Nate can be a pain in the ass. He can be overbearing and disorganized and forgets to order the lids for the to-go cups. But he has the biggest heart of anyone I know. And that’s why I trust him—why I’ve let him in despite the fact that I haven’t known him for nearly ten years like I have Lisbeth.
Nate Hughes has proven to me time and time again that he’s a good egg. I’ve witnessed him taking care of the people around him, putting himself last, worrying over whether someone has a safe place to sleep or if they’re hungry. He had Murray bring me soup when I was sick. Changed my oil and saved me money. Gave me a freaking job when I needed one.
He’s earned my trust by being one of the very, very few people who has never failed me … or anything around him.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. For giving a shit? For looking out for me?” I shrug. “For telling me to have a burger before the gala.”
He grins. “It’s my pleasure.”
I lean against the wall. A clamor happens on the other side of it, and I hear Murray’s voice shout from down the hall.
“Ah, Murray is back,” I tease him. “That took longer than expected.”
Nate faces his desk again and waves me off with one hand. “Take your sarcasm elsewhere. Some of us have a business to run.”
I open my mouth but am interrupted by the door opening beside me. Paige sticks her head in the room. Her dark brown curls bounce as she looks around.
“Oh, hi, Shaye,” she says, surprise written all over her face. “I didn’t know you were here. You’re not on the schedule, are you?”
“Not tonight. I work again on Sunday.”
“I work tonight and tomorrow and someone forgot to order lids again.” She winks at me before we both turn to look at our boss.
Nate’s fist slams into his desk. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” Paige laughs. “Want me to run to Target and see if they still have some?”
Nate groans. “I guess. I don’t know what choice we have.”
“Well, we could just order them from the supplier …” Paige giggles, ducking from a piece of wadded-up paper that Nate throws at her. “I’ll go. See you later, Shaye. I’m taking money from the register for this, Nate.”
“Just put a note in the drawer and then—”
“Attach the receipt,” Paige says, finishing his sentence. “It’s not like I don’t do this every other week.”
“Get out of here,” Nate jokes.
The door closes softly. Nate’s gaze lingers for a long second before he turns his attention back to his computer.
“She likes you, you know,” I say, watching him closely for a reaction.
“Who?”
“Come on, Nate. Paige. She likes you.”
He scoffs at me.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask, putting a hand on my hip. “She’s cute. She’s fun. She’s a hard worker.”
“Not my type.”
It’s not the words he uses but the tone he chooses that both piques my curiosity but keeps me from pushing. Instead, I twist the door handle and pull it open again.
“I just came by to check the schedule for next week and to tell you my big gala news,” I say.
He doesn’t look at me. “Don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
“That’s the plan.”
“It’s a good one.”
I roll my eyes and step into the hallway. My phone buzzes in my hand.
Oliver: I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at six. Does that work?
My fingers fly over the screen.
Me: Yes. Need my address?
Oliver: Already got it from your employee file.
Me: Isn’t that an invasion of my privacy? *winking emoji*
Oliver: Not when I’m the boss. *winking emoji* See you tomorrow.
Me: I’ll be looking forward to it.
I wait a few seconds for a reply, but one doesn’t come.
It’s just as well. I have things to do, and if he kept texting me, I would’ve stood here all night and bantered with him. I can’t help myself.
I slip my phone in my pocket and practically skip out of The Gold Room.
Nineteen
Oliver
“She told me not to tell you, but—”
“We know,” I say, cutting Boone off.
He stops mid-step, the door to the conference room swinging closed behind him. The look on his face is confusion and surprise muddled with anger. He takes in Holt, Wade, Coy, and me around the long, marble table and then huffs.
“All of you know?” he asks, raising a brow.
“All of us.” Coy kicks back in his chair and sighs. “Welcome to the club.”
Boone’s jaw drops in a display of frustration as he sits next to Coy. “I was the last one, wasn’t I? Mom told me last.” He says it like he’s not sure how to digest that piece of information.
Normally, I’d joke with him and make some assholish remark about how he’s the baby of the family, and she was probably afraid he’d cry. But this isn’t a normal day, and it’s nothing to joke about—not even with Boone.