Narcissistic Tendencies (Dating by Design Book 3)

by Jennifer Peel

  “I hope not,” Nick replied.

  Okay, maybe it was time for her to go. “You can use my bathroom, Mom.” I gave her a little push.

  She flitted away like she was Doris Day until she made it to the stairs and turned around. I swore her leg popped. “One more thing, Nick, do you wear boxers or briefs?”

  I was dying. Literally dying inside. “Goodbye, Mom.”

  “Honey, we need to know these things. You aren’t getting any younger, and it’s important to know about any fertility issues up-front.” She zeroed in on Nick, expecting an answer to the very private question.

  I was never getting married. No man wanted this. Besides, I would never be able to show my face in public after this.

  Nick smirked at me before turning toward my mom. “I’ve got plenty of healthy swimmers left, Stella.”

  I couldn’t believe he said that. And why were men so proud of that achievement? And how did he know that?

  You know, I didn’t want to know.

  Mom looked ever so pleased. “You look like a virile man, but it’s good to check.”

  Words I never needed to hear my mom say in my presence—virile or generous lover.

  As soon as Nick left, she and I were having a serious talk about boundaries.

  She floated up the stairs, leaving me with the large can of worms she opened and a man who couldn’t wait to dangle the slimy things in my face.

  Nick folded his arms. “Kate. Kate. Kate. My biggest fan.”

  I narrowed my eyes until I realized he was in tight faded blue jeans with a white tee, my favorite look on a man. And the way he filled them out was a sight to behold. His cocky attitude, however, helped keep me properly disgruntled.

  “Believe me, I’m not. You’ll never see me with a tattoo of you on my. . . never mind.”

  He pressed his lips together, but his eyes smiled. “I prefer my name all over your notebooks anyway. Kate Wells does have a ring to it.”

  I was in hell by the way my cheeks burned. “That was a long time ago, and it was a stage that I outgrew.”

  “Right.” He wasn’t buying it.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  His arrogance was replaced with concern. He tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, making me wish for things I shouldn’t.

  “I wanted to see how you are this morning. You sounded upset last night.”

  “You could have called.”

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  There was either no oxygen left, or my diaphragm and lungs ceased working. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “That’s what friends do.”

  “Are we friends?” I was finding I so wanted to be, even amongst all my conflicting emotions and rules.

  “I’d like to be, but you’re a difficult woman.”

  “I know.”

  He cocked his beautiful head. “Why is that, Kate?”

  I looked up to the ceiling before meeting his eyes. This desire to open up to him welled up inside of me. I had to dial it back.

  “I made a big mistake once, and I can’t afford to make the same one twice.”

  His eyes bore in, penetrating my core. “Me, either.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  What was more embarrassing than having your mom tell Nicholas Wells that you’d wanted to marry him once upon a time and asking him if he could father her grandchildren? The answer was not a thing. But having him help clean up your parents’ house while your mom searched for your old notebooks with his name scribbled all over them came in a close second place.

  Not to mention how my dad was keeping to himself in the garage. My parents barely even acknowledged each other when we showed up with our famous friend. My dad, like me, was embarrassed to have him there with the state of things, but my mom thought it was a great idea to bring him over here once he offered.

  All I could be thankful for was that I had given that poster of Nick to one of my roommates when I got “married.” But who needed a poster when I had the living version next to me sweeping up the layer of sawdust that coated everything in the dining room? If you asked me, he was even better looking now, with a few gray hairs dancing among the brown. His features had become more refined, and he still had a body like a god.

  I wiped my brow after cleaning the chandelier until it shined again. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I wanted to see those notebooks.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I was eighteen. I’m more mature now, and I was infatuated with Talon Fox, not you.”

  “You know I wrote a lot of his lines?”

  “I think I might have read that somewhere. So you based him off your life as a detective?” I teased.

  “I only gave him my finer qualities.”

  “Like stringing Samantha along for years?”

  “Everyone would have quit watching if we got together.”

  “Yeah, well, you were kind of a jerk to her at times.”

  “That was Talon, not me.”

  “You said you based him off you.” I smirked.

  He stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. “I said I gave him my finer qualities. I don’t string women along.” He made sure I felt those last words.

  I had to shake off his intensity. “Tell me about your date last night.” I hesitated to ask, even though it was part of my job, but there was this part of me that didn’t want to know because . . . well . . . you know. But since we were talking about stringing along women, I thought this was a good time to ask.

  His brows came together. “Did you match me with her based on our profiles?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I ran the numbers, and while there were other women more compatible with your profile based on percentages only, that isn’t the only factor I took into account.”

  “What were the other factors?”

  The table looked like it needed to be polished again. Now was a good time. I picked up the cloth I’d used before.

  “Kate.” He wouldn’t be ignored.

  I met his gaze and bit my lip. “Didn’t Kenadie tell you how this all works?”

  “I’d like to hear it from you.”

