The ache in her heart remained, as did the hole in her stomach.
Frustrated, Kris returned to her bedroom and picked up her phone. After a slight hesitation, she dialed Nate’s number.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey,” he said, his whiskey drawl easing the tension in her shoulders. “How was the workshop?”
She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling until the smooth white paint blurred before her eyes. “It was good. Skylar liked it.”
He picked up on her unease. “What’s wrong?”
Before Kris knew it, she’d divulged what had happened with her father. She wasn’t used to sharing her feelings and personal life with other people, but she needed to talk to someone or she’d explode. Plus, she trusted Nate and just having him on the other end of the line made her feel better.
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy softened his voice. “Do you need me to come over and knock some sense into his head?”
She choked out a small laugh. “That might not make the best first impression on your girlfriend’s dad.”
“Maybe not,” Nate acknowledged. “Let’s try another tack. How about an orgasm? Would that help?”
“Are you offering one to me or my dad?”
“I’m not that desperate to get him to like me.” She could practically hear his grin over the phone. “But ask me again after the dinner party.”
“Gross.” Kris laughed again, louder this time. “Okay, switching subjects before I hurl. What did you do today? Take my mind off this Gloria bullshit.”
“Nothing that exciting. I had a shift at the cafe, then came home to practice lines forSix Doors Downand a few upcoming auditions.”
“Run the lines by me. I’ve never heard you in action.”
“You sure? I don’t want to bore you.”
“Oh, yeah. Talk dirty to me, baby.”
Nate’s rich laughter suffused the line. He obliged, changing his voices as needed—a cold, menacing tone for hisSix Doors Downcharacter as a corrupt FBI agent; surfer dude slang for a slapstick beach comedy; a British accent for a romantic drama set in World War II-era London.
After Nate finished, he and Kris segued into conversations about everything and anything they could think of—Hulu versus Netflix, their number one most hated pizza toppings (pineapple for Nate, anchovies for Kris), whether aliens existed, what superpower they’d like to possess the most.
They talked on the phone for hours. The topics were silly and random, but they did the trick—by the time Kris hung up, her cheeks ached from smiling and she’d almost forgotten about her argument with her father. The call with Nate had been better than a bubble bath with champagne by far.
She showered, changed into silk pajamas, and climbed into bed, her eyes heavy with sleep after a long day.
Kris quickly drifted into slumber, but although her body buzzed with warmth from memories of her conversation with Nate, a small part of her brain whispered that her father hadn’t bothered to stop by her room once since she’d walked out on him.
* * *
MentHer HQ wasin chaos when Kris arrived the next evening. She didn’t volunteer on weeknights unless there was a mentee event, but she’d received a frantic text from Susan that morning asking if she could come in as soon as possible.
She didn’t mind. Nate was having guy time with Blue Hair and a few of his other friends, and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to a showdown with her father or Gloria at the mansion, part deux.
Kris raised her eyebrows when she saw the mess in the office. Other staff members usually clocked out at the end of the workday, but tonight, they were all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.
“What’s going on?” Kris asked Melinda, the program director, who wore a wide-eyed, frazzled expression and a blue T-shirt that did her coloring no favors.
“Summer Gala venue.” Melina tugged on a loose curl, her face etched with panic and frustration. “Pipes leaked overnight and the whole place is flooded. It won’t be fixed in time for the event and they’re booked for the rest of the summer, so they can’t move our date. They refunded everyone who’s affected and promised a discount for the next event, which doesn’t help usnow.”
Shit.
The gala was two weeks away, and the chances of securing a new venue in that timeframe with MentHer’s budget was slim to none.
Kris tracked down Susan while Melinda rushed off to do whatever she needed to do.