damn hot in here? Winter had been flirting with Wattle Junction for a few weeks, and this morning’s frost had been the first of the season. But now? He’d swear it was the middle of summer. Charlie’s loud curse pulled Nate from his thoughts.