  I let out a heavy breath and paused. “The reason we have relationship managers is because our questionnaires don’t always give us the full picture. That’s why we do client dates and have psych evaluations. We use every tool we can to determine the best match for you.”

  “Based on Chanel, I must have made a very good impression on you.”

  Instead of being People’s Sexiest Man Alive, he should have been the cockiest.

  I shook my head. “Wait, you like her?”

  He shrugged. “She was nice enough, but not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “Hmm.” He thought for a moment.

  It was the first time I’d seen him at a loss for words.

  “Someone who aligned more with my profile,” he finally answered.

  “Is that what you want?”

  He did that neck stretching thing again. “Like I told you before, it is my . . . preference through Binary Search.”

  I threw the cloth down. “You need to think about this. You have Skye’s feelings to consider. And she doesn’t want your girlfriends calling you bae, whatever that means. And not to be judgmental, but do you really want to be with the young tarts you’ve been linked with all over social media? Think about what message that sends to your sweet, wonderful daughter about body image and self-respect. She’s at a vulnerable and impressionable age right now.”

  He leaned the broom against the chair before meeting me at the middle of the table. His amusement was apparent, though I couldn’t figure out why he seemed to be enjoying himself. He shook his head while swiping some hair out of my face. He really shouldn’t touch me. It did things to me. He was too touchy-feely for a friend.

  “Relax, Kate. Take a breath.”

  I did take one, not beca
use he suggested it, but because I needed to. In addition to several more.

  “There you go,” he said after I took my last deep breath. “I didn’t think you could get so worked up. I like this side of you.”

  I did the wrong thing and stared into his eyes. They were like wells of water waiting to draw you in before you fell right over the edge. “Nick,” I said in hushed tones, “please think about Skye.”

  His features softened. “She has been in every thought I’ve had for the last sixteen years. Though I like that you are studying me, you can’t believe everything you read about me.”

  “What should I believe?” There was a childlike pleading in my voice. I’d been asking that question for the last nine years. More like, was there any man I could believe in?

  He tilted his head, again taking a moment to think before he spoke. “What’s right in front of you.”

  “That hasn’t always worked out for me.” I picked up the cloth again, ready to get back to work.

  “How’s the other way working out for you?”

  Those words were like a knife in the heart. “You like to cut to the chase, don’t you?”

  “I like you. And I want to get to know you. You may even find out how much you still like me if you were willing to admit it.”

  “Or you could be a huge disappointment.”

  “I’ve never let my fans down before. By the way, which poster did you have of me?”

  “I think we should get back to work.”

  “By the red in your cheeks, it must have been a good one.”

  “I bet you think they were all good.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “If we are going to be friends, I’m going to need you to dial your ego back to mere mortal level.”

  “For you, I will try.”

  I threw the cloth at him.

  He caught it easily with a satisfied expression.

  I turned to tackle my next task of cleaning the hutch, but Nick grabbed my hand. “Kate.”

  I had no choice but to turn toward the man I felt this indescribable connection to. My eyes drifted toward our hands. I swore I could see sparks crackle between the two. And what was it about a masculine hand that was so attractive? Perhaps it was a representation of things hoped for. Someone to watch over you, to walk beside you, lend comfort when needed.

  “I need to thank you.”

  My head lifted. “For what?”

  “Your treatment of and concern for Skye.”

  “Unlike you, she’s very easy to like.” I pulled my hand away reluctantly.

  My slight didn’t faze him, but he seemed to regret the loss of my hand by the way his eyes stayed fixed on it until it rested by my side. “You know, she takes after me.”

  “Uh-huh. I was thinking more like Jack.”

  “Speaking of my father and daughter, do you plan to play matchmaker for everyone in my family?”

  “I only made the introduction between Nan and your dad. He clearly had his sights set on her before I ever said a word.”

  “How about my daughter?”

  He reminded me I should contact Skye. She never texted back last night. I took that as a good sign. “What about her?” I feigned innocence.

  “You are aiding and abetting her growing up.”

  “I’m sorry to say, Dad, there is no stopping that train. And Liam seems like a nice boy, or is that young man?”

  “Skye’s a minor compared to him.”

  “I don’t think it’s illegal for them to see each other; besides, I thought you liked him.”

  “I did.”

  “He’s pretty shy, so I don’t think you have too much to worry about. He could hardly string a sentence together when he was around her.”

  “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.”

  “And why’s that?”

  He leaned in, taking an intimate stance. “The ones who run and hide from you have a way of captivating you. They leave you wanting more. You find yourself wondering what’s going through their head and how to gain access to their thoughts. It’s almost maddening.”

  I swallowed and stepped back. “I don’t think that’s Liam ploy, or a conscious effort on his part.”

  “It’s their genuineness that makes them even more intriguing.” He stood up straight and went on his merry way, picking up the broom again.

