Page 50 of Never With You
“Uh…” He drops his eyes to the bags and clears his throat. “I actually thought you looked nice.”
Nice?
He probably wants something from me, and his compliment is a ploy to butter me up.
“What is it?” I put my hand on my hip.
“What is what?”
“You want something from me, don’t you? What is it? Is there something with the trip you forgot that I now have to do?”
The muscle in his jaw tightens. “Forget I said something.”
My arm drops, and I open my mouth to speak, but Nate walks to the baggage claim, leaving me standing alone.
That was a strange encounter, right? I didn’t misinterpret our conversation, did I? All the friendly, joking aspects vanish, and the usual tension seeps into the gaps, and I don’t understand why. Or maybe I do. Maybe I know I was a little harsh jumping to conclusions.
I’m too tired to figure it out. I need to get to the hotel and go to bed so I’m ready to work tomorrow. Nate and I have one day to arrange everything before the trip officially begins, and the executives show up.
And then it’s showtime.
The first guestshave just arrived in Bangkok. After checking in at the hotel front desk, they direct them to our hospitality desk in the lobby, which has been specifically set up for Pureskin employees.
We greet them with a smile, a welcome bag, and a trip itinerary. Then, we tell them to meet back in the lobby at six p.m. to leave for our welcome dinner cruise on the river.
Nate and I do all this in between sparring. As soon as a guest leaves, our smiles drop, and the boxing gloves come back on. The friendly joking through text that happened during our travel day is a thing of the past.
The battle of wills began yesterday when we were getting organized and preparing for the arrivals. Nate believes I have unrealistic expectations of perfection, while I think he’s a lazy do-nothing who enjoys critiquing everything I do. That’s the gist that has carried over to the hospitality desk today.
“Did you move the sunglasses to the pillow gift in Phuket?” I glance from my checklist to Nate.
“Room drop, not pillow gifts,” he corrects as he sits back in his chair with arms folded and legs outstretched.
“Well, did you do it?” My pen hovers over the line item, waiting to cross it off.
His head slowly turns to me. His gaze is both smug and irritated. “Yes.”
Another item crossed off. “And don’t forget that we need to change the push notifications on the Chapstick day to something a little more clever.”
“I’ve been running trips and events for four years. I don’t need you following me around with a clipboard, triple-checking everything I do. It’s annoying.”
“And”—my face hardens as I purposely continue going down my checklist—“we need to make sure the river cruise has a microphone cord long enough to reach the head table for the welcome dinner tonight.”
“Traveling with you is my worst nightmare.” He glances away, bored and annoyed with my presence.
“And you think I want to be here with you?” I drop my clipboard on the table with a huff. “You’re the last person in the world I’d want to spend time with.”
“The feeling is mutual.” The sentiment was said under his breath, but I heard it.
We spend the next few minutes in hateful silence while I fume over his actions. Normally, there’s a hint of a smile or tease behind most insults Nate throws at me. From the beginning, I’m the one who has put the bite behind our communication. I had to if my heart wanted to survive. But the last two days have been different, and I don’t know why, and it’s bothering me. A little niggle in my heart, a nagging feeling that I don’t like.
Nate suddenly sits up, swearing.
The abruptness causes me to jump and lean away. “What?”
He looks around in a panic and then drops to the ground, hiding under the tablecloth.
I bend over. “What are you doing?”
