“I won! I won!” Kris did a little jump in an uncharacteristic display of glee, and Nate would be damned if it wasn’t the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Congrats. Your speed is impressive.” He closed the distance between them until they both stood on the peak of Runyon Canyon Park.
Los Angeles sprawled before them, the relatively flat buildings nearby giving way to the sleek skyscrapers of downtown in the distance. From this vantage point, they could see the distinctive Capitol Records Building—which resembled a stack of records, though contrary to popular belief, such a design had not been intentional—and the ritzy mansions in Hollywood Hills. The neighborhood of the rich and famous was a hodgepodge of architectural styles, ranging from eco-friendly abodes with solar panels to Mediterranean behemoths with sparkling turquoise pools.
Kris collapsed on a bench nearby. She’d thrown her hair up in a ponytail and wore a tank top, yoga pants, and sneakers. It was the most casual Nate had seen her outside her house, and he was feeling it.
“You didn’t let me win, did you?” she asked, her earlier excitement giving way to suspicion.
“No,” Nate lied.
Not really. He and Kris had spent the morning hiking Runyon Canyon, and toward the last quarter mile, they’d made a bet on who would reach the top first.
Nate supposed he could’ve picked up his pace, but the sight of Kris’s round, firm ass in yoga pants had distracted him. Getting distracted wasn’t the same as letting her win.
He was usually a competitive person, but he wasn’t even mad. The view had been worth it.
God bless whoever invented yoga pants.
“Good.” Kris looked satisfied. “Cough up the prize, pretty boy.”
Nate laughed and took the seat next to her. “Fine.” He racked his brain for a good one. “So I was manscaping for a role…”
“Oh, no.” Kris covered her eyes with her hand. “Any story that begins with ‘I was manscaping’ doesn’t end well.”
His mouth twitched. “Shh. Let me finish. So I was manscaping for a role, and like an idiot, I decided to do it myself. I was in the bathroom, doing my thing with the trimmers—”
She shook her head, the horror evident in her eyes.
“—and it was going fine, until Sky, who was watching some horror movie in the living room, screamed and startled me. I slipped and…well, let’s just say that was the most embarrassing trip to the ER I’ve ever taken. People say doctors don’t judge, but they totally judge. You should’ve seen the look mine gave me. I swear she shook the entire time from trying not to laugh. Not good, considering she was working on a very delicate area of my anatomy.”
Kris burst into laughter. “I don’t blame her. It’s pretty funny.”
“You would say that; you’re not a man. You don’t understand the pain of stabbing yourself in the nut sack on what should’ve been a normal Friday night.” Nate released an exaggerated shudder. “Now you tell me.” He draped his arm over the back of the bench. His fingertips grazed Kris’s shoulder, and a tiny electric shock sizzled through his veins. “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”
“I don’t have to tell you. I won.” Her eyes shone with amusement. “The whole point of winning was so I wouldn’t have to share my most embarrassing moment.”
“If you were a good friend, you’d share it anyway.”
She tilted her head. “Is that what we are? Friends?”
Nate paused, unsure how to answer that question. If he had the choice, they’d be more than friends. Their night on the boat would forever have a starring role in his fantasies, though they hadn’t discussed whether their unlabeled relationship was casual, serious, or something in between. But it was more than lust. He liked Kris. When he first met her, he’d thought she was cold, spoiled, and superficial—and sometimes, she could be. But she was also passionate, funny, and sarcastic. She’d stayed with him the night his father was hospitalized, and Skylar adored her. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, Kris did care about people—or at least, those she deemed worthy of her trust and attention.
Nate desperately wanted to be one of those people.
“Sure,” he said. “If you want to be. We’d make great friends. With benefits.”
He might’ve imagined it, but he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes at his response.
Kris turned her head and tugged on her ponytail. Her diamond studs glinted beneath the bright summer sun. “Right. Well, you’re in luck, because I have one spot left on my friend roster,” she said briskly. “I suppose you could fill it.”
“I wasn’t aware you had a friend quota.”
“Of course I do. Friendships are exhausting. They require so much energy and emotional labor. If I don’t didn’t limit my friend circle, I’d go insane.” Kris shrugged, and her skin brushed his fingertips again. Nate swallowed hard. “Luckily, I dislike most people, so it’s never been an issue.”
“I’m flattered,” he said wryly, trying not to focus on his suddenly-too-tight shorts. If a brush of her skin could elicit such a powerful reaction from the man downstairs, he was in deep shit. Nate shifted his weight and removed his arm from the back of the bench. Thank God he’d worn loose shorts for jogging so Kris couldn’t see how much she affected him. “Speaking of people you dislike, how goes it with Gloria?”
