Page 42 of The Write Track
“What did you do?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Bree grabbed my wrist and squeezed tightly to shut me up.
“I have no idea what you mean.” Preston was the picture of innocence. “If anything, I did you a favor.” He kept walking. “These are the honeymoon cabins.” He pointed toward two cabins, which were twice as big as the smaller ones. That wasn’t saying much—they were still small—but they were definitely bigger than the ones he’d deemed singles.
“Now, we don’t have any married couples coming to the retreat, but we do have two engaged couples,” he drawled.
Oh no.I hadn’t worked this part out in my head. I’d just assumed we would all have our own cabins and that all Nathan and I would have to do would be pretend one of us was sleeping in the other’s space. No big deal. But Preston had arranged it so we were actually sharing a cabin.
Crap on toast. “I…”
Before I could think through what I was going to say, an arm slung around my shoulders. I felt Nathan’s warm presence as he moved in at my side.
When I looked up at him, my lower lip trembled with fear. What were we going to do?
He didn’t look worried.
“Hey, Preston.” He was projecting an aura of boredom, like he was just over this entire thing. “I didn’t realize you were going to be out here today.”
“Oh, I’m here for the duration,” Preston replied. He shot a challenging look at Nathan. “I’m staying in the executive suite in the administration building.”
Executive suite? At a campground? He was making that up. Not that it mattered. He just had to be more special thaneverybody else. I used to see it as self-assuredness. Now I knew what it really was. He was insecure—about everything.
“You don’t have a problem staying in one of the honeymoon suites, do you?” Preston prodded. He looked like he was about to crow like a rooster. I hated that he was about to win.
“Of course not,” Nathan replied, not missing a beat. “I happen to love a good honeymoon.” He gave me a ridiculous wink right out of a bad soap opera then made a purring sound that would have made me gag under different circumstances. “Don’t you, Bellarino?”
That nickname needed to go. It was irritating… and weird… and something that might be said to a child. I was not a child. Still, I smiled because it was the only way to ruin Preston’s day. “Of course. The only thing that would make it better would be a heart-shaped bathtub in there.”
“Right?” Nathan was good at going with the flow. He nodded. “Remember that heart-shaped bathtub we had when we got the honeymoon suite at that hotel in Atlanta before our flight out to meet with our agents?”
Okay, now he was getting into dangerous territory. What if Preston asked too many questions about that trip? Immediately, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. Preston didn’t actually care about anything in my life. He just wanted to beat Nathan. And me, really. This was about winning, not love.
“What a passion pit, right?” I fake-laughed at the memory. “We got bubbles everywhere.”
“I had no idea that the jets would actually create that many bubbles. Why would they provide bubble bath if it was going to create a mess like that, right?” He gave Preston a “what are you going to do” head bob. “We were naked and sliding everywhere in the bathroom, trying to escape. We kept slapping together, bubbles flying everywhere… along with everything else, if you know what I mean.”
My cheeks were on fire, and I had to look down. Why had he taken it so far off the rails?
“It sounds like a fun trip,” Preston said stiffly.
“Yeah, totally,” Nathan agreed. He kept his arm around my shoulders. “So, I am confused about exactly how this is going to work. The details were vague.”
“Right.” Preston looked excited to have something else to talk about. “So the readers come on weekly intervals. They’re not staying in the cabins. Those are all taken by authors.
“You’re not expected to stay here for the entire week, every week for a month,” he continued.
“Good, because that was never going to happen.” Nathan smiled, but there was no friendliness to it.
“The readers come on the weekends,” Preston continued. “There will be events just for them, including yoga and reader circles. They’ll be camping in their own RVs or in tents on that side of the campground.” He waved vaguely.
“Then on Fridays and Saturdays, you guys will make yourselves available for lunches and big bonfire events with the readers. You’re expected to interact with them for a few hours, and that’s it.”
None of this made any sense to me. That was probably because it had been arranged by a guy who had no idea how author events were supposed to work. He hadn’t swooped in to throw an innovative experience for authors and readers. He’d taken over to torture me. Not only did he have no interest in making this a good event, but he would only be happy if this entire thing ended with me in tears, meekly following him back to Boston.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen.
“And what about the rest of the time?” Bree asked. “Like… you have these cabins reserved for us for a month but we don’thave to stay here except for the weekends? Is that what you’re saying?”
