Page 28 of Never With You
My jaw drops. “Your dad owns Pureskin?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re, like, a millionaire?”
“No.” There’s annoyance on his breath. “My dad is, but I’m not.”
“Oh, please! That’s what every rich kid says, expecting us to believe that all that money isn’t eventually going to trickle down to them.”
“It probably won’t, and I don’t even want his money if it does.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re a nepo baby.” I laugh. “It all makes sense now. That’s who’s funding your extended childhood.”
“You’re just jealous because my lifestyle is infinitely more exciting than yours.”
“Sorry, I don’t put stock into what guys with a Peter Pan complex think.”
“Maybe I only act like a child around you. You’re adulting hard enough for everyone.”
“Unlike you, who’s refusing to be an adult. As the founder of a global company, I’m sure your dad is real proud of your laziness.”
Something different crosses over Nate’s face, like I hit a nerve. “I hardly speak to my dad,” he scoffs, masking whatever emotion I just saw. “He’s a little too intense for me—kind of like you, actually. You two would get along great. You could make to-do lists and pretend like you’re better than everyone because of how responsible you are.”
I definitely struck a nerve.
This is the first time in the eight and a half months I’ve worked with Nate that there’s been a real bite to his jabs. Usually, his tone is a playful tease.
Remorse spills over me, so I try to move the conversation along.
“If your dad is going to love me, maybe he’ll hire us to run all of his events from here on out.”
“My dad won’t even be there. The executive incentive trip is beneath him. And even if he were in attendance, he’d never hire Voyager Travel because I work here. He doesn’t trust me with that kind of responsibility.” There’s a noticeable bitterness to his words. “This is a one-time job. He’s already looking for someone new to be his in-house event coordinator.”
“If he won’t consider us for future trips, why is it so important to you that we impress him?”
“It just is.” He scoots into his desk, fiddling with his computer mouse, and I can tell that’s all the information I’m going to get on this topic.
What do I do with that information anyway? Nate’s strained relationship with his dad is the first sign of weakness I’ve seen from him since I started working here. It humanizes him more than I want. Just like how I don’t want Nate to know me, I don’t want to know him. It complicates my straightforward dislike, and I use that dislike as a shield to protect myself.
“Where are we on company gifts?” he asks, like he’s finally interested in getting some work done.
“They already ordered the swag. We just need to choose daily pillow gifts.” I grab a piece of paper from the event folder and read the written notes on it. “We can pick up the finished swag and finalize the pillow gifts at the end of next week.”
“Except, we’re not calling thempillow giftsbecause that sounds cheesy. From now on, they’reroom drops.”
The barbed glare I point at him shows my irritation. “Why did you choose me as your event coordinator if you’re going to nitpick and micromanage everything I say and do?”
“Because you’re the best.” His words aren’t accompanied by any emotion or a charming smile. They’re just words, making it hard to believe he really means them, but I’d be lying if I said his compliment didn’t thrill me a little.
Actually, it thrills me so much that it scares me, so I throw his words back at him. “Yeah, I’m the best because I always save the day for you.” I flick my chin up. “Just promise me, with this trip, I won’t have to clean up all your messes.”
“You love cleaning up my messes.” He leans back in his chair, a smug expression on his face. “It gives you a sense of pride and accomplishment.”
The fact that Nate has read me like an open book is a little unsettling.
