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I’m desperate to bring him back to the present. To our normal banter.

“So, is that the hammer Thor himself?”

“What?” I can’t tell if the annoyance in his voice is residual from his conversation with Cara, or just for me.

“Um, that day we met—I told you I called the Jeep Reba, and you said—”

“Oh, right.”

The silence stretches on.

“You looked thirsty.” I offer him the lemonade; he takes it with a smile. This one slightly more genuine.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” And then I stand there, feeling like a waitress waiting for a tip or something.

This moment is all wrong.

This is what happens when I try to do somethingreal, something unscripted. I’m so uncomfortable, I’m tempted to flee the scene. But I hold my ground. “Nate, I feel like you’re shutting me down. What’s going on? Is this about…” I drop my voice lower. “Is this about what happened between us last night?” I feel flushed withheat just bringing it up. His hands on my skin. Our bodies finding a rhythm that was so natural, that made me feel so powerfully alive…

He exhales hard through his nose and sets the glass down a little too firmly on the railing.

“No, not at all. Last night was… amazing. But—”

“But what?”

“I can’t… now’s not a good time.”

My stomach tightens. “Now’s not a good time to talk about last night? Or now’s not a good time… in general?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Both?”

My heart plummets down into my stomach.Oh god.

“Nate,” I say, trying to stave off the panic and hurt that are scraping my throat from the inside every breath I take. “What’s this really about? Did I do something wrong, or—”

“Nikki, it’s nothing. It’s a family thing. It’s not actually about you, for once.”

Ouch.“Wow,” I say, stung. Confused. Last night, everything between us was so perfect, so intimate, so…us. And now… it’s like I don’t even know this cold stranger.

“Wait, Nik. I didn’t mean—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I appreciate the lemonade. That was really sweet. Sweet—get it?”

I fake a laugh, but I can hardly breathe. It feels like I’m getting the brush-off. And something in my chest shatters at the thought.

“But I have a lot to get done here if we want this thing ready in two days. Maybe we can talk later?”

“Later,” I repeat. “Got it.”

I start to leave then pause when Nate calls my name.

“What?” I turn back to him, and see something like sadness, or regret, pass across his face.

“Nothing—just… Happy Birthday.”

I can’t even say thank you. I just walk away before he can do any more damage, forcing back the rise of angry tears with so much self-control that I’m actually shaking. Thrown off. Humiliated.

I was an idiot to think Nate had actual feelings for me. All this flirtation, all this chemistry between us—that’s all it was. Physical. I just let myself get carried away by how funny and thoughtful he is. By how…Nate… he is.