It makes me stupid, but I can’t help the way my thoughts are changing for Nate. The first few days he was an intruder into my home driving me insane, but there’s this other part of him. The sweet part. I know the way we’ve been acting as a couple today has all been a show for my mother, but a part of me wishes it were true.
I’m worried I’m falling in love.
Which is absolutely ridiculous. First, I promised myself I’d never fall in love again. Second, I’ve only known the man like a hot minute. He could still be a serial killer and I wouldn’t even know. Third… I don’t have a third, but I’m sure I’ll come up with one, eventually. There must be something wrong with him.
I lean against the thick archway of the kitchen and realize for the first time in a few days my ribs don’t ache with the sudden movement. I’m feeling better. A lot better. I’ll also need the crutches for my sprained ankle for another week, but the bruising in my ribs and knee is almost gone. The skin is an ugly yellow color, but I no longer have much pain at all. If I was a better woman, I’d tell Nate it’s safe to go home. I won’t press charges and I can get along on my own at this point, especially with my mother here.
But I don’t want to let him off the hook. I don’t want Nate to leave. Even if that makes me the most selfish person in Pelican Bay, I want more time with him.
A loud squeal seeps out from the bathroom followed by a harsh, “Now, Emma,” from my mother and the smile I had while watching Nate fades.
“I’ll go distract my mom,” I whisper just in case she still has bat-like hearing. “When the cookies get here, put them on a cookie sheet and pop them in the oven so they’re nice and warm when you pull them out.”
My mother won’t get over the fact Nate knows how to make cookies nor the fact that I’m eating sugar.
Nate smiles and leans down, kissing me on the forehead even though my mother isn’t in the room. “We make a good team, snookums.”
He’s right. We are a great team together.
One I’m not ready to quit yet.
“Don’t ripout the cabinets! They’re fine!” What is this woman thinking? She could paint those and they’d look brand-new. This decision will kill her budget.
The TV show cuts to a commercial break and the reality of my situation sets in like a sinking brick. It’s a Saturday night and I’m yelling at the television while watching a show on HGTV. And the worst part is my mother isn’t even here. She left two hours ago when Barry picked up Emma for his weekend visitation and I haven’t changed the channel. After spending fifteen minutes cleaning the top of my stove, she said there was no point sitting around wasting the evening with me if I wouldn’t even talk design with her. She made it two whole days with Nate and me faking a relationship — much longer than I expected. The person I sympathize with is my father. He went from thinking he had a fun bachelor Saturday night planned to having to entertain my mother and her outrageous expectations. A piece of Oreo falls from my mouth and lands between my boobs, forcing me to fish it out.
It’s high time I face the facts.
My life is a mess.
I need to make some changes and get things in order.
But first I need more Oreos.
Since boob Oreo was the last in the house and I can’t watch another would-be house flipper mutilate her budget buying overpriced kitchen cabinetry, the only option left for me is bed.
With a quick flick of my finger I’m able to turn the television off and I groan as my muscles ache when I stand. Another sign of my impending age.
I’ve almost hobbled all the way to the bedroom when my phone dings with a text. My heart pounding in my chest, I open it as fast as possible, worried something happened to Emma, and she’s been rushed to the hospital. I hate not having her in my direct line of sight.
With a sigh of relief, I see the name displayed across the screen, but then I pick up again in excitement.
NATE: Open the door.
That’s a horrifyingly wonderful and scary as hell text to receive at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night.
I fix my hair into another — but not as sloppy — ponytail and toss my phone on the couch as I walk past it on my way to the door, the crutch slowing me down.
I’d like to play it off cool — because no girl wants to let on how excited a guy makes her — but there’s no stopping my huge smile when I open the door and see the tall brown-haired Nate standing on the other side.
Thankfully, his expression matches my own. In his hands he holds a package of Oreos. My eyes widen and then raise taking in the strong line of his jaw all the way down to his muscled arms.
“You brought Oreos?”
It’s like the man can read my mind.
He hesitates for a second, holding them out in front of him. “I did, but I’m not sure if you’ll like them.”
I narrow my eyes in his direction. Is this really Nate? Does he not know anything about me? “If it’s an Oreo, then I love it.”
