“Are you ready?” Nate asked.
Manuela nodded, and she stepped into his car.
She’d driven with him plenty of times before, but today, somehow it felt different.
She’d be interpreting for Mrs. Clarice Sampaio, a client, and she lived in a nearby beachfront town a couple of hours from Tulip. She’d met Clarice a few times before, and the quirky Brazilian lady had taken a liking to her.
“We’ll meet her at the first home she wants to see,” he said.
“Sounds good. Do you know how long we’ll be gone for?” she asked, glancing at the heavy traffic. Her fat cat Gustavo had a very strict eating schedule, and he usually ignored her for days if she dared feed him late. She’d tried the self-feeder, but Gustavo was too naughty to fall for it. Should she text her neighbor and ask her to feed him later? Traffic could be such a bitch.
“Why? Do you have somewhere to go?”
“A prior commitment, yes,” she said, hoping her mysterious tone would make him wonder. Damn it, she’d seen the way he’d looked at her today. He would never admit to it, but in the worst-case scenario, he liked her new look, and in the best-case scenario, he wanted her. Badly. Achingly. The same way she wanted him. Dream, girl. Dream. “With Gustavo.”
“Gustavo, huh? Is that a family member?”
She licked her lips. He definitely considered himself the head of the household. “No.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Friend?”
“Nope.”
He drummed his fingers on the console, looking at the line of cars ahead of them. Thankfully they’d left with enough time, otherwise they’d be late. “Who is Gustavo? Amuse me. Traffic sucks as usual.”
The image of her lazy Maine coon lounging on his bed by the window came to mind. He observed people walking by and looked at them with a mix of disdain and interest, like he quietly judged them. “He’s all right. A bit self-absorbed, but we get along well.”
“I never heard of him,” he said, a twinge of annoyance in his voice.
She had mentioned she had a cat in the past, but she doubted he knew his name.
“You never asked.”
“Is it serious?”
Should she say it? A surge of excitement traveled up her spine. “We’re living together, so pretty serious.”
“What?” he asked, turning his head to look at her. An expression of complete surprise and frustration filled his face. “What do you mean? How long?”
“Not that long,” she said. “Why do you care?” she asked, lifting her chin, a part of her defying him to come to terms with the truth. Why else would he care? They were never friends. He appreciated her work, but never let her in his circle. Not that she’d ever have tried back then—he was taken, and Megan wasn’t a bad person.
But now…
He was single, and all too interested in her love life.
Excitement surged through her. Could this be happening? Him, wanting her? What if she were more aggressive? The idea played in the back of her head. Just dressing sexier wouldn’t make it—not in this lifetime. He probably was aware of his attraction for her, but unless she made it obvious she felt the same way—and wanted to act on it, nothing would change.
And fuck it, she wanted—needed it to change.
“I don’t care,” he said, shuffling in his seat like her question made him uncomfortable. “I mean I do, but only because I don’t want to see you hurt. You said he’s self-absorbed.”
“Yes, but no one is perfect, right? Why did you break up with Megan?” she asked, landing the ball in his court. She’d wondered, but he never gave her anything deeper than the “didn’t work out anymore” spiel. Besides, if there was a deal-breaking reason as to why he wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, she needed to know.
He fixed his sunglasses. “Didn’t work anymore.”
Same old excuse. She rolled her eyes, grateful that they were in a moving car so he wouldn’t be able to leave this conversation. “I don’t buy that. You were with her for years.”
“She wanted to get married.”
