Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,17
down my spine.
“Put some clothes on.”
I’m wearing the same shorts from the fair but with a bralette instead of a shirt. It’s a perfectly acceptable ensemble to wear in the privacy of my own home, and really, it shows no more skin than a swimsuit would. Still, I fight the urge to cover myself. If this brute of a man thinks he can bust into my house uninvited and then boss me around, he’s wrong.
“Don’t like it?” I wave my hand up and down my body, showcasing the expanse of skin on display. “Then. Don’t. Look.”
Mateo growls low in his throat, like a wolf about to clamp its teeth around the throat of its prey. “Not liking it isn’t the problem,” he says so quietly, I question if I heard him right.
“Why are you here?” I ask, hands on my hips.
“To talk.”
“So, you busted my door down?”
He scoffs as he steps fully into my house, closing the door behind him. “Didn’t bust nothing. I used a key.”
“Why do you have a key?”
He tosses it to me. “It’s the spare from under your mat. Get a better hiding spot.”
All I can do is stare as he moves past me into the living room, sinking down into the center of our small couch. With his legs spread wide and his arms draped across the back cushions, he looks like a regal king, one I’d be all too willing to worship—you know, if I didn’t kind of want to stab him.
“You’re insane.”
“Be that as it may, you need a dose of reality, and I’m here to deliver it. Now, have a seat.”
“Where would you have me sit?” My eyes flare wide as I look around the room, not even remotely considering my dad’s chair as a viable option. “You’re taking up the whole damn couch.”
Mateo glances from me to the chair before shrugging. “I don’t care where you sit, so long as you do it.”
I’m not sure why, but I want to push his buttons the same way he’s pushing mine. Tit for tat.
I step up to him boldly, even though I’m bluffing. “Your lap looks mighty comfy.” I expect him to get a clue and make room for me.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he leans forward, wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls, landing me squarely in his lap. I’m momentarily stunned. He’s so warm and firm beneath me, it’s a fight not to melt right into him and purr like a kitten.
A fight I’m apparently losing, judging by the smugly satisfied rumble coming from Mateo.
For a minute or two, neither of us speak. And while I’d never outwardly admit it, here in his arms with my head pressed to his chest, I feel a sense of peace I haven’t felt since my dad passed.
Until he speaks and ruins it.
“We need to talk.”
I sigh and pull away from his warmth. “About what? What could we possibly have to discuss?”
“What are you doing, Seraphine?”
“What do you mean? Currently I’m trying to figure out who you think you are!”
“I think I’m someone who cares. I’m someone who is worried about you. Simon told me you haven’t been back to work since your dad died. It’s been almost a month.”
I try to move off of him, but Mateo holds me in place.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”
He brings his lips to my ear. “You’re right, it’s probably not my business.” My stupid, hormone-fueled, traitorous body turns to jelly, imagining him whispering sweet nothings instead. “But I’m going to make it my business.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice so thin it borders on whiny.
“Because I know how it feels to lose someone. I know how hard it is to pull yourself out of that deep, dark hole. I’ve been there, and if it weren’t for Desi, I’d have let it swallow me up. I don’t want that for you. Your friends don’t either, but they’re all too worried about overstepping.”
I pull back as far as he’ll allow and glance at him over my shoulder. “And you’re not?”
His sinful lips tilt up in a grin. “Not even a little.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got no skin in the game. Everyone else is walking on eggshells around you. But me? I’m gonna be like a bull in a china shop. You want to cry and hide and let life pass you by. That shit won’t fly with me.”
He sounds so genuine—but something prickles, like there’s more to it. I can’t help but feel he has other motives, but at this point, I