I like it.
And I like her.
There are three rinks with full sheets of ice at the arena. One of the rinks has open skate for the next two hours. The metal door leading to the ice is open. I step out first and turn to Natalie. “You ready?”
She sucks in a lungful of cold air and nods. This time, she reaches for me. I steady her as she finds her bearings on the slippery sheet. When she doesn’t immediately fall, a smile blooms across her face. Her eyes seek out mine.
“See? Easy as pie,” I say.
“We’ll see.”
The first time around, we take it slow. A couple of kids who can’t be more than eight years old whiz past us. Natalie is stiff, her body too upright. Every time she tips too far in one direction or digs the toe pick into the ice, she throws her arms out wide in an attempt to regain her balance. The second time around, she loosens up and we gain some speed. She finds her rhythm, alternating between pushing off and gliding. By the time we hit our third lap, we’re moving at a good clip. The eight-year-olds are still passing us, but that’s okay. Natalie’s not as tense and awkward. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold and a huge smile lights up her face.
From day one, I thought she was beautiful. When she smiles like that, she’s absolutely stunning.
And knowing that I’m the one who put it there makes it all the more better.
Chapter Sixteen
Brody
I hoist a beer to my lips and glance around the room searching for Natalie, but I don’t see her anywhere in the thick crowd. Before I dropped her off at her apartment the other night, I talked her into meeting me at the Kappa party. I figured it would be a good place to start our publicity tour.
We had a great time ice skating at the rink. At least I did. And if the perma-smile plastered across Natalie’s face was any indication, so did she. I was just happy to take her mind off what had happened with her father.
Am I hoping something has shifted between us? Of course, I am. We actually conversed while skating without her taking my head off. And you know what? I like Natalie. I like being with her. I like her sense of humor. It only makes me more antsy to see her again. Which is definitely a first for me. Instead of fighting the feeling, I pull out my cell and fire off a text.
Where r u?
I stare at the phone in my palm, willing her to respond. Five minutes later, my hard work pays off.
Not there
Even though she can’t see me do it, I roll my eyes.
Why does she have to be such a smartass?
Bigger question—why do I find that trait so freaking attractive?
Yes, I c that. When r u getting here? I miss my fake girlfriend. Having a hard time fighting off the chicks…
*eyeroll* that sounds terrible for u
It is
Wasn’t in the mood 2 go out 2nite
Davies…
McKinnon…
All right. This isn’t getting me anywhere, so I’m pulling rank. Not that I have any to pull, but whatever.
U have ten min 2 get ur arse here or I’m coming 2 find u
Good luck with that
I’m totally serious, Davies
No response…
“Brody!” a high-pitched voice squeals, interrupting my back-and-forth with Natalie. “I’ve missed you soooooo much.”
A raven-haired girl with red-slicked lips and matching talons stares up at me as she strokes her hands over my chest. She has long, straight hair that hangs down her back and a slender body that is showcased in a tight, low-cut shirt and even tighter skinny jeans.
“I haven’t seen you in so long!”
She looks familiar, but her name eludes me. There’s only one chick on my mind tonight, and this isn’t the one.
“Hey, how you doing?”
“Cassandra,” she supplies when I don’t say her name.
I nod. “Right. Cassandra. Got it.”
When she tries snuggling against me, I gently, but firmly pry her hands off me. Whatever this girl is looking for, she’s not going to get it from me.
Her brows wing up in disbelief. “So, the rumors are true? You have a girlfriend?”
“Yup. Totally true. I’m a taken man,” I add in case she doesn’t take the hint.
She pouts. “That’s too bad.” Her fingers go to the round scoop neck of her shirt and trail leisurely over the edge, which lies against the creamy skin of her chest.
I raise a brow.
Such an obvious ploy. I’m onto you, girl. Trying to get me to check out your tits by drawing my eyes there…Not happening today.
Her lips curve into a sly smile. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she whispers huskily.
I shake my head. “Sorry, if I wanted to fool around with other chicks, I wouldn’t be in a relationship.” I give her a penetrating look. “I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
She sighs. “Natalie is a lucky girl.”
I give her a little wink. “You be sure to tell her that the next time you see her.”
“I will.”
I chuckle at the image of Natalie flipping her lid if people actually start telling her how lucky she is to be dating me.
Just as I’m trying to come up with an exit strategy, I spot Luke coming through the front door. He and Zara have been attached at the hip lately, so I hope Natalie is with them.
“If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.”
“Okay,” she says wistfully. “Bye, Brody.”
I give her a wave and take off. I don’t have to push and shove my way over to them. The crowd parts as I move through it. Once I reach Luke and Zara, I’m disappointed to see that Natalie’s not with them.
Damnation, that girl vexes me.
“Where’s your roommate?” I ask Zara.
“Well, hello to you too, Brody,” she says in greeting. “Always nice to see you.”
I raise a brow and wait impatiently for an answer. “I thought Davies would be with you.”
Zara shakes her head as Luke slips an arm around her and pulls her close. “She needed some time to herself.”
