Chapter 5 Mateo
MATEO
The construction next door was done. Finally!
A whole summer of pounding on walls, grinding saws, and endless delivery vans later, I had to admit the bagel shop looked good.
The logo on the new black awning was sophisticated and the contemporary lighting, refurbished tile flooring, and the steel-and-glass cases were classy as fuck. And the smell of fresh bagels was mighty pleasant first thing in the morning.
And as my mom reminded me, “Any new business in town brings new customers our way.”
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
The invite to the soft-opening soiree arrived on an ordinary Tuesday in September.
It was one of those fancy engraved numbers with thick paper I associated with weddings.
And get this…it was for Friday night—the busiest night of the week for us.
What were they thinking? People ate bagels in the morning.
No one wanted a bagel at six p.m., but I wasn’t gonna miss this.
I needed to know what we were up against.
I left Vanni and Jimmy in charge of the store and traded my apron and red-checked shirt for a black V-neck sweater and a nice pair of jeans. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but I figured I should step up my game.
And I could tell this was a bougie event. A cascade of balloons framed the front door, and jazz music drifted from the speakers as waiters circled the room, passing out flutes of champagne and bagel-ish canapes.
I nodded to an acquaintance as I plucked a glass of bubbly from a tray along with a cream-cheese-and-lox everything bagel bite dusted with caviar.
Holy crap, it was tasty. I grabbed another, then moved on to a feta-and-cucumber combo garnished with delicately shaved red onion that should have been gross but was equally amazing.
I mingled amongst the guests as I feasted on a variety of interesting concoctions, not one of them resembling a piece of pizza. Good. My ego had taken a beating over the past few years, and this minor concession felt like a win.
And since Rob the football hero had made an effort to be cool, I could do the same.
I spotted him at the far end of the shop, chatting with Coach Malveney and his wife and Amber.
I set my empty flute on a passing waiter’s tray and approached the group. “Coach, Mrs. Malveney, it’s nice to see you. Hey, Amber.”
Amber lifted her glass in greeting, quickly stepping aside as Coach’s wife threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. I was afraid she was about to ruffle my hair for old times’ sake, but she just beamed like a proud parent.
“Mateo! Oh, heavens! How are you? You’re as handsome as ever.”
“This guy has a big head, honey. Don’t give him any reasons to strut like a peacock.” Coach punched my biceps and pulled me in for a gruff, one-armed bro hug. “How ya doin’? Long time no see, kid.”
“You need to eat more pizza, Coach,” I joked.
“You think?” The older man patted his ample belly before gesturing between Rob and me. “What are the chances of two of my guys setting up shop next to each other? I feel like I should be yelling at you to remember curfew.”
“Time flies,” Amber singsonged, flashing a pretty grin my way. “Thanks for coming, Mateo. We’re both glad you made it. Right, Rob?”
“Of course,” Rob replied in a deep, smoky voice.
I slid my gaze toward the big guy standing behind her. As much as I hated to admit it, Rob cleaned up well in a navy sport coat, a blue oxford shirt, and jeans.
“Congratulations,” I said, managing a sincere smile.
Rob tilted his chin in acknowledgment. “Glad you could make it.”
Amber motioned between Rob and me. “I know we all went to college together, but it was ages ago. Sometimes I forget that you and Rob played football together too.”
That wasn’t exactly true. She’d mentioned it a couple of times in passing, but in present company, football was a safe topic.
“These two were the meat and potatoes of the team—offense and defense.” Coach slapped my back and chuckled lightly. “It’s a treat to be able to brag that two of my star players are business owners in town. You’re a great example to a younger generation.”
And with very little prodding, he launched into a trip down memory lane involving a fourth-quarter Hail Mary at a championship game. Not gonna lie, that was one of my best throws ever, but reliving college glory days with a guy who’d taken his career to the next level was a little humbling.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to walk away from Coach without being rude, and the man had always been good to me.
Amber and Mrs. Malveney drifted into another conversation, and just as Coach had settled into storyteller mode, a parent of one of his current players interrupted. Rob and I waved off his apologies, which left us alone to bungle through niceties. Damn.
I was about to step aside and tell him to enjoy his party, but at the last second, I blurted, “What’s your new kitchen like?”
In lieu of a reply, Rob motioned for me to follow him, deftly maneuvering through the press of bodies to the rear of the shop. The brick wall dividing the store from the kitchen provided a nice sound barrier. I could actually hear myself think as as I took in the newly renovated space.
Rob spread his arms wide. “This is where the magic happens.”
I studied the stainless-steel ovens, the large kettle for boiling bagels, the commercial-grade refrigerator, and the ample workspace with a twinge of envy. Wow. It was beautiful.
“Huh. Well, this is really—” I stopped short and pointed at the congested counter. “That’s a fucking pizza bagel.”
Yep, lo and behold, there on a large silver tray were dozens of pizza canapes—sausage, pepperoni, a sprig of basil, feta, goat cheese, pine nuts. They looked gourmet, and damn it, they looked delicious.
“Try one,” he urged.
“No, thanks.”
“C’mon, don’t be a dick.” Rob picked up a pesto, goat cheese, and sausage bagel bite and offered it to me on a napkin.
“I refuse on principle,” I growled. “I told you not to—”
He shoved the bagel bite into my mouth.
The fucking nerve. And you know what was worse? It was delicious.
Of course, that was beside the point.