She’d filled him in on her father’s ultimatum. Nate had been equal parts bummed and relieved that they wouldn’t be able to carry out the rest of Kris’s plan. He was out $7,500, which sucked, but he was secretly glad he didn’t have to do anything more with Gloria. That woman put him on edge; she was the human equivalent of a viper hiding in the sand.
“It’s fine. For our mandatory ‘one-on-one’ time—” Kris rolled her eyes. “We go to that spa she’s always raving about. It’s perfect because we get our treatments done alone and don’t have to talk to each other. My father will never know. He’s too busy with work to get into the specifics. All he cares about is that we go somewhere together once a week.”
“Maybe you should try to get to know her better,” Nate ventured. “She’s going to be your stepmother, so a truce would be useful.”
Kris’s glare could put a zombie back into the ground.
“Or not,” he said.
“I don’t want to talk about her. Even hearing her name raises my blood pressure.” Kris fiddled with her earring. “Actually, I have a favor to ask of you.”
Nate clutched his chest. “Kris Carrera, asking a favor of little ol’ me? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Shut up,” she grumbled, but she was smiling. “Anyway, Gloria spilled the beans about our ‘relationship’ to our father and now he, uh, wants to meet you.”
Nate’s grin disappeared. Meet the parents? He wasn’t ready for that. He liked Kris a lot, but they weren’t really dating, and he’d bet his last dollar that her father was scary as hell.
Fathers didn’t like Nate. They took one look at him and—correctly—assumed he would corrupt their daughters’ precious virtue. Never mind the fact that their daughters wanted to be corrupted, and it was their choice what they did with their bodies.
Plus, Nate couldn’t see a multimillionaire businessman like Roger Carrera being all that thrilled about his only daughter dating a broke college dropout.
“I would’ve told him we broke up,” Kris added. “But we put on such a show for Gloria that it’d seem suspicious if we ended it just like that. It’s also not a one-on-one meeting. He’s hosting a dinner party and there’ll be some big Hollywood people there. It could be useful networking for you. I would’ve asked you earlier, but I wasn’t sure whether he was going to go through with the dinner. He sent the official invites out this morning, so I guess he is.”
He’d never seen Kris look so nervous.
She was right. It would be good networking, but Nate dreaded the thought of meeting her father in some fancy-schmancy environment even more than he dreaded meeting the man one-on-one. What if Nate wore the wrong clothes or used the wrong fork? He wasn’t schooled in rich people etiquette.
There was no way he could say no, though. Not with Kris looking at him like that, all big brown eyes and soft skin.
“Okay.” He forced a smile. “Sure.”
“Great.” Relief flooded her expression. “Oh, and I’ll pay you the rest of your money tomorrow. Do you want cash, or would you prefer I wired it to you? It’s been so crazy at work that I didn’t get a chance to withdraw—”
“What money?”
“The $7,500. For the remainder of your contract.”
Tension crawled its way down his spine and lodged itself in the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t see the contract through. There’s no reason to pay me the rest of the money.”
“Technically, no,” Kris allowed. “But it’s not your fault my dad showed up all of a sudden. Plus, you put in the time and effort, and you’re pretending to be my boyfriend at the dinner. You deserve it.”
A muscle ticked in Nate’s jaw. “You don’t have to pay me $7,500 to attend a dinner party.”
Kris looked taken aback by his harsh tone. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” She threw her hands in the air. “It’s just money. Take it! $7,500 is not a lot to me, but it—” She stopped.
Something dangerous pulsed behind Nate’s temple. “But it is to me. Is that what you were going to say?” His voice was quiet. Deadly.
Kris looked away. “I’m trying to help. I know things have been difficult with your dad, and Skylar’s senior year is coming up. She’s going to have homecoming, prom, college application fees. It’s expensive.”
Twin tornadoes of fury and humiliation blazed through Nate’s chest. “It’s my family. My dad. My sister. We don’t need your handouts. We’re not some charity case that you can throw money at to make yourself feel better.”
His family may not be perfect, and he and his dad still weren’t speaking after their blowup—well, after Nate’s blowup—in the kitchen last week, but they were still his family, and he wouldn’t have anyone looking down on them.
“That’s not it,” Kris said hotly. “I don’t think you’re a charity case—”
“Then stop treating me like one!”
The wind rustled in consternation. Nate suddenly realized how quiet it was—too quiet. A glance around confirmed that the other hikers in the vicinity had stopped what they were doing to watch his and Kris’s drama unfold with wide eyes. He was pretty sure one of them was the star of the latest hit Netflix show.
The humiliation deepened.
“I’m going back to the car.” Nate stood, forcing himself to unclench his fists. Huh. He hadn’t realized he’d clenched them. “I’ll wait ten minutes. If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you’re walking home.”
