Page 48 of Fault Lines
Normally, I would have lost interest in what someone was doing by now, but I found myself transfixed. I even liked working with Nate at the shop, even though I knew he was giving up his real job time to do it. It was like we were friends now, real friends, the kind you were always happy to see. I still didn’t know why he bothered coming in, but I hoped he never stopped.
He opened the oven, and the smell of roast duck poured out, thick and rich. My stomach actually growled—it was embarrassing.
Nate grinned as he plated the food, putting little piles of vegetables around the duck and drizzling sauce on top. It looked exactly like those fancy TV shows where you think there’s no way the food tastes half as good as it looks.
We sat at the table, me where he pointed, and he went ahead and overloaded my plate. He did the same for himself, took the chair across from me, and raised his glass.
“Bon Appetit!” he said, already shoveling in green beans. I almost burst out laughing.
I cut into the duck, tried it with the chutney like I’d seen him do, and I couldn’t help it—I made a noise, actually moaned a little. It was that good.
Nate definitely noticed, but he didn’t tease. He just looked pleased.
“This is incredible!” I said after my first bite, already going in for another. “You could be a chef!”
He shook his head and laughed. “No, thanks. I like cooking, but not enough to make it a career. I’d rather keep it fun.”
“Well, if you ever get tired of your day job, I’d eat in your restaurant every night.”
He glanced up at me, eyes bright. “What about you? Any hobbies?”
I shrugged and picked at my vegetables. “Reading, I guess. Nothing very exciting. I’ve never been able to stick with anything for long. Which is probably why I don’t have a career. I can never make up my mind.”
“Except Cam. And reading. That’s something,” he mused.
“True. But I will say, I love working at your grandfather’s shop. I honestly do. I didn’t expect to last more than a week, but now I can’t imagine not going in. I want to buy one of those fancy coffee machines for my house. If Cam would let me.”
He smiled again, dimple showing, and this time he looked a little shy.
“I’m glad you like it there. Pops is obsessed with you, you know. Tells me all the time. I never liked it much myself, until you…” He trailed off, looking away, like he regretted saying that.
I put my hand over his, squeezing. “You’re one of the reasons I love it, too.”
He just smiled, softer now, and changed the subject.
“What do you think of the green beans?”
“Fabulous. Like the rest of this dinner.”
He chewed, swallowed, pointed at my wine glass. “This is good too. Where did you get it?”
“There’s this little wine shop by my house, right next to a flower shop. It always makes me think of that phrase, ‘days of wine and roses.’ I don’t know why, but it makes me happy.”
We finished dinner talking about everything and nothing, clearing the dishes together, hands brushing on the wet plates. When the last cup went into the cabinet, I glanced at my phone. Nine o’clock. Cam wouldn’t be home for hours, probably, and I didn’t feel like waiting around the house for him this time.
“Do you have to work tonight?” I asked, hopeful.
Nate smirked. “Nope. Want to watch a movie?”
I nodded, more relieved than I’d let myself admit. He led the way to the couch and I sank down into the leather, the cushions swallowing me up.
“If I fall asleep during the movie, it’s because you have the comfiest couch in the world,” I mumbled, curling up with my wine glass already in hand.
He grabbed the remote from the side table and settled in next to me on the couch, close enough that our thighs touched. I didn’t nudge away. I liked the warmth, all the more so because he was safe and easy, just my friend.
He flicked the TV on, thumb moving through the streaming apps.
“Anything you want to watch?” he asked.
