Page 66 of The Write Track
“You bet I will,” Nathan agreed. “I love conversations like that.”
He was telling the truth. That meant I had to as well. “Mom, Nathan isn’t my boyfriend,” I blurted. “He’s a good friend, but we’re not together.”
Nathan sent me a surprised look but didn’t say anything.
“I can’t lie to her,” I explained to him. “After everything, I just can’t.”
Understanding gleamed in his eyes. “Sorry.” He rubbed my shoulder. “I thought I was helping. I figured she might melt down about her daughter staying in a cabin with some random guy she doesn’t know all that well.”
Mom burst out laughing at the same time I did.
“Were you not listening to the stories I told you about my mother being Wiccan?” I asked, wiping a stray tear of mirth from my cheek. “She’s all about free love.”
“It’s true,” Mom agreed, her smile rueful. “I told her it was best to give the milk away for free at least three times before agreeing to date somebody, because sexual chemistry is the most important thing in a relationship.”
Nathan’s eyebrows moved toward his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t mean for the long-term health of a relationship,” she assured him. “That requires emotional chemistry. However, if you can’t click physically right from the beginning, it’s a sign nothing else is going to fit together at a later date.”
“Wow.” Nathan’s expression was hard to read. “That’s an interesting path to choose.”
“I always taught her about safe sex,” Mom continued.
I slapped my hands over my face. “Mom.” I was exasperated.
“She’s still such a prude sometimes, even though I had a policy of open conversation in this house,” Mom explained. “I brought condoms into the house when she was fourteen. I knew she wouldn’t be having sex at that point—she really was too much of a prude—but I wanted them around so she felt comfortable talking about them.”
“She kept the same box in the house for years, until I was seventeen,” I said to Nathan. “That was the year I brought my first boyfriend home for Christmas dinner. Alex Withers.” I grimaced as I looked back on that night.
“I knew he was not her forever,” Mom volunteered. “He had a terrible aura. I wanted her to get the sex out of the way because I was convinced she would dump him right away.”
“She gave Alex a box of condoms and a plate of homemade brownies for Christmas,” I said to Nathan, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“Man, I’m trying to imagine what I would have done if my high school girlfriend’s mom gave me condoms and pot brownies for Christmas before I was out of high school.”
I frowned at him. “I didn’t say they were pot brownies.”
“They are in my head,” he replied, not missing a beat. “Also, when I use that scene in a book, pot brownies are going to be involved. I guarantee it.”
Mom didn’t look bothered. In fact, she giggled. “You write too? Is that how you met?”
Nathan nodded. “Bella and I have the same agent. We’re at a monthlong writing retreat—although we can come and go at our discretion—and we have some other friends we’ve been hanging with.”
“And you’re pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend?” Mom looked momentarily perplexed. “Tell me how that works.”
“Oh, well…” For the first time since sitting down, Nathan looked worried.
I patted his knee under the table, which sent sparks shooting up my arm. This crush was going to turn things awkward if I didn’t get a handle on it. But that was a problem for after this call.
“Mom, I promised to tell you the truth after… well, after what happened.” I lowered my eyes to regroup.
“After the goat scrotum hurt you so much,” she said darkly.
“Yes, well…” I took a deep breath. “Preston is here,” I blurted. “He weaseled his way into the event somehow. He’s positioning himself as an event promoter for authors. Nathan is pretending to be my boyfriend to keep Preston away.”
I was reminded of an avenging angel as something dark flashed in my mother’s eyes. “Are you kidding me? He’s there?”
I knew she wouldn’t like it. “Yes.” Embarrassment rippled through me. I’d caused all of this because I’d been dazzled by Preston’s social standing. What the hell was wrong with me? “I’m sorry.”