I glowered as I wiped the corners of my mouth.
It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn his gaze followed my tongue with the kind of attention that gave me all the wrong ideas.
And what the actual fuck was I thinking?
Rob Vilmer was off-limits, all caps. Not only was he most likely straight as an arrow, he was a minor celebrity and… he was a jerk.
“Good, isn’t it?” Rob’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was predatory and dangerous, and damn, that did something for me. All the wrong things.
“It’s edible.”
He barked a laugh. “You’re a piece of work, Cavaretti.”
“Me? First you leave coupons for my customers when you think I’m not looking, and now you’re making fucking pizza bagels. I had it right all along. You’re shamelessly poaching my business!”
“I’m not poaching your business. For fuck’s sake, man. I never intended to make pizza bagels, but—”
“You did. So, congratulations, you’ve just started a pizza war.”
Christ, I sounded like a moron or a child who was pissed at the meanie who’d called dibs on his favorite swing at recess. I hated coming across as a dumb jock to someone who used to know me as being relatively cool under pressure. Now…well, I wasn’t at my best. And I hadn’t been all summer.
Rob shook his head in undisguised amusement. “A pizza war. That’s a new one. And how does that work? Are there rules in a pizza war, like…only five pepperonis on each slice or a quarter cup of mozzarella and it has to be from a specific region in Italy or—”
“Funny. Very funny. Hey, I came tonight ’cause I was curious. I’d hoped you’d done the right thing, but no, you actually made the pizza bagels.”
“So what? You’re not gonna bully your way into setting my menu. Nice try, but I don’t work for you.”
“It’s called common fucking courtesy,” I growled, stepping into his space. “It’s called not being a jackass.”
Rob’s lips twisted unpleasantly as he nudged the toe of his shoe to mine. “How am I the jackass here?”
“You’re openly competing with an established business in a small town. That’s fucking hostile.”
He knit his eyebrows fiercely. “I’m making fucking bagels. Bagels don’t compete with pizza.”
“Until they do,” I countered.
Geez, his eyes were the clearest shade of blue and his lips were full and— Oh, no. No hate-lusting allowed.
“You’re out of line or out of your fucking mind…or both,” Rob huffed.
“Right…to you, this might be a joke. To us, pizza is a legacy that my family has carried on for generations.”
He rolled those fucking pretty eyes. “I never said or insinuated that this was a joke. But I will say that I wouldn’t have asked Amber to come up with new pizza recipes if you hadn’t basically challenged me to do it. So now…you bet your ass I’m making these bagels.”
“Really? That’s your solution? That’s your…”
My voice trailed off. What was I talking about? He was too close now, too distracting. And he was looking at me funny…like he was hungry.
Neither of us said a word, but something was happening. I could feel it in the air. A quiet before a storm.
Next thing I knew we were diving for each other, our mouths colliding in a greedy fusion.
One of us gasped. Probably me. I was fucking shocked by the ferocity and—Rob was gay or…at least queer? I could ponder that information later.
Right now, I was under attack in the sexiest way possible.
I tilted my chin as Rob thrust his tongue inside. And suddenly, we were off to the races—my fingers in his hair, his fist clutching at my shirt as we made out.
I couldn’t think, and I could barely breathe. It was as if there were a system malfunction and I no longer had control of my body. This was all instinct—hot and hungry. I wanted to tackle him, own him. I wanted—
Rob broke the kiss and pushed away from me.
We stared at each other in obvious confusion.
He blinked as if in a daze. “I—you. I didn’t know you were…”
“I am.”
“Gay? Bi?”
“Gay,” I confirmed. “You too?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I assured him in a softer tone.
“No, that’s not it. I’m out. I mean…not all the way out, but it’s in the works.”
I cocked my head curiously. “In the works?”
“According to my agent, if I intend to come out publicly, I should tell the story myself and avoid giving someone ammunition to use against me. ‘Pro linebacker, gay…read all about it.’ ” Rob shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not sure who’ll care, but I’ll do it…when I’m ready.”
“Oh.” I shoved a hand through my hair. “Well, I’m out.
The people who matter know, anyway. I stopped worrying about the rest of the world a while ago.
I’m not a football star anymore. I’m just a boring guy who works in the family business.
The same business you can’t decide if you want to crap on or shamelessly copy. ”
“Oh, my God. Has anyone ever told you that you’re very fucking difficult?”
I widened my eyes comically and gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Once or twice. But you’re the one playing the big-shot card.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mr. NFL, Great H alum. And like a true kiss-ass, you even named your store after the college. Then you emphasize your coolness with a few jerseys on the wall and oh, so slyly put a pizza on your menu. C’mon, Vilmer.
The only thing I like about you is the part I just found out.
” I gave him a heated once-over, lingering on his crotch.
Yeah, I was being a dick, but I didn’t respond well to surprises and this was a big one.
Did we really just kiss?
“Same,” he grunted. “But maybe we should talk about—”
“No. No talking. Whatever that was…didn’t happen.”
“It was a kiss.”
“Didn’t happen,” I repeated. “In fact, the only thing that happened was that you started a war. It’s on, Vilmer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he called after me.
Fuck if I knew. I was spouting gibberish and digging a nice hole for myself. The only thing I could be proud of was that I’d shown some restraint and hadn’t grabbed a bagel bite to go.
Yeah, in a string of lows, I’d officially hit a new one.