I laugh. “Yes, seriously.”
“Do you want to move? You shouldn’t have to deal with all that. We can find another room for you; there are plenty. I’ll help you with your things.”
It’s nice that he’s so concerned for me, and I’m glad that in addition to being so incredibly hot and so incredibly great in bed that he also seems to be a good person. I don’t allow myself to think too much about it; seeming and being are two different things. I’ve been fooled by appearances before. The man on the other side of the shore is proof of that.
“I can stay where I am, it’s okay,” I reply, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. “I don’t want to be petty about it.”
Nate gives me a long look before he speaks again. “If you feel uncomfortable, you’ll tell me?”
I feel a tingling warmth beneath my skin when he says those words. “I will.”
“I’ll kick his ass if you want me to.”
Nate’s so at ease out here, his left arm folded behind his head, the rope to my inner tube loosely grasped in his right hand. His legs are so long that they’re knee-deep in the water, creating a nice drag that keeps us moving down the river at a very slow, leisurely pace.
“That’s a sweet offer,” I reply. “But I’d appreciate it if you just keep us steady on our course here.”
He lets out a laugh through a wide, lazy smile. “You’re really not into the outdoors, are you?”
“I’m more of a fan of air conditioning. And I like looking at nature, just not really participating in it.”
“Have you ever been to Colorado?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“You’d change your mind if you came to Boulder. It’s gorgeous; you can’t help but want to be outside all the time.”
I want to tell him that if he knew me better he’d rethink that statement. I could help it, and I would help it. But he looks so happy that I decide to ask him a little bit about himself instead.
“Gabby told me that you manage a sporting goods store there, is that right?”
“I manage a chain of them, yeah. I worked there while I was in college, and when I graduated a few years ago they promoted me to store manager. Now I’m regional manager.”
“That kind of job seems like it would suit you.”
“It does?”
I nod. “Well, you rappel, as we both know. And you’re an expert inner tube navigator.” He smiles, and it seems to make him happy that I remember how he got that scar on his hand. How could I forget? Asking about that scar in the airport bar led to one of the best nights of my life.
“I take it your job keeps you in the air conditioning?”
“It does, as a matter of fact. I own my own business.”
“Really?” Nate raises his eyebrows, and I get the feeling he’s impressed with me.
“Really.”
“A business that specializes in businessing, or…”
“I’m a web developer. I make websites for small businesses and charities. Things like that.”
“Wow,” he replies, raising his eyebrows. “That must be nice.”
“I like being my own boss. I get to set my own hours, which is pretty great.”
“There’s a ‘but’ in there, I can tell.”
I bite my bottom lip, dragging it through my teeth as I think of a way to address that ‘but’ without sounding like I’m ungrateful or unhappy. “I’m proud of the work that I do. But…sometimes it just feels so insignificant. When I was younger, I always thought that when I got out of college and started doing my own thing that I’d be making a real difference. That I’d be changing the world.”
“We can’t all cure cancer,” he says, skimming his fingertips along the surface of the water. “Besides, I think scale is overrated when you talk about change. Just because it isn’t big doesn’t mean that you’re not doing it.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “Maybe you are changing the world.”
“Doubtful,” I reply. “None of my clients have ever said, ‘Wow, Callie. That’s a groundbreaking font choice.”
Nate laughs and kicks his legs out of the water, sending a shower of droplets raining down in front of us.
“Maybe not, but you make a website for a business, and that increases their exposure, helps them generate sales and revenue. One of those business owners might take that money and help build a community center or start an outreach program. Or maybe they’re taking the money that website helped them earn and sending their kid to college. Maybe that kid will do something great, and you’ll have had a hand in it. You just have to look at things a little differently.”
I turn to him, absolutely speechless, completely in awe. I haven’t ever thought of it like that before. And even though I don’t dare tell him this, a small part of me is beginning to look at him differently, too.
Nate and I continue floating along the river for a little while longer, the two of us silent more often than not, just enjoying each other’s company and the beauty of the nature surrounding us. Soon, clouds roll in, and small droplets of rain plink against the water. Nate paddles us over to the riverbank, and once he’s on solid ground he reaches down, clasps my hand, and helps me up. I’m surprised to see that we haven’t really floated all that far; the boathouse is just a hundred yards or so away. Nate picks up the inner tubes and slides his arms through the middle of each of them, then anchors them over his shoulders.
I follow him down a narrow dirt path, and when we reach the dock I slip on my shoes and wrap my towel around my shoulders. Nate throws the tubes in the boathouse and hurries back down to the dock. I hand him a towel after he puts his shirt on, and I shiver when the wind picks up, chilling me to the bone.
“Here,” Nate says, draping his towel over me. He takes my bag and slings it over his shoulder, then wraps his arm around me and tucks me into his side, blocking most of the wind and a good bit of the rain.
We walk back to the house at a fast clip. Nate, who’s soaking wet, and me, feeling warmer than I can ever remember.
I TAKE a shower after we return from the river, all the while thinking over what Nate said to me earlier; about being able to touch people’s lives with the work that I do, even though it doesn’t always feel that important while I’m doing it. He has an interesting perspective on life, and he makes me think. It’s a little unsettling that I find myself wanting to seek him out just to talk to him, to listen to the things that he has to say.
It’s almost time for dinner, so I get dressed and head out into the hallway, ready to make my way to the main house. Of course I run into Ethan. I’m tempted to turn and retreat into my room, but I need to get this over with. I haven’t really spoken to him since he’s been here, apart from a quick hello on the day he arrived.
He’s wearing a yellow button-down shirt and a pair of loose-fitting khakis. I’ve seen that shirt before; I bought it for him when we first moved in together. I doubt he remembers that I’m the one who gave it to him.
“Hey,” he says, rubbing his chin between his index finger and thumb. He always does that when he’s nervous, and I hate that I can still read him. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well,” I tell him. I know I should be polite and ask after him, but I don’t really feel like being polite. I don’t want to make this easy for him, don’t want to talk to him like we’re just old friends who haven’t seen each other in a while.
“You look good,” he says.
I should thank him, but I don’t.
“Listen, Callie.” He rubs his chin again. “I want to say thank you for letting me come here to the wedding. It means a lot to me.”
Even though Gabby and Ben did ask me before they invited Ethan, I don’t like the way he makes it seem like I’m the one running the show.