Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

With that behind me, I allowed myself to think about dating Nate. If I wanted this, the entire article I’d started was toast. I decided not to delete it, not yet—I wasn’t that stupid—but I had to think of something else I could write and submit as a freelance article if I ever wanted a career in journalism.

I started with a copy of the original article that slanted toward hating Nate Bowmen. I changed my perspective. I started with the line, What if we were all wrong?

My fingers flew over the keyboard as I broke down how social media had the power to make or break someone, regardless of the facts.

I was still writing when my phone rang.

“Too soon?” he asked, and damn if his voice wasn’t sexy.

“To call? That depends,” I said cryptically.

“On what?”

“On your perspective.”

“What’s yours?” he asked.

“I wonder what took you so long.” Funny how this conversation would have played out differently just two days ago.

“Mmm. You could come over.”

“Oh, I could definitely come, but I have a stalker who found out where I work, and I was sent home so as to not be a distraction.”

“Damn, Avery. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry for. You can’t help the public’s interest in your every movement.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

Was there a note of worry in his voice?

“I don’t know, Nate. I’m afraid to leave the house. I can’t get that morning-after pill for fear it will end up being the next headline on TMZ. But no worries there. I checked and I’m not ovulating.” Though I’d placed all my faith in an app.

He was quiet for a second. “Is there anything I can do?”

“You can remind me why this is a good idea.”

“You could sneak out of the house and meet me somewhere. Then I could show you. Or I could sneak in your window.”

Damn, I giggled like a schoolgirl. “You would sneak in my window?”

“Tell me where you live.”

The sun had gone down, but Dad wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. Tonight was his poker night with his buddies.

“I think I want to see that.”

“Text me your address. I’ll show you my stealthy skills.”

“Is this something you have to do often?” I teased.

“No, but growing up I did. I’ll tell you all about the time I had to leave bare-ass naked in the snow.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear that.”

An hour later, there was a knock on my window, which scared the crap out of me. I stopped typing and went to the window and opened it.

“You were serious.” I’d thought for sure he’d knock on the front door.

His grin was blinding. “You gave me details of where your room was.”

“Where did you park?” I asked.

“Can I come in? It’s cold.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I stepped back, feeling my cheeks heat.

He was nimble and jumped up, holding the lip of the window before levering himself up and in. Then he closed the window before dusting snow off his pants legs and feet right under the window. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” I said, still feeling bad about leaving him out there while questioning him.

He glanced over to where I stood near my desk and open laptop. “You write?”

I snapped the lid shut so fast it was almost comical. “A little,” I admitted. “But I think you owe me a story.”

The distraction worked as his eyes lifted from the computer to me. He smirked. “Why don’t I show you?” He winked before unwinding a tale. “I came in a little like that. Her window was a little higher up than yours and it had snowed the night before, too.”

“Okay, then what?” I asked.

“Well, she stood there”—he pointed toward the wall opposite the window—“in her bra and panties.” He waited.

“Oh, you want to act this out?”

His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “Do you want to hear or not?” he dared.

I did. So I pulled off my shirt and my jeans and moved where he indicated he wanted me to stand. “Go on,” I said.

“She was standing there, and I was dumbfounded. This girl wasn’t known to be—” I warned him with a look to think about what he said next. “She wasn’t a free spirit, so to speak.” I nodded in approval of his cleaned-up description. “I was like frozen in place until she said, ‘Are you going to just stand there?’”

He nodded at me, and I assumed he wanted me to totally act out the part. “Are you going to stand there or what?” I said in my own way.

“Damn. You’re good. You sound way sexier than she did.”

“Sweet talker. Keep going,” I said, encouraging him into action. I was looking forward to what came next.

“I’m a teenage boy who hadn’t seen a lot of action at this point. I’d certainly never been in a girl’s room. My dad’s truck. That’s a different story. But back to that night. I didn’t waste time. Hell, I even took off my socks because I didn’t want her to change her mind and my brain had gone offline.”