Could she sound any more bitter?
Nate cocked his head and frowned at her.
‘So, get to know me.’ His voice was low.
Laurel’s stomach tightened and she flicked her eyes towards him briefly to see if he was kidding. He was relaxed and languid in that uncomfortable hard chair, one long leg stretched out. The only thing that hinted at him being uncomfortable was a tightness around his jaw.
‘Hmm.’ The noise came from her throat, and she swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. Nate Daley still had the ability to make her stomach flutter.
Nate scoffed, and shuffled his chair under the table, shaking his head slightly.
Perhaps she was being immature and petty in not immediately jumping on his offer of friendship, but she needed time to rearrange her thoughts. The kind of doom that you feel at age twenty, when everything is big and dramatic, stays with you and shapes your interactions with other people, your relationships. That kind of crushing embarrassment moulds who you are as a person.
Thing is though, he was in her space, in her home and he wasn’t leaving any time soon.
Nate was right. It would make it easier on everyone if she could put what had happened before in a bucket, lower it into a well and seal the top, with only whispers to be heard now and again.
Laurel would think about that another time. Right now, she had to get through the next few hours of Nate Daley sitting close enough that she could see the angle of the stubble on his chin.
Chapter Four
Nate
Nate was going to have to find some kind of coping mechanism if he was going to sit in Laurel’s office every day. His evening run in the dusky heat through the winding lanes on the way to Lower Houghton was helping erase her non-committal ‘hmm’ from his mind. Because that ‘hmm’, coupled with the glare of her whiskey eyes when she realised that the only place he could work was in her office, had been haunting him. Haunting him in a good way.
When she’d bitten her lip in thought, he’d wondered what it would taste like and how easy it would have been to back her up against the wall and see for himself.
Nate frowned, his running shoes beating the uneven road.
What a weird thing for her to say, that she never knew him. Of course she hadn’t, they had barely said hi to each other. So, no, she wasn’t likely to know his deepest darkest secrets. Nate cringed as he remembered that he had literally invited her to curl up in his lap with that ‘get to know me’ comment. Why had he even said that? It was to annoy her, to see if she snapped at the line, to see if he could win.
Nate increased his pace, wiping the sweat across his forehead as the lane widened into Little Houghton town.
It wasn’t big, obviously, but the little high street included two barber shops – although how many barber shops one tiny place needed Nate was unsure – an estate agent, opticians, a couple of cafes, a little Sainsbury’s. He’d explore it properly one weekend. It wasn’t like he didn’t have time.
Jack had taken him to the Dog & Gun, the pub at the end of the high street, and they did nice on-tap ale. Local brewery, so Jack had informed him. Nate had never felt so welcome and embraced as he had when he’d walked into that pub with Jack. The eldest Fletcher child was like some kind of local celebrity. Jack knew absolutely everyone, remembered their kids’ names, had a kind word for every single person. If there was a mayor for Little Houghton, it would have been Jack. He was so unassuming, calm and relaxed. So comfortable in himself. So different from Laurel. Nate stopped abruptly. Jack had been such good company, he hadn’t even thought to ask about Laurel.
Stretching out his quads, he watched the orange pinks of the sun filter through the buildings and skitter across the uneven road. There were definitely worse places to be spending a few months, especially in the summer.
He ignored the initial buzz of his smartwatch, probably belligerently telling him to MOVE, but couldn’t ignore the second. Nate retrieved his phone from his shoulder pouch.
‘Alex,’ he greeted.
‘Yo, Nathanial, have you been avoiding me?’ Alex was in the pub, the telltale clink of glasses and low hubbub giving him away. What was that terrible music playing?
‘I’ve been busy, Alex.’ He held back a sigh.
Nate had to be in the mood to deal with Alex and over the past few years that mood had been less and less forthcoming. Perhaps he had been avoiding Alex, just a smidgen.
‘But it’s work related, that’s why I’ve been calling. Don’t you listen to your messages?’
No, he didn’t. That unmoving notification on his phone didn’t bother him one little bit.
‘Jane is my British Archaeology Society liaison, not you,’ Nate replied.
‘If you’d listened to your messages, then you’d know that I’ve managed to swing it so that I’m your liaison.’ Alex took a loud swallow. ‘How cool is that? Getting the band back together.’
‘You didn’t.’ Nate grinned. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were doing that?’ Alex must have begged and pleaded and brown-nosed so hard it was painful, because Nate’s dig was well above Alex’s pay grade. ‘That’s amazing, Alex. Congratulations.’