It was an asshole thing to say, but Nate didn’t feel particularly gentlemanly as he stormed off. Unlike during the hike up, he didn’t slow his stride to keep pace with Kris. By the time he made it to his car, a portion of his anger had burned away, but the humiliation remained. It tasted sharp and bitter in his throat.
Nate was a lot of things, but he was no charity case. His family may not have much money, but the money they did have, they’d earned. He refused to live off other people’s pity.
He ran a hand through his hair and glared at his phone. He’d been sitting here for seven minutes. Three more minutes and he was outta here. Kris could find her own damn way home.
Another minute passed. Then another. And another.
Nate turned on the engine and glanced down the road. Runyon Canyon didn’t have a parking lot, so he’d parked on a street by the main entrance. Other than a woman walking her dog, there was no one else in sight.
Where is she?
“I’m leaving,” Nate said, like Kris could somehow hear him.
Nothing.
“Five more minutes, then I’m leaving.” He sounded like a crazy person, talking to himself in his car.
It shouldn’t take Kris that long to get to the car. Was she lost? Hurt?
His heart banged against his chest at the thought.
After a vicious inner war, Nate composed a quick text to make sure she was okay. He was still pissed at her, but he wasn’t a monster. He refused to have her death on his conscience.
That’s the only reason I haven’t left yet, he assured himself.
In an uncanny coincidence, his phone pinged with a message from Kris right before he hit send.
Kris: You’ve probably left by now, but just FYI, I ran into a friend and he’s driving me home.
What. The. Fuck.
Nate stared at Kris’s text in disbelief. His earlier anger rushed back, a hundred times fiercer than before. Was she messing with him? What were the odds of her running into a friend in the past hour? Who was this he she was talking about?
His molars ground together.
Nate: Fine.
That was the only reply he could muster without blowing up.
Nate maneuvered out of his parking spot and gunned it toward his house, furious for reasons beyond his comprehension.
This was turning out to be the shittiest day ever.
NATE’S TEMPER didn’t improve when he arrived home to a barrage of questions from Skylar.
“How was your hike with Kris?” she chirped from her position on the couch, where she was watching old Tom and Jerry cartoons over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
“Fine.” That seemed to be the only word he was capable of since he’d left Kris sitting at the top of a hill.
Guilt wormed its way into its stomach, but he grabbed it by its neck and shoved the fucker aside. He didn’t have time for guilt. He was too busy being mad—at Kris, at the asshole who supposedly drove her home, and at himself.
Nate exhaled a long sigh at Skylar’s raised eyebrows. “You shouldn’t eat cereal for lunch,” he said in a gentler tone. “There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge.”
“I ate that for breakfast.” Skylar grinned at her brother’s exasperated expression. “Come on. No one ever died from eating lasagna in the morning and cereal in the afternoon.”
“No, but you’ll be the death of me,” Nate muttered. He sank into the armchair next to the couch.
“So cranky. I thought you’d be flying high after your date with Kris.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Maybe it didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.” Skylar ignored his denial and examined him with shrewd eyes. “What did you do?”
“Why do you assume I did something?”
“Did you?”
“No.” Yes. “You still haven’t told me how you and Kris know each other.” It was an obvious ploy to change the topic, and it worked.
Skylar became fascinated by the few remaining pieces of soggy cereal floating in her bowl. “I told you, we met at the movies.”
“I don’t know which is more insulting: you not coming up with a more believable story or you thinking I’m stupid enough to fall for your excuse. No one talks to strangers at the movies.” Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t meet her at a nightclub, did you? Because if you have a fake ID—”
“Ugh, no!” Skylar wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like clubs.”
“How would you know unless you’ve been to one?”
She shot him a dark look. “Leave me alone and take a shower. You stink.”
Nate didn’t budge. “Where do girls meet random new friends?” He frowned, his mind flipping through the possibilities. “Beach? Mall? But if so, you wouldn’t be so reluctant to—”
“I met her at MentHer, okay?”
His frown deepened. “Is that a store?” If so, it had a stupid name.
“No.” Skylar avoided his gaze and swirled her spoon in the milk. “It’s an organization. For girls.”
“What kind of organization?” Suspicion seeped into his voice.
She mumbled something under her breath.
“I’m sure your cereal finds your answer fascinating,” Nate said dryly. “But if you want a two-way conversation, you’ll have to speak up.”
Skylar heaved a sigh that sounded annoyed, guilty, and exasperated at the same time. “It’s an organization for girls who lost their mothers.”
Nate greeted the revelation with a blank stare.
“Every girl is assigned a mentor,” Skylar rushed. “An older female who can help her with, like, girl stuff. And they have events and activities and things like movie outings and arts and crafts day. I found out about it through one of the girls at soccer camp. I only joined in June—around the same time Kris started volunteering there—and they haven’t matched me with a mentor yet, which is fine, because Kris has been acting as my de facto mentor and she’s great and I—”
“Wait. Stop.” Nate held up one hand and pinched his temple with the other. “You and Kris met through a non-profit. For girls. Who’ve lost their moms.”
