Page 54 of Wild Abandon

Insert palm on forehead and metaphoric shrinking down to the ground.

Heard so much about you? I hope he doesn’t think I’ve been gushing about him. Because I have not. In fact, I’ve dodged as many questions as possible.

And, now, Nate is getting out of his car. He is walking around his car and coming up next to me. He is putting his hand on my hip and moving me to the side.

He is staring at me.

Why is Nate staring at me?

“I need to get behind you.”

Why does Nate need to get behind me?

“I have to get the chandelier.”

Chandelier?

I turn to Naomi to ask her what’s going on. While Nate’s head is buried down, as he’s trying to carefully get the chandelier out of the car, Naomi is taking the opportunity to give me this wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression with a body bob that makes her look like she’s being electrocuted.

I open my arms out to her, asking, What is going on?

Naomi composes herself and says with a smirk, “Nate was driving by and saw we needed help.”

He takes the chandelier and starts walking it toward his truck.

“If you’re helping us, then why are you putting it in your car?” I ask.

He answers without looking at me, “I’m bringing it to your house.”

“And he’s staying for dinner!” Naomi beams.

That causes both me and Nate to spin our heads in her direction in rapid movement.

“He is?”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” she says nonchalantly. “We’re having a barbecue at the house. Totally casual. Since you’ll be at the house, stay for a drink. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Nate looks from Naomi to me and back and forth one more time before shrugging his shoulders with uncertainty. “Um, sure, okay. I’ll follow you.” He closes his trunk and then walks to the driver’s seat.

Naomi and I get in her car.

No sooner is my seat belt on than I am ripping into her. “We’re not having a barbecue today!”

She is looking at the rearview mirror, eyeing Nate in his truck. “And you didn’t tell me that Nate looked like that.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what he looks like. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends,” she states even though it sounds like she doesn’t believe it.

“He’s emotionally unavailable. And completely uninterested.”

“It all makes sense now.” Her words are slow and somewhat singsongy.

“What makes sense?”

“Why the hell you drive to a pub in Napa for all your dates.”