Chapter 12 Mateo
MATEO
It seemed less complicated when Rob kneeled at my feet later that evening, sucking me dry while I trembled through the aftershocks of a wicked orgasm. I stilled my hips and released my grip on his hair, panting like a fish out of water.
“Your turn,” Rob growled, shoving his jeans over his ass as he flopped onto his office chair.
I slipped to the floor between his legs and proceeded to blow his mind…through his cock. He had a funny habit of brushing the hair from my eyes as he was about to come. It was oddly sweet and an interesting contrast to his other hand holding me in place as fell he apart.
I swiped my hand across my mouth and gingerly rose, perching on the edge of the desk facing Rob. “Holy shit. That was…”
He hummed. “It was. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. I think I asked if you had a permit to take the umbrellas out of the bistro tables out front.”
Rob barked a laugh. “You’re such a dickhead.”
“Hey, I should at least get points for originality.”
He pulled his boxer briefs and jeans up. “Poor Mateo. All that effort…just to get your cock sucked. Was it worth it?”
I leaned forward, setting my hands on the armrests of his chair and fusing my mouth over his. The shared taste of our combined release sent a fresh wave of tingles through my veins. Fuck, I had it bad for this guy.
Whoa. I meant…for his body. Not him.
Look, I could admit that I might have been a bit rash in my judgment. Rob wasn’t the villain I’d made him out to be when he’d first landed in Haverton with big bagel ideas. I could even admit that I sort of liked him. And positively regarding a sex partner was a good thing, right?
Ugh. Never mind. I didn’t like him that much.
I furrowed my brow and skirted the desk. “I should get going.”
“All right. Hey…I almost forgot. Your mom invited me to dinner on Sunday.”
I froze with my hand on the doorknob. Shit. That was why I was here. I knew I’d forgotten something.
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
I groaned in defeat and slumped toward Rob’s desk, flopping onto the chair across from him. “Why? Why? Why?”
“Because she asked what I was doing this Sunday evening, and I answered honestly—nothing. She said she was making puttanesca with halibut and she went into great detail about how meatier fish holds well with the sauce, and even though I don’t know what that means, it sounds amazing.”
“For fuck’s sake, it’s pasta, Rob. Lots of pasta and so many Cavarettis you’ll go bonkers within ten minutes. Everyone talking over each other…for two hours straight. Sometimes longer. Trust me, you don’t want to do this. Make an excuse. Save yourself.”
Rob pursed his lips, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “I’m not lying to your mother. She caught me off guard, but I thought it was nice and—”
“Nice,” I huffed. “Well, maybe a little. My mom is cool…but she’s also nosy. And I think my family knows about us.”
That wiped the smile off his face in a hurry. “What? How?”
“I mentioned our marinara meeting and they…drew conclusions.”
“Still confused here. You didn’t tell them that we—”
“Hell, no! They just…inferred. My cousins first and then Ma and…well, in a twist, they’re smarter than I thought they were. Or I’m a whole lot dumber.”
“Hang on. Do they think we’re…together?” Rob motioned between us meaningfully.
“No. My guess is that they think…”
“Keep talking.”
“That I have a crush on you.” I hung my head in abject mortification as heat flooded my cheeks. In doing so, I lost a couple of key seconds that I should have spent assuring him he had nothing to worry about on that front.
“And do you?”
I caught the teasing lilt in Rob’s tone and immediately decided I didn’t like him at all.
“Fuck, no!” I exploded. “I like your dick, but don’t let that go to your head.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good.”
“But I’m still coming to dinner on Sunday,” he said smugly, his eyes alight with humor.
I deflated theatrically. “Fine. But I gotta warn you about a few things.”
“Go on. I’m listening.”
I raked my hand through my hair. “I’m gay, and they know it.
They don’t know about you, but that won’t stop them from playing matchmaker.
It’s like they think they can turn eligible bachelors to the gay side with some wishful hocus-pocus and a home-cooked meal.
If you seem too straight for me, they’ll introduce you to one of my unattached cousins, like Jess or Sabrina.
They’re both cool, but let them down easy.
Also, there’s no subject off-limits at a Cavaretti dinner.
Our religion and politics align, so that’s not a problem.
It’s getting the blow-by-blow of the side effects of Aunt Sylvie’s thyroid medication that should scare you off.
If that doesn’t do it, maybe a boring soliloquy on a new hybrid of tomatoes by Cousin Francesca’s husband, Cliff, will do the trick.
See, it’s a mine field or a box of Cracker Jack’s—you never know what you’re gonna get.
