Page 58 of The Story of Us
“Eloise?” Worry was etched in the way Nate said her name.
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
“You’re trembling. What’s going on? The splinters aren’t bad. Honestly.”
She ducked her head, staring at the scuff marks on the front of her sneakers. “I’ve made a huge mistake. And I hate needles. All of them. Sewing ones. Doctor’s ones.” She sniffed and mortifyingly, a few tears escaped.
“Hey, hey.” Nate wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close, right up against his chest. A hint of his body wash lingered around him, mixing with the scent of sweat and freshly cut wood. He’d been working hard out here. She let him guide her towards the house, dead leaves crunching as they walked.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise I’ll be gentle. Or”—Nate paused, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed—“I can call Joanie or your mum. Take you to them? Whatever you need, I’ll do it. I’ll always do what you need, okay?”
His niceness,his Nate-nessmade her tears fall more steadily.
“It’s not just the splinters. I mean, I do hate them. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.” Professor Armstrong was going to be so annoyed. And Joanie? The disappointment on her grandmother’s face would be brutal to witness.
Another sob escaped, transforming into a long, shuddery breath. What a disaster. No way she could survive on her own overseas. Here she was, going to pieces over a few splinters. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when everything was dark and still, Eloise could admit to herself that her desire for adventure was nothing more than a ruse. It was a way to justify how she let her previous experiences dictate how she lived her life. Wattle Junction was home, and the thought of leaving it—even temporarily—terrified her.
Nate stopped and waited until she looked at him. “I hate getting my hair cut.”
Eloise’s eyes grew wide. “What?”
“It’s the clippers.” His shoulders gave an adorable little shake that vibrated through their clothes, rumbling over her skin. “The way they feel. Like they’re going to pull my hair out. I know they won’t. I understand how they work, but I just can’t. It’s why I keep my hair longer, so I don’t have to use them. Now you know something embarrassing about me.”
Could Nate be any nicer? No, he couldn’t. “Thank you, Nate.”
“It’ll be our little secret.”
Nate led her into his room, past his neatly made bed and into the large ensuite filled with charcoal and ashy tones. The full-size window next to the vanity looked out over the Wattle River.
“You’ve really leant into this whole no neighbours thing,” Eloise said, hovering in the doorway.
“Huh?” Nate opened the second drawer and rummaged around in it.
“That’s a big window for a bathroom.”
A less respectful woman might’ve made a note to take an amble around the cabin the next time Nate showered.
“It’s special glass. You can’t see through it from the outside.” No stealth walkies for Eloise and Echo, then.
“Up you hop.” He patted the space next to the sink, not himself.Unfortunately.He arranged a pair of tweezers, some antiseptic, plasters and a small sewing kit on the dark grey marble vanity.
Eloise scooted as close to the basin as she could, holding her hand out, palm up. Nate boxed in her legs with his own as he got as close as possible. She swallowed and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth.
“I’m going to try and get them all out with tweezers first, okay? If you want me to stop, say the word and I will.”
Eloise’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, and she nodded as Nate slipped his hand under hers. He was so close that all she could smell was him, feel the warmth of his body. She wouldn’t think about him in the shower. How the water would glide over his chest, his arms, his …
“That’s one,” he whispered.
“What?” She blinked.
“And another. See. I’m good at this.”
She’d bet Nate was good ateverything.He was so generous in every facet of his life, always making time for everyone who approached him and asked for help. He probably had the perfect boyfriend dick too. It was a damn shame he was determined not to be anyone’s boyfriend because he would be so good at it. Not just the physical stuff, either. Slowly, he was coming out of his shell.
Eloise lowered her gaze and studied his long eyelashes, the angle of his cheekbones, the shadow of tomorrow’s beard on his cheeks. The cool metal bit at Eloise’s skin and she tensed automatically.
“Sorry,” Nate murmured, his breath warming her palm. “This one’s going to need the needle. Just a little so I can get to it properly. Ready?”