“Yes?” Skylar said meekly.
“That’s the secret you’ve been keeping from me?” He was incredulous. “Why?”
“I didn’t want you to be mad or, like, feel bad.” Skylar gave up on her cereal and set the bowl on the coffee table. Her brow pinched with guilt. “You’ve done so much since…well, you know. Since mom died. Taking care of Dad and me and everything. I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. But sometimes…” She picked at her shorts. “I dunno, I want another female to talk to.”
Nate’s heart squeezed. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that. I know I’m not—” He waved his hand in the air. “I know there are certain things you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to your brother about.”
Skylar nodded. “Like the Great Tampon Fiasco.”
“Jesus, Sky. We promised we would never bring that up again.”
Skylar had gotten her period for the first time three months after their mom died. Their dad had already been deep in the bottle by that point, so Nate had run out to buy her tampons. That had gone well enough. The humiliating part came after, when he’d tried to explain to his then-twelve-year-old sister how to use said tampons.
Nate had no clue how those things worked. He’d Googled it and ended up delivering a stilted presentation that involved cranberry juice, flower analogies, and one traumatized tampon before a horrified Skylar cut him off and said she already knew how to use one. She’d taken sex ed, thank you very much.
The presentation remained one of the most cringe-inducing experiences of Nate’s life, second to his, er, nutty visit to the ER.
“Sorry.” Skylar giggled before the wariness returned to her eyes. “So you’re not upset?”
“Of course not. You can come to me about anything if you want to. But I’m not equipped to handle all the inner workings of the teenage female psyche.” In truth, Nate was relieved that Skylar had someone else to talk to. He tried his best, but some things were meant for female ears only. “But if there’s anything big going on—any reason you joined this organization now—let me know. You don’t have to tell me the details, but we’re family and we got each other’s backs, right?”
Skylar’s lower lip trembled. She nodded once before she flew across the space between them and tackled Nate in a blur.
He grunted at the sudden impact. Oof.
Nevertheless, he hugged her back, a mess of emotion clogging his throat. The last time they’d hugged like this had been on the one-year anniversary of their mom’s death, and that had been a sad, we-have-to-hold-each-other-up-or-we’ll-fall-apart hug. This was a decidedly happier embrace.
“There’s nothing out of the ordinary. I joined now because I didn’t even know MentHer existed before. Promise.” After a minute, Skylar seemed to realize she was a teenage girl and it was uncool of her to hug her brother. She unwrapped herself and wrinkled her nose. “You’re all gross and sweaty. Like I said, you need a shower, Stinky.”
She squealed when Nate grabbed her in a playful headlock and tried to make her smell his armpits. “Who are you calling Stinky?”
“Ew, stop!” she scream-laughed. “My nose!”
They tussled for a few minutes before they called a truce. By then, they were both winded and Nate’s sides hurt from laughing.
Man, that felt good after a craptastic morning.
“You’re a good brother,” Skylar said. “Even if you sweat like a pig.”
He bumped her shin with the toe of his shoe. “Seventeen-year-olds. Queens of the backhanded compliments.”
“Don’t you forget it,” she sassed before switching topics. “So, you didn’t answer my question earlier. What did you do to Kris?”
Nate’s smile faded when he remembered how he’d left Kris in Runyon Canyon. Sort of. He’d technically waited for her, and she’d left with some other guy—unless she’d been lying. But she had no reason to lie.
Guilt and jealousy churned in his stomach.
“I was an asshole to her,” he admitted.
“Language.” Skylar giggled when Nate bopped her with a throw pillow for turning his own words against him.
“Apologize,” she said. “Kris is great. I wish she could be my official mentor, but she’s too young. The MentHer staff is only letting it slide for now because they’ve been so busy and there’s a shortage of volunteers.” Skylar sighed. “She taught me how to do a smoky eye and gave me boy advice.”
Nate flinched. “You’re dating?” That was one area of Skylar’s life he didn’t want to dwell on. Just thinking about her prom night gave him an ulcer, especially when he remembered how he’d spent his own prom night—in a hotel room with the head cheerleader, doing things that would make a porn star blush.
He’d been a teenage boy himself not too long ago, and he knew exactly what went through teenage boys’ minds.
“Not yet.” Skylar grinned. “Don’t worry. Kris gives great advice.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nate narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”
“Apologize to her and maybe she’ll give you the advice herself.” Skylar’s grin widened at his sour expression.
“Way to take sides,” he muttered, even though he knew she was right.
He owed Kris an apology, and soon.