What does that mean? “So, she’s at your place?”
Because if she is, then that’s exactly where I’ll be heading. My threat wasn’t an idle one. I’m going to find that girl if it’s the last thing I do.
“No.” She bites her lip and glances at Luke. “I think she just wants to chill by herself. It’s been kind of a shitty week for her.”
Zara’s giving me the runaround, and I don’t like it one bit. I want to know where Natalie is. “If she’s not here or at your apartment, where the heck is she?”
Not taking kindly to my tone, Zara narrows her eyes. She may be tiny and sprite-like, but she’s an ass-kicker. It’s not difficult to understand why she and Natalie are such good friends. They both subscribe to a take-no-prisoners mentality. “Why do you want to know?”
I shrug, trying to reel in my impatience. “We made plans. She’s supposed to be here.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I glance at Luke for support.
He grins at his girlfriend. “Come on, babe, just tell him where she is. Otherwise, he’s going to hound you all night. You really want that?”
Zara sighs. Annoyance is written across every line of her face. “I dropped her off at her mother’s house a couple of hours ago, okay?” She rolls her eyes. “She’s staying there for the weekend.”
Something instantly loosens within me at the information.
“Thanks.” I head for the door.
“You’re not going over there, are you, Brody?” she calls after me.
I turn and flash her a grin. “Of course, I am.”
Chapter Seventeen
Natalie
This has officially been the week from hell.
It kicked off with Reed and his lousy-lay comments. Then it got worse when Brody told the world-at-large that we’re now an item, which led to some pretty odd behavior from other students on campus. Not that I didn’t e
njoy my free caramel mocha, but it’s definitely weird. I avoided Java House on Thursday and Friday, instead bringing a thermos of crappy coffee from home. In no way did it feed the need for my usual morning caffeine fix. It was so terrible, I could barely choke it down.
By the end of the week, I’d started wearing a ballcap low over my eyes so I would be less recognizable. That’s ridiculous, right? I shouldn’t have to live this way. I’m not famous or noteworthy. These people don’t give a crap about me. They care about who I’m dating. Well, let’s be real…fake-dating. I’m fake-dating Brody McKinnon.
Then there’s the situation with my dad…
And his twenty-seven-year-old fiancée.
Ugh.
Come Friday afternoon, I’d reached my limit. Even though I was supposed to meet up with Brody at some off-campus Greek party so we could pretend to be enjoying blissful coupledom, I don’t think I can plaster one more fake smile on my face. My quota for the week has been filled.
I’m done. Fed up.
Is it terrible that I hoped Brody would get mobbed by his adoring public at the party and forget all about me? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Instead, he messaged me, demanding I haul ass over there or he’d come find me.
I chuckle.
Good luck with that, buddy. He can scour campus all he wants. He won’t find me.
Zara dropped me off earlier this afternoon at my mom’s house, which is about forty minutes away from school in a neighboring town. As soon as I’d pushed open the front door, I knew I’d made the right decision in heading home for the weekend. I need some time to chill and regroup.
Because this was an impromptu trip home, Mom wasn’t able to be here when I arrived. She just got home about forty-five minutes ago from showing a house. I offered to make dinner, but she insisted on stopping at the store on the way home from work to pick up the ingredients for stroganoff, which is my favorite.
We’re talking ultimate comfort food. Which is exactly what’s required at a time like this.
Now that she’s home and cooking dinner, we’ve migrated to the kitchen. I sit at the island, watching her slice a chunk of beef into thin strips before dredging them in flour and frying them up in garlic and butter. The aroma is dizzying. God, but I miss Mom’s cooking while I’m at school.
Mom catches me staring and shoots me a smile as she continues prepping dinner. “This is such an unexpected surprise. I’m glad you decided to come home. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve seen you.”
Even though Whitmore isn’t far away, I’m busy with school and Mom is busy building her career. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like. That’s why both of us appreciate this chance to spend some time together.
I nod, feeling the same. It’s good to be here. “I needed a break from campus.”
She flips the meat over in the pan and asks, “Everything okay?”
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
Her brows slide together. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
There’s no way I’m sharing all of this drama with her.
How cringe-worthy would that be?
Remember my ex-boyfriend, Reed? Yeah, well, he decided to announce at a party that I’m a lousy lay.
If I know Mom, she’d probably drive to Whitmore just to wring his neck. She has the tendency to be a bit of a mama bear when she feels someone is attacking me. Plus, she was never very high on him in the first place. I chalked it up to the divorce, which was so fresh at the time, but her instincts were spot-on. More so than mine were. The thought of her confronting Reed is almost enough to make me smile. “Nope. Just wanted to spend a little time with my mom.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. You know how much I love having you around.”
Sometimes I feel guilty for living on campus when Mom is here all by herself. I offered to stay at the house and commute to school, but she was firm in her decision that I needed to live my own life and not worry about her.
But I still worry. I hate the idea of her coming home to an empty house at the end of a long day.