So the real question oughtta be…is all that really worth a bowl of puttanesca? ”
Rob’s grin could have lit Times Square. “How good is the puttanesca?”
I sighed heavily. “Pretty fuckin’ amazing.”
“Excellent. I’ll be there. You can help me choose a bottle of wine.”
“Hmph.”
“Hey, look at it from my point of view. I’m a new business owner and neighbor. Refusing a dinner invitation issued by the matriarch of the family would be rude. And if the shoe were on the other foot, and my mother invited you over…you’d do the same thing.”
I snorted. “You said your mom’s a terrible cook.”
“The worst. But you’d still go ’cause if nothing else, you’d be curious.”
True. Damn it.
“All right. You’ve been warned,” I singsonged. “I ’spose it doesn’t matter as long as we stick to the story that I was at your house teaching you how to make a very basic marinara. And when they ask what you get out of the deal, you’ll say—”
“Blowjob.”
“Ha. Ha.”
Rob moved around the desk and offered me his hand, which I ignored. Yep, I was an awkward asshole, and I was feeling testy. He had no idea the lengths I’d gone through to keep my family out of my private life. They’d never come close to having dinner with one of my lovers.
I wanted to snarl and growl that this was no laughing matter, but melodrama wasn’t really my style.
He wriggled his fingers insistently and this time, I took his hand, grunting as he yanked me to my feet.
“Quit worrying. I promise I won’t embarrass you, Mateo.
I’ve been playing straight and narrow my whole life.
I know how to be polite and occasionally even charming without leading anyone on.
The worst thing that could happen is that your family might get the impression that I don’t hate you.
And that we might actually be—dare I say it… friends.”
“Don’t get carried away.”
Rob pulled me to his chest and laughed. “C’mon…admit it. You like me.”
“I like your dick. That’s different,” I mumbled into his shirt.
“It’s a start.” He smacked my ass and released me.
My gaze snagged on his broad shoulders as I reached for the leather jacket on the hook beside the door.
Focus, man. Focus.
“We aren’t selling friendship here, Vilmer. They’re worried I was giving out family secrets for a freaking bake-off, so you gotta reciprocate. Show me something about bagels.”
“Okay…like what?”
“Up to you. It just has to be real. My cousins will quiz me, and I can’t fake it. Sal’s too smart for that.”
Rob frowned. “Ooh, pressure. Remember, I’m the money man—not much of a cook at all, but…I’ll think of something. Come over tonight?”
With anyone else, the sly wink and corny innuendo might have been a deal-breaker. Not for me. I was hooked on Rob.
“I probably should,” I replied in a deep tone.
He closed the distance between us and kissed me roughly. “See you later, sexy.”
I headed next door, slipped through the side entry, and went upstairs to my apartment above the pizzeria.
The place was small and cramped with bulky furniture that had belonged to my parents and grandparents.
On warm summer nights, the smell of garlic, basil, and tomatoes wafted through windows left open in deference to the heat.
I could hear the conversations of random passersby and squawking seagulls.
And on rare days off, I could hear my cousins chattering in the kitchen.
It wasn’t glamorous in the slightest, but we owned the building, so there was no rent. Ideal for a postcollege, temporary living situation. This had been home base since I’d come back to help take care of the business after Uncle Sal died. Dad had insisted that I take apartment, and…I’d never left.
Times had been tough. Dad had been heartbroken, Aunt Sylvie a wreck, my cousins walking around like zombies. A few years later, Dad had suffered his first heart attack.
Hospital bills had piled up, and we’d all done whatever was necessary to stay afloat.
Sal had been my roommate before he’d gotten married and had a couple of kids.
Then Jimmy had moved in. He’d lasted exactly one month.
According to him, I was too serious, and I’d forgotten how to have fun.
Maybe so. Or maybe my days of partying seven nights a week had passed.
Fair enough, but what was once a nice solution had become a habit.
I was surrounded by artifacts of my heritage—photo albums, knickknacks, harvest-gold lamps, and candy dishes from the old country that weighed ten pounds or more.
This wasn’t the first time I’d recognized my predicament.
My world had become eerily small, completely centered on family.
Until Rob came along and insinuated himself into the fabric of my everyday life.
Even in the privacy of my apartment, I felt exposed. I wanted to be angry, but the feeling wouldn’t stick. I tried, damn it. The problem was that I liked teasing him, touching him, sucking him. Fine…I liked Rob.
But that was between us. No one else.
And now…Sunday dinner with the family? It was too much.
So why was I grinning like an idiot?