Page 78 of Never With You
Amusement plays across his expression. “And you don’t need any more?”
“Not really.” Hearing it out loud sounds horrible, but I can’t risk my heart again. I’m still recovering from the last time I became friends with my incredibly beguiling coworker.
“Hmm.” Nate’s brows fold together like he’s trying to puzzle me out. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to convince you, Carly Catterson.”
My steps pause. “Convince me of what?”
A sweet smile breaks across his lips, or maybe it only looks sweet because his aunts are in my head. His shoulders move up and down in a boyish way that’s endearing. “Convince you to like me.”
I blink back at him, stunned by his words.
Since when has Nate Farnsworth cared if I like him?
The train whistle blows, and everyone begins to move, ending our conversation. Vendors take down awnings and pull back tables of goods while tourists scramble to find a place to watch the show.
Nate’s hands go to my waist, pulling me to a spot behind the designated line. I stumble back until my body hits his chest. He doesn’t immediately let go, keeping his grip on my hips, making sure I’m safely out of the way. There’s a flurry of commotion, but not so much that I don’t feel the whirl of butterflies accompanying his touch. It would be easy to lean into him and let him fully wrap me up in his arms—not that that’s what I want to do. I’m just saying it would be easy.
Way too easy.
There’s another whistle, and the train jerks forward, slowly moving toward the market.
“Here we go,” he says into my ear, causing my stomach to flip over.
Train. Focus on the giant train coming toward you.
But no matter how much I tell myself to live in this moment, my mind is stuck on Nate’s stupid hands on my waist and his admission that he wants me to like him.
Three years ago,I saw a show on the Travel Channel about floating markets in Thailand. I was enchanted by the traditional wooden boats with long, narrow hulls and a metal rod that extends behind the boat into the water, propelling it forward. From that moment, riding a long-tail boat through a floating market became a bucket-list item for me.
I just never imagined I’d be going down the river, sitting next to my office rival.
Trust me, I tried to go alone in my own boat by myself, but there were too many watchful gazes on us. Nate’s aunts are their own crazy version ofMy Big Fat Greek Wedding, meddling in our relationship with their eyes every time I turn around.Not to mention, his parents are in the boat behind us, and Isaac and Lauren are in the boat in front of us.
It never ends.
So here we sit, floating down a canal in what I would normally deem a romantic situation. The seat is small, pressing our hips and thighs together. My arms fold across my lap to minimize the possibility of unnecessary handholding, even though the chance is low with Nate’s arm draped behind me on the seatback. We drift in silence because continuing our last conversation about convincing me to like him is out of the question. The topic has already been filed underThings I Never Want to Think or Talk About Again.
My gaze flips ahead to where Isaac is wrestling with an umbrella to block the afternoon sun from hitting the side of Lauren’s face. The boat sways back and forth as he awkwardly tries to find an angle that satisfies her. She hits his arm away, irritated by his incompetence.
Nate laughs beside me, noticing the same thing.
“Lauren gives me Veruca Salt vibes,” I say mostly to myself.
Nate’s voice morphs into a British accent. “But Isaac, I want shade right now!”
A grin crawls across my lips as I eye him. “You know who Veruca Salt is?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Willy Wonka.”The same British accent taints his words when he speaks again. “But Daddy! I want an Oompa-Loompa!”
“I don’t know why I’m so surprised. You are more child than man.”
“Better than always being an uptight adult,” he playfully barks back.
“If I’m so uptight, would I do this?” I reach over my side of the boat, slapping the water hard, sending a splash in Nate’s direction.
He turns his head away, but it’s no use. Water douses him.
“You don’t want to start this with me, Carly.” His expression is cocky.
