Page 65 of The Fool
“You look hot, Summers,” he says when he catches me looking at him. “You look like you could eat me for breakfast, which I’m totally cool with, by the way.”
“Seriously?” I ask in a confused tone of voice. “I thought you’d be used to women dressing up for you.”
“Bea, I really don’t look at a woman based on what she wears; I’m honestly not that shallow. You look good because you look comfortable. I want you to be yourself with me.”
“So, what do you normally wear outside of the office? I think I’ve only ever seen you once in something other than a suit.”
“I mostly walk about in my underwear at home.”
“Just like my brother then; he’s a lazy ass too,” I tease.
“A little bit, but who cares when it’s just me?”
“Well, don’t let me stop you from doing what you normally do,” I say quietly, hoping to sound a little seductive. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to be flirtatious, and I was never an expert.
“As long as you can manage to keep your hands off me,” he says with a cheeky-boy smirk on his face. “Actually,youcan put your hands anywhere on me if you like. In fact, I actively encourage it.”
“What happened to getting to know one another properly?” I ask, only being half serious.
“We can still do that with your hands on me,” he teases before lifting my hand to his mouth and kissing it. The sensation of his lips on me, together with the way he looks at me, awakens something, a lust I am only just starting to remember having again.
“We’ll see,” I whisper as we set off inside his Mercedes.
_____
Bea
Nate lets me into his place and offers a drink before excusing himself to go and have a shower. I accept a glass from what looks like an expensive bottle of white wine and slope into the living room to see if his couch feels as hard as it looks. I stare at the black screen of his monstrosity of a TV, and half wonder if it would blind me if I managed to work out how to switch it on. So, instead, I turn my attention back to his family portrait and allow my mind to wander for a moment or two. The three siblings look happy together; the shot isn’t even posed. It reminds me of a photograph that is no doubt still in pride of place on my parents’ mantelpiece. Ben’s driving a golf cart with Emma and me in the back, all smiles and missing teeth. I indulge in the memory of him crashing the thing into the club’s extravagant water fountain. It was one of the few times I had heard my father swear. However, then I remember the fact that I have to face them all tomorrow, including my cheating ex-boyfriend and my backstabbing little sister.
I know what’s coming, can almost hear the grand announcement falling from Emma’s deceitful lips, and I also know I will be expected to go to the wedding. Dad will demand it of me, and if I refuse, I’ll be seen as petty and stubborn. I can’t blame him; he was told the unabridged version of events. As far as my parents are concerned, Dean and I broke up when I decided to move in with Ben. Emma got together shortly afterward, and I became bitter. Even my sudden departure was explained away by my being offered an exciting, once-in-a-lifetime, job opportunity. My mother can’t understand my aversion to my sister’s relationship - ‘After all, you left him so suddenly, Bea. You can’t blame them for finding love with one another after you abandoned them both without a proper goodbye.’
Ben was desperate to give the full story, but I couldn’t bear to have it all brought to the surface again. What would be the point other than to cause a whole load of bad feelings? I love my parents too much to do that to them. I convinced Ben to tell the new, ‘happy’ couple to go along with the fictional version, which they were more than willing to do.
Moments later, trying to block out thoughts of my upcoming family meal, I am brought back to the present with a bang. Walking up to me, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants and a naughty smile, is none other than my ridiculously handsome host. I’m sorry to say that the sight of his muscular physique, tanned skin, and perfect abs, all put together with that ridiculously cheeky grin of his has me gaping at him with a thoroughly uncool expression on my face. In fact, I can’t even begin to try and act nonchalant so give into my girlish giggling without apology.
“Wh…what? What…?” I stutter for the words but can’t get them past my fit of giggles, especially when he reaches the bottom of the staircase and does an over-the-top twirl for me.
“You asked me to wear what I would normally wear,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m just following orders.”
“Just how much time do you spend working out?” I walk over to him, taking in his entire physique which doesn’t appear to have an ounce of fat. “Jesus Christ, you look like a Roman gladiator.”
“I take care of myself,” he replies with a smug, theatrical grin. “You like?”
“Well, yeah, show me a woman who wouldn’t,” I tell him while trying to compose myself again. “But if you start checking yourself out in the mirror or kissing your own biceps, I’m walking home.”
“I’ll try not to,” he laughs, “but I am pretty hot, aren’t I?”
“I hope you’re not frying anything for dinner?” I ask as he moves around to the kitchen and starts getting out various ingredients from the fridge. “I wouldn’t want you to burn yourself.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t look like this by frying shit,” he says as if chastising me for thinking such a thing. “Another drink?” he asks, to which I nod. I need a glass to try and calm my lustful thoughts, especially now that he’s flexing his muscles as he moves around the kitchen.
“No wine for you?” I ask when I notice him getting a bottle of water for his own glass.
“Usually, yes, but I need a clear head to drive you home tonight,” he explains, still fussing over vegetables and other food stuffs.
“I can get a taxi, it’s not a big-”
“Not on my watch, Miss Summers,” he says, cutting me off. “I’m not letting you get in a cab late at night. Anyway, I have an unexpected early meeting with Lucius tomorrow. I need a straight head when dealing with him; he won’t take any prisoners.”