Page 27 of Never With You
Something’s off with Nate and this trip. He’s never this hands-on. Plus, Lyle referred to Pureskin as Nate’sbaby.
I lean back, suddenly interested in the behind-the-scenes. “How did you get this account anyway?”
“I have a contact over there.” His gaze drops, and he begins shuffling papers around his desk with no real purpose.
“Nowyou’rebeing weird.”
“I’m never weird.” His forced smile does little to cover up the bigger anxiety.
“Is it a woman?” As the question leaves my lips, jealousy pricks inside. It’s stupid, so I’ll never mention it again.
“A woman?” he sneers as if the suggestion is laughable.
“I nailed it on the head, didn’t I? You pimped yourself out to land this commission.”
Nate frowns.
I got him, and it feels so good.
“You’re right. It is because of a woman.” His head hangs in shame, adding to my glee. “The woman who was in charge of the event department…the one diagnosed with cancer…she’s my mom.”
“Oh, shoot. Nate.” I shake my head, trying to find the words to get my foot out of my mouth. “That was insensitive of me, and I feel awful. I’msosorry! Is there anything you need or anything I can do for your family?”
He raises his hand to his head and presses his thumb and index fingers over his eyes to stop the tears.
Tears,for crying out loud!
I’m such an idiot. I let my dislike of Nate override human decency.
You’re better than this, Carly.
“Nate, I really am sorry. I feel so stupid.”
“You should feel stupid.” His head pops up, showing off another teasing smile.
It takes a second to realize he’s razzing me.
“What kind of person lies about cancer?” I chuck a pad of sticky notes at him.
“Careful”—he smirks—“or you’ll get altitude sickness from your moral high horse.”
“Moral high horse? You’re the one joking about cancer.”
He picks up the sticky notes and throws them back in my direction. “You’re the one who suggested I pimped out my body to get a client.”
“Don’t act like you’re offended. It’s not a good look on you.”
“Don’t act like you care. It’s not a good look on you.”
“I don’t care.” I lift my chin to a snooty angle. “I just want to go to Thailand, even if I have to go with you.” I type a few things on my computer as a sign that we’re only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary.
After a few seconds of silence, Nate says, “It’s my dad.”
“Hmm?” I keep typing, proving my disinterest.
“My dad owns Pureskin. That’s how we got the job so last minute.”
I can’t pretend I’m not interested any longer.
