Page 62 of Never With You
I eye him. “Only if restraining orders are part of your love language.”
His smile stretches wide with charm. “Nah, I’m a physical-touch man.”
“Not in this relationship, you aren’t.”
“Then this whole charade won’t be believable. Everyone in my family, my parents, my aunts and uncles…”—he points around, reminding me how many Pureskin execs he’s related to—“they all know I’m a touchy-feely guy. So physical touch will be part of the job requirement.”
“Fine, but I sign off on everything.”
“Please tell me you’re not going to micromanage this fake relationship like you do with everything else, because if that’s the case, I’d rather just come clean with my parents now.”
“You’re the micromanager. And this whole fake-relationship thing was your idea.”
“No, no, no.” He shakes his head. “I merely suggested it. You’re the one who draped yourself on me.”
“I was playing a part, trying to be convincing. How about a thank you for saving you in front of your parents?”
“Don’t pretend like you did that for me. I saw the way you checked to make sure Isaac was watching.”
My mouth snaps shut. Guilty as charged.
“So now that we’re in this mess that neither of us wants to be in, what’s the play?” he asks again with folded arms. “Assuming you can pull this off and be somewhat believable.”
“Me?” My head kicks back. “Why wouldn’t I be believable?”
“Because you have one mode, and it’s not the soft-and-charming-girlfriend mode.” His brows lift in his judgy way. “Not even close.”
“I’ll be just fine. You worry about yourself and your own acting skills.”
“No worries there. I’m an excellent actor.”
“Right,” I scoff. “Like you’re excellent at remembering details?”
“Just tell me the terms you’ll agree to.”
“The terms?”
“Yeah, like the rules you’ll probably type into a fifty-page document and slide it under my door tonight. Let’s just get it over with now.”
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to make a list or a plan. The more we think about this fake relationship, the bigger this whole thing becomes. I need this not to be a big deal, just an in-and-out situation where nobody gets hurt—especially me.
“There won’t be a fifty-page document. You’re a big enough boy to figure this out on your own.” I turn back to the view, holding onto the railing. “Let’s just keep touching and other things to a minimum.” I have no desire to elaborate on whatotherthingsmight mean. “Those are my terms and what I sign off on.”
“Define minimum.”
“Whatever we deem absolutely necessary to pull off this whole charade.”
Nate takes a step forward, and the mood between us shifts. Even the tone of his voice feels different, grittier. “Is handholding absolutely necessary?”
“At times.” My eyes flip to the side in a panic, and my fingers grip the railing tighter. I watch his slow moves with dread and a little anticipation.
Leaning his hip against the rail, he faces me, sultry eyes fixed on mine. “What about a hand on a leg or around a shoulder?”
“Under the right circumstances, I guess it’s okay.”
“Caressing?”
I still, sucking in a ragged breath.
