Long Slow Burn Read Online Free Page A

wouldn’t.” He gave a final rinse to the pot he’d used to heat stomach-soothing oatmeal for breakfast, and set it upside down in the drying rack. “I told him not to worry, that I’d waited outside his office only fifteen minutes. Twenty, tops.”
    Kim shook her head in exasperation. “I swear, you arethe luckiest person on the planet. Totally self-indulgent and it never catches up to you.”
    â€œSelf-indulgent? Me?” He pretended comic outrage, though the barb hurt. Comments like that from Kim only bolstered his determination that while they were living together she would come around to seeing him differently. Yes, he’d always been disorganized. Ask his mom how often he’d left homework materials at home in the morning and at school in the afternoon. But he was plenty smart, and had been a good student all his life until the previous semester, when the panic and mental blocking started. “I was exhausted and fell asleep. That’s human nature, not self-indulgence.”
    â€œExhausted from being out until four in the morning. That’s self-indulgence.”
    â€œI was at a friend’s bachelor party.” He tossed down the sponge he’d used to wipe the sink, and leaned against the counter so he could watch her. “You can’t leave those early. It is written.”
    Kim scrunched up her face. “Where?”
    â€œIn The Man’s Guide to Being Manly. ”
    â€œAha.” She spooned flour into a metal measuring cup. “I knew that book existed somewhere. Did you write it?”
    He puffed out his chest, flexed his biceps. “You need to ask?”
    â€œOh, um, of course not.” She put away the flour, consulted her recipe, dumped a stick of butter into the mixer bowl with some sugar and turned on the battered yellow machine. She seemed tense, had been for the past few days. He hoped she hadn’t had another setback on the Carter bid. He didn’t understand her thirtieth-birthday deadline for giving up on Charlotte’s Web Design. Seemed an artificial stopping point to him. But then he hadn’t been struggling for five years, day in and out, to keep his dream alive the way she had.
    â€œCan I help?”
    â€œWine.”
    â€œYes. Wine. I’m on my way. I have your list.” He patted his pockets frantically. “Somewhere.”
    She picked up the paper from the counter, where it lay in plain view, and smacked it into his hand, leaving flour smudged on his palm.
    â€œOh, there.” He waved cheerfully, groaning inside, took the elevator down and jogged through the chilly March wind to the liquor store, a couple blocks east on Oakland. If he ever managed to do something macho and smooth around Kim she’d probably have a heart attack from the shock. Luck didn’t ever seem to be on his side where she was concerned.
    Wine bought, he strode briskly back toward home, carrying the four bottles. His cell rang; he fumbled in his pocket, shifting the wine to his hip. It was Kent, who’d probably punch him if he knew the thoughts Nathan had regularly about his sister.
    â€œHey, Kent.”
    â€œHow’d it go this morning? Did you make it out of bed?”
    â€œBarely. You?”
    â€œBarely. I was nearly late to a meeting.” Kent chuckled. “John will remember that party for the rest of his life. Those women were incredible.”
    â€œThey were.” If you were sexually attracted to Barbie.
    â€œAny of them would make me very happy for at least an hour. Maybe two. Poor John’s given up that chance forever.” Kent laughed harshly. “Same woman, day after day, for the rest of his life. He’s had it.”
    Nathan chuckled dutifully. He was used to Kent’s bluster, not unlike the talk Nathan’s four older brothers and father indulged in. Lately, though, he wondered how much of it was really Kent and how much was sour grapes after his New York girlfriend