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“She’s a hard worker. You hired well,” Nate said then took one of the long toasted pieces of bread that came with our salads and shoved it in his mouth.
Octavia cocked an eyebrow at him as if she wasn’t thrilled with the way he was eating then turned to me. “Agreed. I can tell you’re going to be easy to work with. I like you and I don’t like people easily. You’ve got that something about you that people are drawn to and that will only help the store. I need the store to flourish so daddy will let me continue with more Octavia’s.”
A part of me felt admiration for her. A very, very small part. She wanted to do something with her life. Make a mark. Be more than a socialite and I admired that. You had to. I saw so many like her on the news and media that were just living off their parents wealth. Sure, Octavia was also living off her father’s fortune but she was trying to make a fortune herself. He was just her stepping stool. . . . Or her very high ladder. Or her private jet. It wouldn’t be too hard to make a success with the money she had to play with. But still. She was trying. That counted for something.
I wasn’t much better. I’d lived with my parents well past the age I should have. I had let them feed me and put a roof over my head. And buy me a car, and buy my clothing . . . it was all on a much smaller scale but in comparison it was the same.
“Nate won’t be here much and I will need to travel once we get things going. So, it will be on you to handle everything soon. I believe you can do that. We will look into hiring two other employees to work under you before I leave for Spain at the end of the month. Nate will more than likely be back in Rosemary Beach or in Beverly Hills by then. But I feel confident I can trust you.”
Why would Nate be in Beverly Hills? He hated it there. Other than visiting his other grandfather he tried to go there as little as possible. I glanced at him and he was watching me again. I only met his eyes briefly before dropping them back to my salad.
“Thank you,” I told Octavia. “I’ll do my best.”
“Great.”
After we returned to the store I made myself busy in the front. Although my thoughts stayed on how odd Octavia and Nate were with each other. There was no connection of any kind. They seemed annoyed by the other. Did he realize that?
Just as I began to wonder if I should say something to him before he made a mistake and married her I heard laughter. I paused and listened. It was both of them. Their voices mingled as they laughed. Setting down the dress in my hand I walked quietly over to the door. It was wrong to eavesdrop but I did it anyway. They were laughing and that seemed so out of place after watching them together.
“I love your stories,” Octavia said with a hint of amusement still in her voice.
“It’s a gift,” he replied.
“Hmmm, one of the many reasons I love you,” was her response then the distinct sound of kissing followed. It wasn’t loud. It was just the sound of bodies pressed close. Breathing erratic and choppy, and silence when there had been talking.
I stepped back. Eavesdropping was never a good thing and those who did it deserved to be punished. This was my punishment.
Nate Finlay
I MADE EXCUSES to stay away from Octavia’s for three days. The more distance I could put between Bliss and I the better things would be for all three of us. Octavia was back and that was enough to remind me what I needed in a life. What fit me and was safe, because being near Bliss was not safe. Just being in a room with Bliss wasn’t safe. She tempted me with a life I didn’t want.
Each evening I listened to Octavia talk about Bliss’s ideas for the store. I took her out to dinner to the places she chose and was supportive without intervening. I did the things I normally did. However, when she asked to go listen to a band on Friday night at Live Bay I paused. That was a bad idea. More than likely Bliss would be there. Dating Octavia with Bliss watching wasn’t okay with me. If the situation were reversed it wouldn’t be easy for me to watch her with another guy. I didn’t think it was fair to Bliss. Even if she’d moved on and was over what we had or what we thought we had in the past, rubbing the other’s face in that history seemed cruel.