  I had to take a moment to reflect. He had this way of dazing me with profound thoughts, whether indirectly or directly aimed right at my heart. Like Liam, I knew I ran and hid whenever I could. I had genuine reasons for doing so. But I was beginning to question whether my good reasons were good for me. Or was this the first time I had to put them to the test and I was failing? I watched Nick sweep up a mess he didn’t create, using time he could be spending with family or working, all to help me. It was hard not to fall for a man like him. Was he genuine?

  “Nick.”

  “Yes.” He turned and met my gaze.

  “I know I said it before, but thank you. This means a lot to me.”

  He did a scan of the room filled with half completed or poorly done projects, like the crown molding that wasn’t on straight and hadn’t been painted, or the wainscoting that was only done on one wall. “Did you say your dad recently retired?”

  I nodded. “Last year, right after his heart attack.”

  An a-ha moment lighted his gorgeous eyes. “I may have a hunch what’s going on with your dad,” he said barely above a whisper.

  I walked closer so we could keep what he had to say private between us. I was desperate to hear his thoughts. If he could tell me what was going on with my dad, I would kiss him. No, I wouldn’t. But I would want to. I already did want to. Anyway.

  “Do you think it’s another woman?” This was my worst fear and I wanted to have it dispelled one way or another.

  He shook his head. “But I think your mom has something to do with it.”

  I held my heart. “You do?”

  “I think your dad is trying to prove to her that he’s still a provider.”

  I pursed my lips. “I don’t know, my parents were never a traditional kind of couple. My dad was the main breadwinner, but he didn’t ever seem to pride himself on that.”

  “That only means he’s a good man. But believe me, as men, we want to take care of our families, and our careers are our identity, whether we mean for them to be or not. When those are gone, we feel lost.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  He mulled over his thoughts before speaking. This was obviously a difficult subject for him. “When they told me that On the Edge was being canceled, I guess you could say I had an identity crisis. Every show I did, every screenplay and script I wrote immediately after amounted to nothing or, frankly, embarrassment.”

  “Yeah, that show you did right after was . . .”

  “Awful,” he finished my sentence. “I know. I did it because I was afraid if I didn’t do something immediately I would be forgotten. And I was determined to prove to the studio execs that it was a mistake to cancel my show.” He cleared his throat. “It didn’t work out so well for me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What I should have done in the first place—take some time, process. Wait for something I was passionate about.”

  “Have you found that?”

  He drew in close enough to whisper in my ear, “I believe I have.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nick was right. How had that happened? I was supposed to be the psychologist, or at the very least the daughter. Why did my dad feel okay opening up to Nick and not me? Nick said sometimes all it took was a beer, a garage, and some man talk. I think it might have taken more than one beer since they were out in the garage for some time before they came in talking like best friends.

  Now Nick was helping my dad fix the crown molding while Mom and I were sitting on the back porch eating nondairy strawberry ice cream that evening. I was wondering about the perplexing man who used to hang
on my wall. Mom was swooning.

  “Katie,” she fanned herself with her hand holding her spoon, which wasn’t the best idea in the sweltering heat. She flicked some ice cream on her muumuu. “The chemistry between you two is palpable. Your aura is singing right now.”

  “Mom, shhh. He might hear you.”

  “So what? His aura is calling for you, like it’s been searching for years for something it’s lost and now it’s been found.” She cocked her head. “Have you two ever met before?” She immediately waved that idea off with her spoon again, now getting ice cream, or whatever this healthy knockoff was, on the covered patio. “That’s silly, you would have told me.”

  I focused on the pool, not wanting to lie to her. Why did everyone want a piece of that day? That was mine, all mine. I had to admit that it kind of freaked me out that she’d guessed we had met before.

  “Maybe you met in a previous life?” She didn’t give me time to answer her first inquiry.

  I took the out, hoping she wouldn’t mention us meeting previously again. “Perhaps.”

  “I know you think I’m talking nonsense, but there is something about the two of you. I’ve never felt a connection so strong.”

  I inadvertently perked up at the word connection. It didn’t go unnoticed.

  A meaningful smile played on my mother’s face. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  I took a bite of the fake ice cream and tried to savor it, but I missed the fatty calories.

  Mom grinned at me the entire time, knowing I was stalling.

  “I’ll admit I’m attracted to him,” I whispered. “Who wouldn’t be?”

  “You know it runs deeper than physical attraction.”

  I shrugged. “Mom, I’m his relationship manager and . . . well . . . you know.”

  She reached over and patted my bare knee. “I do know, but Douglas,” she said his name with such vitriol, as she should, “he wouldn’t be in there,” she pointed toward the patio door, “helping your dad.”

  “No. But he was in Dad’s study and they would talk for hours about ancient cultures and rituals. He dazzled you with all his knowledge of herbs and tribal remedies. Admit it, Mom, you and Dad both loved Douglas once upon a time. We all did. We were taken in by his charisma.”