Now feels like a good time to change the subject. “How’s work going?”
She transfers half the meat to a plate in order to fry up the rest. “It’s going really well. I have a couple who is going to make an offer on their first home tomorrow, so that’s exciting. I need to meet them at the property at ten so they can take one more look around and then we’re going to write up the offer.” She glances at me. “Maybe after that we can go out for lunch?”
I nod and take a sip of my water. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”
She smiles. “Great.”
As my mom and I continue chatting, all of the tension that had been filling me drains from my body. My shoulders no longer feel like they’re up around my ears. It only makes me realize how much stress I’ve been holding inside.
I’m not sure if I can deal with another week of feeling like I’m living under a microscope. How long do I have to wait until I’m able to extract myself from this relationship? A week? Two? More?
Oh, God…
That sounds excruciating.
“Are you sure nothing’s going on? Because I get the feeling you’re not telling me something.” She waves the kitchen tongs in my direction. “Your forehead is all scrunched up.”
It takes some effort to smooth out my features.
It shouldn’t surprise me that she’s picking up on my mood. She’s always had some kind of weird parental radar where I’m concerned. It was frustratingly annoying when I was a teenager and trying to slip things past her.
Which, trust me, didn’t happen very often.
As tempted as I am to spill my guts, my recent developments aren’t something I can share with her. “Nope. It’s all good.”
Hands going to her hips, she pins me in place with her gaze until I squirm on my stool. “Natalie Marie, I know when something’s bothering you. Do us both a favor and spit it out.”
In this kind of situation, deflection can be your friend. “Why do you think something’s going on?”
She tilts her head and studies me for a moment. “Because I know you and can see it in your face. You looked stressed. And you’re quieter than usual, more introspective. You know I hate when you keep things from me.” She shoots me a look. “It makes me worry more than I probably should. So how about you just put me out of my misery and tell me what’s going on?”
Now that the stroganoff is simmering on the stove, she takes a seat next to me. Her gaze combs over me with even more intensity. It won’t take much prodding for her to break me.
When I don’t respond, she asks, “Does this have anything to do with the dinner you and your dad had a couple of days ago?”
That’s not a situation I want to discuss with her. Mom is still in a fragile state. In less than a year, her entire world has been turned upside down. Telling her about Dad’s engagement will only hurt her, and I don’t want to do that.
I focus my attention on a swirl of color in the tan granite and mumble, “No, dinner was fine.”
“Really?”
I shrug and keep it vague. “Yep.”
She sighs. “Natalie, you can be truthful with me.”
My eyes dart to her, and she arches a brow. Not only does she sound skeptical, her face is full of it. Like she doesn’t believe one word coming out of my mouth. And I hate that. Because I’m an only child, Mom and I have always been close.
“I am.”
Almost gently she says, “Your dad called me yesterday and told me about his engagement.”
My eyes widen. “He did?” I’m so shocked by this information that I feel like I’m going to fall right off my stool. I had no idea they were still in contact.
She nods. “He said you were pretty upset about it. That you walked out of the restaurant.”
The air hisses from my lungs. “You guys aren’t even divorced yet and he’s already asking someone else to marry him?” Even thinking about it pisses me off. “Who does that?”
She reaches over and rubs my arm. “The paperwork has been filed, Natalie. It’s going to happen, and you need to make your peace with it.”
This conversation hurts my heart. It also strikes me as odd that I’m more upset about their divorce than either one of my parents are. I was afraid that Mom would be devastated when she found out about the engagement. I take a closer look at her. She certainly doesn’t seem upset.
“I just didn’t expect him to move on so quickly.” My lip curls with disgust. “And with her, no less.”
“I know. And I understand you’re still hurt and angry. But this is what your father wants.” She pulls her hand away from me and folds both of them in her lap before sitting up straighter. “I don’t want to be with a man who doesn’t want to be married to me.”
“Mom…”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “I really am. I found a career that I enjoy and I’m taking better care of myself. I haven’t done that for a long time. And,” she pauses, “I’ve started dating again.”
I blink, shocked by her announcement.
“You’re dating?” I wasn’t expecting this at all. Of course, I want her to be happy. I don’t want her sitting home alone on a Friday night, drowning her sorrows in a bottle of pinot grigio. At some point, I fully expected her to get back out there again.
Just not yet.
She nods. A smile simmers on her lips. “In fact, I had plans to go out tonight.”
“You cancelled your date? Why?”
“I’d rather spend time with you. I thought we could rent a movie, maybe do a little spa night.” She wiggles her brows. “I have a new charcoal face mask I want to try out. We can do mani pedis on each other. All the stuff we used to do.”
“That sounds great, Mom.” I chew my lower lip, feeling guilty that I’m getting in the way of her budding social life. When I decided to come home, it never occurred to me that she might have plans. I run a hand over my face. I’m not ready for this. Dad is engaged and Mom is dating. “I don’t want you cancelling your date for me. We can always watch a movie and do a spa night tomorrow.”
Hate to Love You Page 12